noon
The cellarer said there was a lot o ' foreign gold locked up in there , and that must ha ' been what was heaved out . I warrant there 'll be no more Black Magic in Temple Assheton . '' THE EBBING TIDE The sun has gone from the heights of heaven , The knights a-tilting no longer ride , The sails are vanished , the beaches empty -- There is nothing left but the ebbing tide . At dawn we sounded our heady challenge , At noon our blood beat high i ' the sun , At eve we rode where the wolf-pack follow -- The night is falling , our course is run . But the tide runs out through the gates of sunset , And the living fires of Atlantis glow Between the clouds and the long sea-level , Beyond the waters we used to know . Hy-Brasail gleams with its towers of beryl , Tourmaline , hyacinth , topaz and pearl , Free to the King if he have but the pass-word , Free to the veriest low-born churl . For Earth levels all who have known her and loved her , And the soul fares forth where the great stars guide On the viewless path of the calling waters -- Out to Hy-Brasail upon the tide !