He looked, and saw the ark hull on the flood, Which now abated; for the clouds were fled, Driven by a keen north-wind, that, blowing dry, Wrinkled the face of deluge, as decayed; And the clear sun on his wide watery glass Gazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, As after thirst; which made their flowing shrink From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopt His sluices, as the heaven his windows shut. The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground, Fast on the top of some high mountain fixed. And now the tops of hills as rocks appear; With clamour thence the rapid currents drive Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, And after him, the surer messenger, A dove, sent forth once and again to spy Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light; The second time returning, in his bill An olive-leaf he brings, pacific sign. Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark The ancient sire descends, with all his train; Then, with uplifted hands and eyes devout,