Floating the livelong yesternight,
Shifting like flashes darted forth
By the red streamers of the north;[235]
I mark’d at morn how close they ride,
Thick moor’d by the lone islet’s side,
Like wild ducks couching in the fen,
When stoops the hawk upon the glen.
Since this rude race dare not abide
The peril on the mainland side,
Shall not thy noble father’s care