Iii

Where the shoaling waters froth, Churned thick like devils’ broth,-- Where the rocky shark-jaw waits, Never a bark that grates.

And the tearless captives’ skill Contents them. Onward still! And the low-voiced captives tell The tidings that cheer them well:

How a clear stream leads them down Well-nigh to Medoctec town, Ere to the great Falls’ thunder The long wall yawns asunder.