![]() ![]() No twilight within the courts of the Sun. 'The game is done ! I've won ! I've won!' ’And now the Storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o’ertaking wings, And chased us south along. Through utter drought all dumb we stood !Īnd straight the Sun was flecked with bars,Īnd its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun.Īlas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)Īre those her sails that glance in the Sun, The ship drawn by a storm toward the South Pole. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,ĭown dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, Why look'st thou so?' - With my cross-bowĪnd the good south wind still blew behind, ![]() Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,įrom the fiends, that plague thee thus!. It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, 'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, ![]() 'Hold off ! unhand me, grey-beard loon !' ![]()
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