Note 119 — DANTE.[1] (continued 2)

E'en as the bird that resting in the nest Of her sweet brood, the shelt'ring boughs among While all things are enwrapt in night's dark vest— Now eager to behold the looks she loves, And to find food for her impatient young (Whence labour grateful to a mother proves), Forestalls the time, high perch'd upon the spray, And with impassion'd zeal the sun expecting, Anxiously waiteth the first break of day.—Wright.