He has loaded with bullet and powder:
His footfall is noiseless as air:
But the Voices grow louder and louder,
And bellow, and bluster, and blare.
They bristle before him and after,
They flutter above and below,
Shrill shriekings of lubberly laughter,
⁠Weird wailings of woe!
 
They echo without him, within him:
They thrill through his whiskers and beard:
Like a tectotum seeming to spin him,
With sneers never hitherto sneered.