Nothing but that: move still, still so:
And owne no other function....
My prettiest Perdita."
The Winter's Tale.
"Such pretie things would soon be gon
If we should not so them remembre."
[212].
There might be an instant's check or faltering at the eighth line, but make it "when the Winds Blow and the Seas Flow"—the great flood of air and water banking up as it were into the words as does the Atlantic in a gale at the Spring Equinox—and all's well.