University of Virginia Library

XV

He turned around and fled amain
With hurry and dash to the beach again;
He twisted over from side to side,
He laid his cheek to the cleaving tide.
The strokes of his plunging arms are fleet,
And with all his strength he flings his feet,
But the water-sprites are around him still,
To cross his path and to work him ill.
They bade the rock before him rise,
They flung the sea-fire in his eyes,

156

They stunned his ears with the scallop stroke,
With the porpoise heave and the drum-fish croak.
Oh! but a weary wight was he
When he reached the foot of the dog-wood tree;
Gashed and wounded, stiff and sore,
He laid him down on the sandy shore;
He blessed the force of the charmed line,
And he banned the water-goblin's spite,
For he saw around in the sweet moonshine,
Their little wee faces above the brine,
Giggling and laughing with all their might
At the piteous hap of the fairy wight.