University of Virginia Library

FRIENDLESS.

They—had they left me? Did they trust that so
I should be comfortless? Their hating eyes
Meant it, I know; and all their virtuous lips,
Tight with a snarling sanctity of scorn,
Meant it, I know, that day. And I replied—
Looked on as some pollution—no one word;
Made no appeal to those just arbiters,
Not any of whom had any softening glance,
Even in the last. Only I rose, and mute,
Condemned of all my friends, passed right away
Out of their doors, unpitied, all alone,
Into the homeless storm. And lo, the storm
Bellowed, and howled, and raved, and welcomed me,
And the blown desolate drizzlings fell on me
Like friends; and, sweeter than all kisses, shed
On brow and cheek chill mist of briny rain,
Full of the sea's breath; and my whole heart swelled,
Feeling the great blasts tangled in my hair,
And streaming on my brow; and through the roar,
With a blind craving I climbed, and made my way
Out to a neighbouring beetling, iron-bound coast,
Facing towards the bleak Septentrion.
And as I climbed, the thunder of the hid sea
Broke on my ears, and high in air I saw
Grey vapour of flying foam going up like smoke
Over those heights, not, save on days like these,
Ever acquainted with the least blown spray.
Friends—had they left me? Oh, I went alone
Along the brink of those sheer precipices,
And felt the storms my brethren, and had ease.
For all the sea was dun, and muffled up
With yellow fog, and white with tufted foam;
And far below, against the pitiless base,
Shattering amongst black rocks, great bellowing waves
Dashed their despairing heads, and groaning died.