I. THERE lies betwixt dead Pisa and the sea A haunted forest, with a heart so deep, That none could sit beneath its pines to weep, But it would throb for them mysteriously. Here, in this place I dreamed there met with me The spirit who his part in it doth keep, Albeit his starry orbit now hath sweep As vast as Galileo's, if more free. He drew me on to where the hollow beat Of waves upon a shore seemed to my mind The moan of a remorseful soul, to weet The homicidal Sea, whose passion blind Had slain him; as it writhed about my feet Methought his spirit passed me on the wind. II. Wild Sea, that drank his life to quench the thirst Thou had'st of him; and all devouring Fire, Who made his body thine with love as dire; Air pregnate with his breath, and thou accurst, Mother of Sorrows, Earth, whose claim is first Upon thy children dead, who from the pyre Received his dust,—what did his soul require— Wring from ye—ere your Protean bonds he burst? Perchance ye failed to reach him, and he hath O'er-leapt the rounds of change the earthlier dead May weary through, nor needing Lethean bath To speed anew his soul's ethereal tread, Hath left the elements, spurned from his path, To challenge grosser spirits in his stead.
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