LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC. 205
The wild night through in the devouring storm,
Glistens with dew made sharp and bright with cold, —
And no north wind may drive us to the warm
Long-looked-for lands where day, with plumes of gold,
Flaps like a lazy eagle in the air,
Where night, a bird of prey divinely bold,
Wings through the sky, intangible but fair,
And pale with subtle passion ; and no wind
Turns our prow southward, till the canvas bear
No more up into it, but still behind
Follow like flame, and lead our love along
Into the valleys of the ocean, blind,
But seeing all the world awake with song
Of many lyres and lutes and reeds of straw,
And all the rivers musical that throng
In bright assemblage of unchanging law,
Like many flute-players; and seeing this,
(That all the mountains looked upon and saw)
The sweetness of the savour of a kiss,
And all its perfume wafted to the sky.
Nay, but no wind will drive our fortalice
(So strong against the sun) to where they ply
Those pallid wings, or turn our vessel’s beak
With utmost fury to the North, to dye