No More Learning

Through the air and over the sea we sped, _1145
And Cythna in my sheltering bosom lay,
And the winds bore me--through the           spread
Around, the gaping earth then vomited
Legions of foul and ghastly shapes, which hung
Upon my flight; and ever, as we fled, _1150
They plucked at Cythna--soon to me then clung
A sense of actual things those monstrous dreams among.