His heart with fear; and in a flash he knew
That no sea-phantom couched before him lay,
But some frail fellow-creature, tempest-tost,
Hung yet in peril on the edge of death,
Her weak life slipping from the saving grasp
While he delayed. He sprang through plashy weed,
O'er slippery ridges, to the rock whereon
She lay with upturned face and close-shut eyes--
One hand across her breast, the other dipped
Within a shallow pool of emerald water,