 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Dismounted in dim twilight, and about
To enter in that roofless lodge; the ground
Reeled underfoot, and seemed above our heads
To nod the stars: again with rumour deep
The ground seemed shaken, and stagger under us.
To enter in that roofless lodge; the ground
Reeled underfoot, and seemed above our heads
To nod the stars: again with rumour deep
The ground seemed shaken, and stagger under us.
Cried that Siciliot, having found his wit;
And laid strong sudden hand on his mule-beast:
Mount! Ætna will erupt; to tarry is death!
Mount thou! and grant us Heaven, we perish not.
And laid strong sudden hand on his mule-beast:
Mount! Ætna will erupt; to tarry is death!
Mount thou! and grant us Heaven, we perish not.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |