Mighty fleets were strewn like chaff
  And spread beneath a hell of death
  O'er the white waters. I alit
  On a great ship lightning-split,
  And speeded hither on the sigh
  Of one who gave an enemy
  His plank, then plunged aside to die.

THIRD SPIRIT
  I sat beside a sage's bed,
  And the lamp was burning red
  Near the book where he had fed,
  When a Dream with plumes of flame
  To his pillow hovering came,
  And I knew it was the same
  Which had kindled long ago
  Pity, eloquence, and woe;
  And the world awhile below
  Wore the shade its lustre made.
  It has borne me here as fleet
  As Desire's lightning feet;
  I must ride it back ere morrow,
  Or the sage will wake in sorrow.