A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN.
187
viii.
That run before the fluttering tongues of fire;
White surf wind-scattered over sails and masts,
And ever climbing higher;
ix.
Scaffolds, still sheets of water, divers woes,
Ranges of glimmering vaults with iron grates,
And hush'd seraglios.
x.
Bluster the winds and tides the self-same way,
Crisp foam-flakes scud along the level sand,
Torn from the fringe of spray.
xi.
Resolved on noble things, and strove to speak,
As when a great thought strikes along the brain,
And flushes all the check.