III.
Onward they whirled. The billows on the beach
Drew backward in amaze, then, bolder grown,
Sprang forward to the chase, but far from reach
The phantom bounded on o’er sand and stone;
Till the low clouds that late-born winds had blown
About the hills, upon the chariot’s flight
Drew down their brows; or was it they had flown
Thro’ dalliant day into a former night
That now, with jealous hand, hid shore and sea from sight?