XVI. Political changes.
I have seen an end of all perfection, but thy commandment is exceeding broad.
Strange—the o'erwhelming tide that beareth on
The soul of Nations—mighty, though unseen,
And wielding mighty destinies; not e'en
Huge Ocean, on his bed with thunders strewn,
Rocking from pole to pole to the pale Moon,
More constant in mutation; 'mid the scene
We stretch our sounding canvass, nor ought ween
Our whereabouts, save where the past hath gone!
It was the Everlasting that pass'd by,
We saw not, but in cloud o'er cloud arrayed,
Ocean o'er Ocean roll'd ineffably,
Onward, like tide-born billows, He doth heave
Men's spirits, each upon his own bark staid.
We to behold His Glory's skirts had leave.
