Here on a shore unbeheld of his eyes in a dream he beheld her
⁠Outcast, fair as a fairy, the child of a far-off king:
And over the babe-flower gently the head of a pastoral elder
⁠Bowed, compassionate, hoar as the hawthorn-blossom in spring,
And kind as harvest in autumn: a shelter of shade on the lonely
⁠Shelterless unknown shore scourged of implacable waves:
Here, where the wind walks royal, alone in his kingdom, and only
⁠Sounds to the sedges a wail as of triumph that conquers and craves.
All these waters and wastes are his empire of old, and awaken