It passed the gloom, and glided into light,
When, like a raven drifting down the skies,
The black, unaltered galley, ebon-sailed, met my astonished eyes!
A piercing shriek appalled my ears: I turned
And saw the aged king spring toward the steep —
And leap—and fall: no human sound arose from the tumultuous deep.
Anon came other dreams—Arcadian vales,
With Pan, oblivious Satyrs, and a throng
Of Fauns and Nymphs who made the burthened air reel with its weight of song.
Bacchus rode next: how like a god he looked,