Definition of "murmurous"

Like as a fire, the which in hollow caveHath long bene underkept, and down supprest,With murmurous disdaine doth inly rave,And grudge, in so streight prison to be prest,London: Constable & Co., 1919, p. 202,

1590, Edmund Spenser, “Book II, Canto XI”, in The Faerie Queene. […], London: […] [John Wolfe] for William Ponsonbie

Throughout all the isleThere was no covert, no retired caveUnhaunted by the murmurous noise of waves,Though scarcely heard in many a green recess.

1818–1819, John Keats, “Hyperion, a Fragment”, in Lamia, Isabella, the Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems, London: […] [Thomas Davison] for Taylor and Hessey, […], published 1820, page 193

He felt some dark presence moving irresistably upon him from the darkness, a presence subtle and murmurous as a flood filling him wholly with itself.New York: B.W. Huebsch, 1922, p. 112,

1916 December 29, James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, New York, N.Y.: B[enjamin] W. Huebsch

Waiting, with a glass in my hand—three girls in crimson satinpass close before me onthe murmurous background ofthe crowded opera—

1917, William Carlos Williams, “Good Night”, in Al Que Quiere‎, Boston: The Four Seas Company, page 43

Marvelling they stood, and watched the long grass swirledBy the May breeze, murmurous with wasp and midge,

1920, Wilfred Owen, “Spring Offensive”, in Poems‎, London: Chatto & Windus, page 20

And if she speaks in her frail way,it is wholly to bewitchmy smallest thought with a most swiftradiance wherein slowly driftmurmurous things divinely bright;

1921, E. E. Cummings, “Puella Mea”, in George J. Firmage, editor, Complete Poems, 1904-1962, New York: Liveright, published 1991, page 21

The seeming remoteness of its source was because of its murmurous indistinctness since it came from close-by, even from the men massed on the ship's open deck.

1924, Herman Melville, chapter 23, in Billy Budd‎, London: Constable & Co.

It will be the same silence, the same as ever, murmurous with muted lamentation, panting and exhaling of impossible sorrow, like distant laughter, and brief spells of hush, as of one buried before his time.

1959, Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable, in The Beckett Trilogy: Molloy; Malone Dies; The Unnamable, London: Calder, 1994, p. 397