With the motions of the tide.
Argosies condemned to wander
Havenless from clime to clime,
With ensanguined ingots laden,—
All have faded from the brine!
And the Triton’s shell no longer
Over yesty waves is blown;
And Poseidon’s burnished axle
Drifts a wreck upon the foam.
These are gone—but still thy surges