A tremor, warning blindly ye who, blind,
See not the sleepless doom that evermore
Has watched your tragic shore
Since lost sea-rovers shaded first their eyes
To spy the riches of your waving store,
And grated up your sands with doubtful keel.
The startled jungle growled above its young;
The Arctic foxes snuffed the scentless wind;
But ye who knew yourselves a fated race,
That gods have loved and gods to hate exposed,