XXIX.

Up to the cope careering swift In breathless motion fast, Fleet as the swallow cuts the drift, Or the sea-roc rides the blast, The sapphire sheet of eve is shot, The sphered moon is past, The earth but seems a tiny blot On a sheet of azure cast. O! it was sweet in the clear moonlight, To tread the starry plain of even, To meet the thousand eyes of night, And feel the cooling breath of heaven; But the Elfin made no stop or stay Till he came to the bank of the milky-way, Then he checked his courser’s foot, And watched for the glimpse of the planet-shoot.