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 The days grew longer and longer,

Till they became as one, And southward through the haze I saw the sullen blaze

Of the red midnight sun.

And then uprose before me,

Upon the water's edge, The huge and haggard shape Of that unknown North Cape,

Whose form is like a wedge.

The sea was rough and stormy,

The tempest howled and wailed, And the sea-fog, like a ghost, Haunted that dreary coast,

But onward still I sailed.

Four days I steered to eastward,

Four days without a night : Round in a fiery ring Went the great sun, O King,

With red and lurid light.'

Here Alfred, King of the Saxons,

Ceased writing for a while; And raised his eyes from his book, With a strange and puzzled look,

And an incredulous smile.

But Othere, the old sea-captain,

He neither paused nor stirred, Till the King listened, and then Once more took up his pen,

And wrote down every word.

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