Which turneth all it toucheth into gold.
Mrs. Dana.
58. Gentleman.— With a swimmer's stroke
To fling the billows back from your drench'd hair,
And laughing from your lip the audacious brine;
——rising o'er
The waves as they arise, and prouder still
The loftier they uplift thee; then, exulting,
With a far-dashing stroke, and drawing deep
The long suspended breath, again to spurn