12. Now thou art safe; nay, long ere now Hast trod the shore of Spain; "Twere hard if ought so fair as thou Should linger on the main. 13. And since I now remember thee In darkness and in dread, As in those hours of revelry Which mirth and music sped; 14. Do thou amidst the fair white walls, If Cadiz yet be free, At times from out her latticed halls Look o'er the dark blue sea; 15. Then think upon Calypso's isles, To others give a thousand smiles, To me a single sigh. 16. And when the admiring circle mark The paleness of thy face, A half-form'd tear, a transient spark Of melancholy grace, 17. Again thou❜lt smile, and blushing shun Some coxcomb's raillery ; Nor own for once thou thought'st of one, Who ever thinks on thee. 18. Though smile and sigh alike are vain, My spirit flies o'er mount and main, And mourns in search of thine. WRITTEN AT ATHENS. JANUARY 16, 1810. THE spell is broke, the charm is flown! Thus is it with life's fitful fever: We madly smile when we should groan ; Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought Recalls the woes of Nature's charter, And he that acts as wise men ought, But lives, as saints have died, a martyr. WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS. (1) MAY 9, 1810. 1. IF, in the month of dark December, (What maid will not the tale remember?) 2. If, when the wintry tempest roar'd, 3. For me, degenerate modern wretch, And think I've done a feat to-day. 4. But since he cross'd the rapid tide, According to the doubtful story, To woo,-and-Lord knows what beside, 5. "Twere hard to say who fared the best: Sad mortals! thus the Gods still plague you! He lost his labour, I my jest: For he was drown'd, and I've the ague. |