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vv. 555–573 Rejoicing; but methinks shall cast away

All, with much haste and trembling, on the day

When sails are stript by the edge of wind and sea

And yard-arm breaketh.

He yearns, he strives, amid the whirling sea,

But none shall hear;

And loud his Daemon laughs, saying "This is he

Who vaunted him these things should never be!"

Who now is weeping, weak in the endless foam,

And sees the foreland where beyond is home,

But shall not pass it: on the rocks of Right

Wrecked is his life's long glory; and the night

Falls, and there lives from all his agony

No word nor tear.

Herald, thine office! See that yonder crowds

Hold back, and let this piercer of the clouds,

Filled with man's breath, the Tuscan trumpet, blow

His fiery summons to the host below.

Then all be silence, while the people fill

This Council Hall. Thus shall my sovran will

And ordinance to this people, great and small,

Be known for ever, and upheld by all

Within our gates; and thus my wardens do

Justice this day, discerning false from true.