331 And the hum of the hot blood that spouts and rains Where the gripe of the tiger has wounded the veins S woln with rage, strength, and effort ; the whirl and the splash, As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth smash The thin winds and soft waves into thunder ; the screams And hissings ‚Äî crawl fast o'er the smooth ocean-streams, Each sound like a centipede.
FRAGMENTS.  331 And the hum of the hot blood that spouts and rains Where the gripe of the tiger has wounded the veins S woln with rage, strength, and effort ; the whirl and the splash, As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth smash The thin winds and soft waves into thunder ; the screams And hissings ‚Äî crawl fast o'er the smooth ocean-streams, Each sound like a centipede.  Near this commotion, A blue shark is hanging within the blue ocean, The fin- winged tomb of the victor.