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CANTO IV.
I.
N Acta's realm a cry of fear was heard,
"What mean these troublous voices of the sea?
Wilder than shriek of battling ocean-bird
They utter prophecies of woes to be;
They call, they answer—'Who shall help decree?
Behold the wings of swift despair outspread!
Sleep shall make bond the souls that yet are free:
Deep sighs there be, low-breathed among the dead,
With whisperings faint they rise, the dewless winds they tread!'"
N Acta's realm a cry of fear was heard,"What mean these troublous voices of the sea?
Wilder than shriek of battling ocean-bird
They utter prophecies of woes to be;
They call, they answer—'Who shall help decree?
Behold the wings of swift despair outspread!
Sleep shall make bond the souls that yet are free:
Deep sighs there be, low-breathed among the dead,
With whisperings faint they rise, the dewless winds they tread!'"
II.
And pale were Acta's children: "Lo," they cried,
"The sun, at noon, has worn the veil of night!
Nor now in steadfast state the stars abide,
And pale were Acta's children: "Lo," they cried,
"The sun, at noon, has worn the veil of night!
Nor now in steadfast state the stars abide,
