Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: O hear!
III.
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lull’d by the coil[32] of his crystalline streams,
Beside a pumice[33] isle in Baiae’s bay,