Day by day thy shadow shines in heaven beholden,
Even the sun, the shining shadow of thy face:
King, the ways of heaven before thy feet grow golden;
God, the soul of earth is kindled with thy grace.
(Swinburne: The Last Oracle.)
Six-stress anapestic.
For I trust if an enemy's fleet came yonder round by the hill,
And the rushing battle-bolt sang from the three-decker out of the foam,
That the smooth-faced snubnosed rogue would leap from his counter and till,
And strike, if he could, were it but with his cheating yard-wand, home.
(Tennyson: Maud, I. i. 1855.)
(See note on p. [41].)
All under the deeps of the darkness are glimmering: all over impends
An immeasurable infinite flower of the dark that dilates and descends,
That exalts and expands in its breathless and blind efflorescence of heart
As it broadens and bows to the wave-ward, and breathes not, and hearkens apart.
(Swinburne: The Garden of Cymodoce, in Songs of the Springtides.)
Six-stress dactylic.
(For this, see chiefly Part Two.)