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Written in passing the Ambracian Gulph,
November 14th, 1809.
THROUGH cloudless skies, in silvery sheen,
Full beams the moon on Actium's coast: And on these waves for Egypt's queen
The ancient world was won and lost.
And now upon the scene I look,
The azure grave of many a Roman; Where stern Ambition once forsook
His wavering crown to follow woman.
Florence ! whom I will love as well
As ever yet was said or sung, (Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell)
Whilst thou art fair and I am young;
Sweet Florence! those were pleasant times,
When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes :: Had bards as many realms as rhymes, ..
Thy charms might raise new Anthonies..
Though Fate forbids such things to be
Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curld! :
But would not lose thee for a world !
Composed October 11th 1809, during the night; in a thun
der-storm, when the guides had lost the road to Zitza, near the range of mountains formerly called Pindus, in Albania.
CAILL'and mirk is the nightly blast,
Where Pindus' mountains rise,
The vengeance of the skies.
Our guides are gone, our hope is lost,
And lightnings, as they play,
Or gild the torrent's spray.
Is yon a cot I saw, though low?
When lightning broke the gloom-
"Tis but a Turkish tomb.
Through sounds of foaming waterfalls
I hear a voice exclaim-
On distant England's name.
A shot is fir’d-by foe or friend?
Another— tis to tell
And lead us where they dwell.
Oh! who in such a night will dare
To tempt the wilderness ?
Our signal of distress ?
And who that heard our shouts would rise
To try the dubious road?
That outlaws were abroad.
Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour!
More fiercely pours the storm!
To keep my bosom warm.