His black eye flashed an angry fire,
He stood upon the mountain brow,
With lifted arm like oaken bough;
The hot pursuer halting stood
Irresolute, in nettled ire;
Then look'd against the cooling wood,
Then strode he sullen to and fro,
Then turned and long he gazed below.
The sands flash'd back like fields of snow,
Like far blown seas that flood and flow.