Slabs of rock, and a tiny beach, and perfection of water,
Picture-like beauty, seclusion sublime, and the goddess of bathing.
There they bathed, of course, and Arthur, the Glory of headers,
Leapt from the ledges with Hope, he twenty feet, he thirty;
There, overbold, great Hobbes from a ten-foot height descended,
Prone, as a quadruped, prone with hands and feet protending;
There in the sparkling champagne, ecstatic, they shrieked and shouted.
‘Hobbes’s gutter’ the Piper entitles the spot, profanely,
Hope ‘the Glory’ would have, after Arthur, the Glory of headers:
But, for before they departed, in shy and fugitive reflex,