And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropped,
They slept on the abyss without a surge;—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave;
The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air;
And the clouds perished: Darkness had no need
Of aid from them, She—was the universe.
—Darkness. Byron.
A fool, a fool!—I met a fool i’ th’ forest,
A motley fool;—a miserable world!—