Legends of the Lintel and the Ley (1863)

79And in these lone meadows he would still wander on until his large blue eyes were lighted up by the young May moon that rose over Box Hill, and flickering among the shadows, glistened on the ripples of the Mole. He had thrown himself on the grass, and opening a page of his Lemprière, he murmured in soft yet passionate accents: “Endymion, Endymion!”