XXXIV.

Some say the crazed hag lit the wood In circle where the lovers stood; Some say the gray priest feared the crew Might find at last the hoard of gold Long hidden from the black ship's hold,— I doubt me if men ever knew. But such mad, howling, flame-lit shore No mortal ever saw before.

Huge beasts above that shining sea, Wild, hideous beasts with shaggy hair, With red mouths lifting in the air, They piteous howled, and plaintively,— The wildest sounds, the weirdest sight That ever shook the walls of night.

How lorn they howled, with lifted head, To dim and distant isles that lay Wedged tight along a line of red, Caught in the closing gates of day 'Twixt sky and sea and far away,— It was the saddest sound to hear That ever struck on human ear.

They doleful called; and answered they The plaintive sea-cows far away,— The great sea-cows that called from isles, Away across wide watery miles, With dripping mouths and lolling tongue, As if they called for captured young,—

The huge sea-cows that called the whiles Their great wide mouths were mouthing moss; And still they doleful called across From isles beyond the watery miles. No sound can half so doleful be As sea-cows calling from the sea.