XII. The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew, The silent thought, nor from his lips did come XIII. But when the sun was sinking in the sea He seized his harp, which he at times could string, When deem'd he no strange ear was listening: And fleeting shores receded from his sight, 1. ADIEU, adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea My native Land-Good Night! 2. A few short hours and he will rise To give the morrow birth; Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate. 3. "Come hither, hither, my little page !8 But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; Our ship is swift and strong: Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly More merrily along."" "Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, I fear not wave nor wind: 10 Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I Am sorrowful in mind; For I have from my father gone, A mother whom I love, And have no friend, save these alone, But thee-and one above. 3. "My father bless'd me fervently, 6. "Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman,12 Why dost thou look so pale? Or dost thou dread a French foeman ? "Deem'st thou I tremble for my life? Sir Childe, I'm not so weak; But thinking on an absent wife 7. "My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, Along the bordering lake, And when they on their father call, 8. For who would trust the seeming sighs Of wife or paramour? Fresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes We late saw streaming o'er." 9. And now I'm in the world alone, But long ere I come back again 10. With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves! And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves! My native Land-Good Night !17 XIV. On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone, And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap, And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap. XV. Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land! What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand! But man would mar them with an impious hand: And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge 'Gainst those who most transgress his high command, With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge Gaul's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purge.18 XVI. What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold ! 19 Her image floating on that noble tide, Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,20 But now whereon a thousand keels did ride Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied, And to the Lusians did her aid afford: A nation swoln with ignorance and pride, Who lick yet loathe the hand that waves the sword To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord. |