Thus over Enoch's early-silvering head
  The sunny and rainy seasons came and went
  Year after year. His hopes to see his own,
  And pace the sacred old familiar fields,
  Not yet had perish'd, when his lonely doom
  Came suddenly to an end. Another ship
  (She wanted water) blown by baffling winds,
  Like the Good Fortune, from her destined course,
  Stay'd by this isle, not knowing where she lay:
  For since the mate had seen at early dawn
  Across a break on the mist-wreathen isle
  The silent water slipping from the hills,
  They sent a crew that landing burst away
  In search of stream or fount, and fill'd the shores
  With clamor. Downward from his mountain gorge
  Stept the long-hair'd long-bearded solitary,
  Brown, looking hardly human, strangely clad,
  Muttering and mumbling, idiotlike it seem'd,
  With inarticulate rage, and making signs
  They knew not what: and yet he led the way
  To where the rivulets of sweet water ran;
  And ever as he mingled with the crew,
  And heard them talking, his long-bounden tongue
  Was loosen'd, till he made them understand;
  Whom, when their casks were fill'd they took aboard:
  And there the tale he utter'd brokenly,
  Scarce credited at first but more and more,
  Amazed and melted all who listen'd to it:
  And clothes they gave him and free passage home;
  But oft he work'd among the