12. 
‘And then,’ she said, ’he laid me in a cave
Above the waters, by that chasm of sea, 2930
A fountain round and vast, in which the wave
Imprisoned, boiled and leaped perpetually,
Down which, one moment resting, he did flee,
Winning the adverse depth; that spacious cell
Like an hupaithric temple wide and high, 2935
Whose aery dome is inaccessible,
Was pierced with one round cleft through which the sunbeams fell.

13. 
’Below, the fountain’s brink was richly paven
With the deep’s wealth, coral, and pearl, and sand
Like spangling gold, and purple shells engraven 2940
With mystic legends by no mortal hand,
Left there, when thronging to the moon’s command,
The gathering waves rent the Hesperian gate
Of mountains, and on such bright floor did stand
Columns, and shapes like statues, and the state 2945
Of kingless thrones, which Earth did in her heart create.

14. 
’The fiend of madness which had made its prey
Of my poor heart, was lulled to sleep awhile: 
There was an interval of many a day,
And a sea-eagle brought me food the while, 2950
Whose nest was built in that untrodden isle,
And who, to be the gaoler had been taught
Of that strange dungeon; as a friend whose smile
Like light and rest at morn and even is sought
That wild bird was to me, till madness misery brought. 2955

15. 
’The misery of a madness slow and creeping,
Which made the earth seem fire, the sea seem air,
And the white clouds of noon which oft were sleeping,
In the blue heaven so beautiful and fair,
Like hosts of ghastly shadows hovering there; 2960
And the sea-eagle looked a fiend, who bore
Thy mangled limbs for food!—­Thus all things were
Transformed into the agony which I wore
Even as a poisoned robe around my bosom’s core.

16. 
’Again I knew the day and night fast fleeing, 2965
The eagle, and the fountain, and the air;
Another frenzy came—­there seemed a being
Within me—­a strange load my heart did bear,
As if some living thing had made its lair
Even in the fountains of my life:—­a long 2970
And wondrous vision wrought from my despair,
Then grew, like sweet reality among
Dim visionary woes, an unreposing throng.

17. 
’Methought I was about to be a mother—­
Month after month went by, and still I dreamed 2975
That we should soon be all to one another,
I and my child; and still new pulses seemed
To beat beside my heart, and still I deemed
There was a babe within—­and, when the rain
Of winter through the rifted cavern streamed, 2980
Methought, after a lapse of lingering pain,
I saw that lovely shape, which near my heart had lain.