Surfers are always looking for the ninth wave
Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,
Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep
And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged
Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame:
And down the wave and in the flame was borne
A naked babe, and rode to Merlin’s feet,
Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried, ‘The King!
Here is an heir for Uther!’
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, in Idylls of the King, The Coming of Arthur