And perish struggling in the adventurous seas!
ARLO: My mouth is filled with saltness, and I thirst
For forest-pools that bubble in the shade,
When loud the hot chase pants through every glade,
And fleeing fawns from every thicket burst;
Or clear wine vintaged when the world was young,
Gurgling from deep-mouthed jars of coloured stone.
ASHALORN: The noonday burns my body to the bone,
And sets a coal of fire upon my tongue,
Between my lips, and stifles all my breath.