Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/219

167 The western wave was all a flame,

The day was well nigh done!

Almost upon the western wave

Rested the broad bright Sun;

When that strange shape drove suddenly

Betwixt us and the Sun.

And strait the Sun was fleck'd with bars

(Heaven's mother send us grace)

As if thro' a dungeon grate he peer'd

With broad and burning face.

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)

How fast she neres and neres!

Are those her Sails that glance in the Sun

Like restless gossameres?