High howled the wind, the Ocean hurled
His mass of crested jet uncurled
Against the sea-wall and the tower
Where Dahud and her paramour
In shuttered silence, silky white
Lay side by side the live-long night.
The people ran about the street
Their fearful voice, their wet hands beat
Against the opposing steely door
All smoothly silent, as before.

Confusedly in Dahud's arm
He felt presentiment of harm
Raising his ears from her white skin
And heart's noise, to the people's din
And beyond them, the growling roar
Of angry Ocean at the door.

"Go to the window," then said she,
"Tell me the movement of the sea
His colour and his strategy."

"Lady, his waves are green as glass
The sky is jet, the small skiffs pass
From gulf to gulf like flying things
Soaked through, sucked down, with sodden wings."

"Then come to me and my embrace--
I will press kisses on your face
Whose heat and sharpness shall occlude
The murmuring of the multitude
The rumble of the waters rude."

Bewitched, he does her bidding, till
He hears a splashing at the sill
Of the tower's portal, and he cries
"Lady, he comes, and we must rise."

"'Tis he must rise," she answers fast,
"We are safe until the iron gate's past.
Go to the window, tell to me,
The pace and movement of the sea
His colour and his strategy."

"Lady, his waves are livid pale
The sky is covered with a veil
Of flying foam, and drowning men
Cry from the crests and sink again."

"Come and lie still within my arms,
What care we for these weak things' harms?
I can subdue him with my charms."

Again he stirs, again he cries,
"The Ocean comes, and we must rise."

"Go to the window, tell to me
The height and movement of the sea
His colour and his strategy."

"Lady, his waves are black and boil
Like stinking pitch, like raging oil,
He mounts and mounts, his million jaws
Snatch at the tower with open maws
Fringéd with foam-teeth, curv'd and white
Shape-shifting monsters of the night
Now one, now myriad, open, high.
Lady, I cannot see the sky.
The stars are out, the waters race
Where the town was, over the place
Where steeple pointed, clock-tower smiled.
Now all is turbulent and wild.
There is a sound of grinding chains
The very tower sways and strains
He laughs with rage, flings his fist down.
Now rise up, lady, or we drown."