Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests: in all time, Calm or convulsed, in breeze or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime, Dark-heaving, boundless, endless, and sublime— The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made: each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. Byron.
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