Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/123

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SEA DREAMS.
107
Who first wrote satire, with no pity in it.But will you hear my dream, for I had oneThat altogether went to music? StillIt awed me.’
Then she told it, having dream’dOf that same coast.
—But round the North, a light,A belt, it seem’d, of luminous vapor, lay,And ever in it a low musical noteSwell’d up and died; and, as it swell’d, a ridgeOf breaker issued from the belt, and stillGrew with the growing note, and when the noteHad reach’d a thunderous fullness, on those cliffsBroke, mixt with awful light (the same as thatLiving within the belt) whereby she sawThat all those lines of cliffs were cliffs no more,But huge cathedral fronts of every age,Grave, florid, stern, as far as eye could see,
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