Or blaze of Indian sky.
Go! ask him of the whirlpool’s roar,
Whose echoing thunder peals
Loud, as if rush’d along the shore
An army’s chariot-wheels;
Of icebergs, floating o’er the main,
Or fix’d upon the coast,
Like glittering citadel or fane,
Mid the bright realms of frost;
Of coral rocks from waves below