The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme The witch of Shiloh, the last of the Wampanoags, the gentle earl, the enchanted voyage |
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 | The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme |  |
VIII
As awful lords of Gaza jeered
And winked the eye and wagged the beard,
When Sampson stood within their fane,
His tresses shorn, his valor vain,
So Arnold scoffed in wicked sport
To hear the warlock crew's report,
Because he thought New England's knight
Had surely fought his final fight.
And winked the eye and wagged the beard,
When Sampson stood within their fane,
His tresses shorn, his valor vain,
So Arnold scoffed in wicked sport
To hear the warlock crew's report,
Because he thought New England's knight
Had surely fought his final fight.
But Arnold was a soul of power
Who might not waste a golden hour
In counting chickens yet unhatched,
Or scalping foemen not despatched.
At once he launched his wizard swarm
To seek the dervish fiends of storm,
And bid them maul that daring yawl
With crashing wave and hissing squall.
Who might not waste a golden hour
In counting chickens yet unhatched,
Or scalping foemen not despatched.
165
To seek the dervish fiends of storm,
And bid them maul that daring yawl
With crashing wave and hissing squall.
Eftsoon the ocean imps collected
And wrought as Arnold's trolls directed,
On windy circles fiercely wheeling,
Forever tow'rd the centre stealing,
Arousing, lifting, driving ocean
In clashing bursts of mad commotion,
A screaming whirl of monstrous revels,
The cyclone-dance, the dance of devils.
And wrought as Arnold's trolls directed,
On windy circles fiercely wheeling,
Forever tow'rd the centre stealing,
Arousing, lifting, driving ocean
In clashing bursts of mad commotion,
A screaming whirl of monstrous revels,
The cyclone-dance, the dance of devils.
| The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme | |