X.
So when the morn, like Virtue’s cheek red-blushing
For night’s black deeds, from couch of cloud arose,
Ere yet were heard hoarse caws and dark wings rushing
Athwart the sun, when trailing lines of crows
Hasten to haunts far off that no man knows,
Beside the sea stood King and charioteer
To take the waves’ great secret now from those
In promise bound, who stand apart, yet near,
Where wavelets lift and lay, as if some word to hear.