at Sea off the Isle of Man.

Bold words affirmed, in days when faith was strong,
And doubts and scruples seldom teazed the brain,
That no adventurer’s bark had power to gain
These shores if he approached them bent on wrong;
For, suddenly up-conjured from the Main,
Mists rose to hide the Land—that search, though long
And eager, might be still pursued in vain.
O Fancy, what an age was that for song!
That age, when not by laws inanimate,
As men believed, the waters were impelled,
The air controlled, the stars their courses held,
But element and orb on acts did wait
Of Powers endued with visible form, instinct
With will, and to their work by passion linked.