flew. And still they fly, nor now they cry, But constant fan a second wake, Unflagging pinions ply and ply, Abreast their course intent they take; Their silence marks a stable mood, They patient keep their eager neighborhood. Plumed with a smoke, a confluent sea, Heaved in a combing pyramid full, Spent at its climax, in collapse Down headlong thundering stuns the hull: The trophy drops; but, reared again, Shows Mars' high-altar and contemns the main. REBUILT it stands, the brag of arms, Transferred in site--no thought of where The sensitive needle keeps its place, And starts, disturbed, a quiverer there; The helmsman rubs the clouded glass-- Peers in, but lets the trembling portent pass. Let pass as well his shipmates do (Whose dream of power no tremors jar) Fears for