cloth in patterns of the most jetty black. But these figures

Not savage, for he saw full many a God

Wroth as himself. He look'd upon them all,

And in each face he saw a gleam of light,

But splendider in Saturn's, whose hoar locks

Shone like the bubbling foam about a keel

When the prow sweeps into a midnight cove.

In pale and silver silence they remain'd,

Till suddenly a splendour, like the morn,