silently advancing to overwhelm the rose and 

 copper and gold, while these recede and slip out 

 to sea, growing fainter and fainter until they are 

 absorbed in the all-pervading dusk. In the suc- 

 ceeding darkness one beholds, not the sea, but a 

 vast bottomless pit, Dantesque and terrible. 



Above all else it is the immense vigor of the 

 sea which appeals to us. We are made to feel the 

 play of cosmic forces. The long stretch of rocky 

 coast is rude and Titanic; the expanse of ocean 

 suggests that chaos from which the earth has 

 gradually been redeemed. The waters piling them- 

 selves up are as elemental and chaotic as nebulae 

 or the seething envelopes of the sun. It is in- 

 credible they should be hitched to the gentle 

 moon, and should follow that pale phantom like 

 a leashed panther, now purring, no*y growling, 

 but obedient always. The mountains impress one 

 with their age, the sea with its agelessness. Here 

 at least is something which appears superior to 

 Time. It is no more youth than it is age — the 

 formless, without beginning and without end, but 

 always that superabundant vigor, power, freedom. 



Denuded woodland and disfigured landscape 

 bring to mind that iron Necessity which it is not 



20I 



