All night long they heard in the houses beside the shore, Heard, or seemed to hear, through the multitudinous roar, Out of the hell of the rapids as 'twere a lost soul's cries Heard and could not believe; and the morning mocked their eyes, Showing where wildest and fiercest the waters leaped up and ran Raving round him and past, the visage of a man Clinging, or seeming to cling, to the trunk of a tree that, caught Fast in the rocks below, scarce out of the surges raught.
Was it a life, could it be, to yon slender hope that clung Shrill, above all the tumult the answering terror rang.
