To all, to each, a fair good night,
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light,
The Lady of the Lake.
Canto i. St. 18.
And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
A nymph, a naiad, or a grace,
Of finer form or lovelier face.
A foot more light, a step more true,
Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew.
Canto i. St. 21.
On his bold visage middle age
Had slightly pressed its signet sage.