IV.

STANZAS

Composed October 11th 1809, during the night; in a thunder-storm, when the guides had lost the road to Zitza, near the range of mountains formerly called Pindus, in Albania.

1.

CHILL and mirk is the nightly blast,

Where Pindus' mountains rise,

And angry clouds are pouring fast

The vengeance of the skies.

2.

Our guides are gone, our hope is lost,
And lightnings, as they play,

But show where rocks our path have crost,
Or gild the torrent's spray.

3.

Is yon a cot I saw, though low?
When lightning broke the gloom—
How welcome were its shade!—ah, no!
'Tis but a Turkish tomb.

4.

Through sounds of foaming waterfalls

I hear a voice exclaim

My way-worn countryman, who calls
On distant England's name.

5.

A shot is fir'd-by foe or friend?
Another 'tis to tell

The mountain-peasants to descend,

And lead us where they dwell.

6.

Oh! who in such a night will dare
To tempt the wilderness?

And who 'mid thunder peals can hear

Our signal of distress?

7.

And who that heard our shouts would rise

To try the dubious road?

Nor rather deem from nightly cries

That outlaws were abroad.

8.

Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour! More fiercely pours the storm!

Yet here one thought has still the power

9.

While wand'ring through each broken path,

O'er brake and craggy brow;

While elements exhaust their wrath,

Sweet Florence, where art thou?

10.

Not on the sea, not on the sea,
Thy bark hath long been gone:
Oh, may the storm that pours on me,
Bow down my head alone!

11.

Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc,
When last I pressed thy lip;

And long ere now with foaming shock
Impell'd thy gallant ship.

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 lattic'd halls

Look o'er the dark blue sea;