Book 3 — The Sea's Voice.

Around the rocky headlands, far and near, The wakened ocean murmured with dull tongue Till all the coast's mysterious caverns rung With the waves' voice, barbaric, hoarse, and drear. Within this distant valley, with rapt ear, I listened, thrilled, as though a spirit sung, Or some gray god, as when the world was young, Moaned to his fellow, mad with rage or fear. Thus in the dark, ere the first dawn, methought The sea's deep roar and sullen surge and shock Broke the long silence of eternity, And echoed from the summits where God wrought, Building the world, and ploughing the steep rock With ploughs of ice-hills harnessed to the sea.

The sea is never quiet: east and west The nations hear it, like the voice of fate; Within vast shores its strife makes desolate, Still murmuring mid storms that to its breast Return, as eagles screaming to their nest. Is it the voice of worlds and isles that wait While old earth crumbles to eternal rest, Or some hoar monster calling to his mate? O ye, that hear it moan about the shore, Be still and listen! that loud voice hath sung Where mountains rise, where desert sands are blown; And when man's voice is dumb, forevermore 'Twill murmur on its craggy shores among, Singing of gods and nations overthrown.