ICEBEEGS. 209 



Hark ! from the depths of yonder glistening mass 

 Come thunderings, as if the mighty Thor 

 Had made his fortress there, and offered war 



To Ocean's monsters from a throne of glass. 



Yet sea-birds shy, as 'twere no fearsome place, 

 Alight and rest, and dolphins round it play 

 Within the circle of its surf and spray : 



Men only turn in terror from its face. 



So trend the monsters southward haughtily, 

 Admired, and feared, and wondrous for a time, 

 Till 'neath the soft, insidious southern clime 



They fall the prey of Sun and fawning Sea. 



