Clench thine eyes now,--'tis the last instant, girl:
Draw in thy senses, set thy knees, and take
One breath for all: thy life is keen awake,--
Thou may'st not swoon. Was that the scattered whirl
Of its foam drenched thee?--or the waves that curl
And split, bleak spray wherein thy temples ache?--
Or was it his the champion's blood to flake
Thy flesh?--Or thine own blood's anointing, girl?....
....Now, silence; for the sea's is such a sound
As irks not silence; and except the sea,
All is now still. Now the dead thing doth cease
To writhe, and drifts. He turns to her: and she
Cast from the jaws of Death, remains there, bound,
Again a woman in her nakedness.