And then he roused himself, he spoke,
He reach'd an arm like arm of oak,
He struck a-west his great broad hand,
And seem'd to hurl his hot command.
He clutch'd his rein, struck sharp his heel,
Look'd at his men, and smiled half sad,
Half desperate, then hitch'd his steel,
And all his stormy presence had,
As if he kept once more his keel