The sun hung molten in mid space,
Like some great star fix'd in its place.
From out the gleaming spaces rose
A sheen of gossamer and danced,
As Morgan slow and still advanced
Before his far-receding foes.
Right on and on the still black line
Drove straight through gleaming sand and shine,
By spar and beam and mast and stray,
And waif of sea and cast-away.