Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/202

 "Still strove to speak: my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die.

"The tall masts quiver'd as they lay afloat, The temples and the people and the shore; One drew a sharp knife thro' my tender throat Slowly,—and nothing more."

Whereto the other with a downward brow: "I would the white cold heavy-plunging foam, Whirl'd by the wind, had roll'd me deep below, Then when I left my home."

Her slow full words sank thro' the silence drear, As thunder-drops fall on a sleeping sea: Sudden I heard a voice that cried, "Come here, That I may look on thee."