The sun drops luridly into the west;
darkness has raised her arms to draw him down
before the time, not waiting as of wont
till he has come to her behind the sea;
and the smooth waves grow sullen in the gloom
and wear their threatening purple; more and more
the plain of waters sways and seems to rise
convexly from its level of the shores;
and low dull thunder rolls along the beach:
there will be storm at last, storm, glorious storm …
* Webster (1837-94) is a forgotten name among Victorian poets. In her dramatic monologue ‘Circe’, she depicts the goddess from Greek mythology as a wild but complex female figure. This poem contains the stormy (and storming) line, ‘storm at last, storm, glorious storm’, but really the whole thing is wildly turbulent.