Chapter XLIV

The figure seemed to grow; its dazzling eyes
Were for a while upon Sire Williams bent,
Then upward turned, and, looking to the skies,
Spake hope in God with silence eloquent.
Still did it brighten, still its stature rise,
With Heaven’s own grandeur seeming to augment;--
The pilgrim staff no longer did it hold,
But on an Anchor leant that blazed ethereal gold.