Then shook his fists, and then his form
Did writhe as if it writhed with pain.
And yet again his face was raised,
And yet again he gazed and gazed,
Above his fading, failing foe,
With gather'd brow and visage fierce,
As if his soul would part or pierce
The awful depths that lay below.
He had as well look'd on that sea
That keeps Samoa's coral isles