Wait till they land, and you shall then behold
100
The fiery sparks those tangled frons' infold,
Myriads of living points[60]; th' unaided eye
Can but the fire and not the form descry.
And now your view upon the ocean turn,
And there the splendour of the waves discern;
Cast but a stone, or strike them with an oar,
And you shall flames within the deep explore;
Or scoop the stream phosphoric as you stand,