That some demon gave me. Thrice I fell, and thrice
In torrents of blue ice-water slipp'd and was toss'd
Like a dead leaf, or a ghost
Harried by thin bufferings of wind
Downward to Tartarus at daybreak,
Downward to the regions of the lost....
But the rushing waters ceased, and the bitter wind fell:
How I cannot tell, unless that I had come
To the hollow heart of the storm where the wind is dumb;
And there my gelid blood thawed, glowed, and grew warm,