So beautiful it was that first I thought
This castle was enchanted, as I have read
In eastern tales; or else that ’twas the song
Of people of this land, who make the sea
Their secret god, and at midnight arise
To kneel upon the shore, and his divinity
Trouble with shrilling prayer: or then it seemed
A liquid-voicèd choir of spirits that swam
Upon the ocean surface, harp in hand,
Swelling their hymns with his deep undersong.