Ii

No cloud is on the heavens, and on the sea No sail: the immortal, solemn ocean lies Unbroken sapphire to the walling skies-- Immutable, supreme in majesty. The billows, where the charging foam leaps free, Burden the winds with thunder. Soul, arise! For ghostly trumpet-blasts and battle-cries Across the tumult wake the Past for thee.

They call me to a dim, disastrous land, Where fallen marbles tell of mighty years, Heroic architraves, but where the gust Ripples forsaken waters. Lo! I stand With armies round about, and in mine ears The roar of harps reborn from legend’s dust.