XXXIV.

Whither speed they? Where are toss'd Like sea foam the dwarfed pines At the jagged sharp inclines; To the country of the frost Up the mountains to be lost, Lost. No better now may be, Lost where mighty hollows thrust 'Twixt the fierce teeth of the world, Fill themselves with crimson dust When the tumbling sun down hurl'd Stares among them drearily, As a' wondering at the lone Gulfs that weird gaunt company Fenceth in. Lost there unknown, Lineage, nation, name, and throne.