XXV.

The year waxed fervid, and the sun Fell central down. The forest lay A-quiver in the heat. The sea Below the steep bank seemed to run A molten sea of gold. away. Against the gray and rock-built isles That broke the molten watery miles Where lonesome sea-cows called all day, The sudden sun smote angrily.

Therefore the need of deeper deeps, Of denser shade for man and maid, Of higher heights, of cooler steeps, Where all day long the sea-wind stayed.

They sought the rock-reared steep. The breeze Swept twenty thousand miles of seas; Had twenty thousand things to say Of love, of lovers of Cathay, To lovers 'mid these high-held trees.