Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/42

 Where he rode only by the fierier light Of his dread lady's hot sweet hungering eyes. For the moon wandered witless of her way, Spell-stricken by strong magic in such wise As wizards use to set the stars astray. And in his ears the music that makes mad Beat always; and What way the music bade, That alway rode he; nor was any sleep His, nor from height nor deep. But heaven was as red iron, slumberless, And had no heart to bless; And earth lay sere and darkling as distraught, And help in her was nought.

Then many a midnight, many a morn and even, His mother, passing forth of her fair heaven, With goodlier gifts than all save gods can give