[Pg 192]

Mast on mast as a tower goes past, and sail by sail as a cloud's wing spread;

Fleet by fleet, as the throngs whose feet keep time with death in his dance of dread;

Galleons dark as the helmsman's bark of old that ferried to hell the dead.

Squadrons proud as their lords, and loud with tramp of soldiers and chant of priests;

Slaves there told by the thousandfold, made fast in bondage as herded beasts;

Lords and slaves that the sweet free waves shall feed on, satiate with funeral feasts.

Nay, not so shall it be, they know; their priests have said it; can priesthood lie?

God shall keep them, their God shall sleep not: peril and evil shall pass them by:

Nay, for these are his children; seas and winds shall bid not his children die.

II

So they boast them, the monstrous host whose menace mocks at the dawn: and here

They that wait at the wild sea's gate, and watch the darkness of doom draw near,

How shall they in their evil day sustain the strength of their hearts for fear?

Full July in the fervent sky sets forth her twentieth of changing morns:

Winds fall mild that of late waxed wild: no presage whispers or wails or warns:

Far to west on the bland sea's breast a sailing crescent uprears her horns.

[Pg 193]

Seven wide miles the serene sea smiles between them stretching from rim to rim:

Soft they shine, but a darker sign should bid not hope or belief wax dim:

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