Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/63

 If haply some light be left them of chance to renew and redeem the fray; But the will of the black south-wester is lord of the councils of war to-day. One only spirit it quells not, a splendour undarkened of chance or time; Be the praise of his foes with Oquendo for ever, a name as a star sublime. But here what aid in a hero's heart, what help in his hand may be? For ever the dark wind whitens and blackens the hollows and heights of the sea, And galley by galley, divided and desolate, founders; and none takes heed, Nor foe nor friend, if they perish; forlorn, cast off in their uttermost need, They sink in the whelm of the waters, as pebbles by children from shoreward hurled, In the North Sea's waters that end not, nor know they a bourn but the bourn of the world.