And the balls like pulses beat;

For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky,
Lay like a load on my weary eye,

250

And the dead were at my feet.

And the rain poured down from one black cloud,

320

'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,

Which to their corses came again,

But a troop of spirits blest:

For when it dawned-they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;

350