The Sea-King A metrical romance, in six cantos. With notes, historical and illustrative. By J. Stanyan Bigg |
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| I. |
 | II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| IV. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. | XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| VI. |
 | The Sea-King |  |
XVII.
This hall stands in Nastrondum;—Through its windows flow
Torrents of bitter poison.
Tossing to and fro,
The accursed ever go,
Drinking in fresh woe
To that accumulated store,
Which, like a serpent, gnaws their vitals.
Terror without, and pain within,
Grief and torture evermore,—
Thus ends a life of sin!
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Some respite from their pain?
Hope has not left them quite,—
Day ever follows night
So joy shall follow woe?
But hark! th' eternal fiat
Responds in thunder—“No!
Joy shall not follow woe;
And they shall respite know
Never! never! never!
But woe shall follow woe
Forever! and forever!”
This is indeed the seat, the very fount of woe.
| The Sea-King | |