Apart she dwelt, in solitary light.
High on her cliffs, alone and firm she stood,
Fixing the torch upon her beacon-tower—
That torch whose flame, far streaming o’er the flood,
Hath guided Europe through her darkest hour.
Away, vain dreams of glory!—in the dust
Be humbled, Ocean-queen! and own thy sentence just!
XII.
Hark! ’twas the death-bell’s note! which, full and deep,
Unmix’d with aught of less majestic tone,