And night came down over the solemn waste, 865
And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair,
And darken’d all; and a cold fog, with night,
Crept from the Oxus.  Soon a hum arose,
As of a great assembly loosed, and fires
Began to twinkle through the fog; for now 870
Both armies moved to camp, and took their meal;
The Persians took it on the open sands
Southward, the Tartars by the river marge;
And Rustum and his son were left alone.

But the majestic river floated on, 875
Out of the mist and hum of that low land,
Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,
Rejoicing, through the hush’d Chorasmian deg. waste, deg.878
Under the solitary moon;—­he flow’d
Right for the polar star, deg. past Orgunje, deg. deg.880
Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begin
To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,
And split his currents; that for many a league
The shorn and parcell’d Oxus strains along
Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles—­ 885
Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had
In his high mountain-cradle in Pamere,
A foil’d circuitous wanderer—­till at last
The long’d-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
His luminous home deg. of waters opens, bright deg.890
And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars deg. deg.891
Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.

SAINT BRANDAN deg.

Saint Brandan sails the northern main;
The brotherhood of saints are glad. 
He greets them once, he sails again;
So late!—­such storms!—­The Saint is mad!

He heard, across the howling seas, 5
Chime convent-bells on wintry nights;
He saw, on spray-swept Hebrides, deg. deg.7
Twinkle the monastery-lights;

But north, still north, Saint Brandan steer’d—­
And now no bells, no convents more! 10
The hurtling Polar lights deg. are near’d, deg.11
The sea without a human shore.

At last—­(it was the Christmas night;
Stars shone after a day of storm)—­
He sees float past an iceberg white, 15
And on it—­Christ!—­a living form.

That furtive mien, that scowling eye,
Of hair that red deg. and tufted fell—­ deg.18
It is—­Oh, where shall Brandan fly?—­
The traitor Judas, out of hell! 20

Palsied with terror, Brandan sate deg.; deg.21
The moon was bright, the iceberg near. 
He hears a voice sigh humbly:  “Wait! 
By high permission I am here.

“One moment wait, thou holy man 25
On earth my crime, my death, they knew;
My name is under all men’s ban—­
Ah, tell them of my respite too!