His steps are not upon thy paths,-thy fields Are not a spoil for him,- thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields

For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth: — there let him lay.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form

Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; - boundless, endless, and sublime

The image of Eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers - they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror -'twas a pleasing fear, For I was, as it were, a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane-as I do here. Lord Byron

ON THE LIDO

FROM Julian and Maddalo

RODE one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the
flow

Of Adria towards Venice. A bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,
Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds,
Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze
breeds,

Is this; an uninhabited sea-side,

Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, Abandons; and no other object breaks

The waste but one dwarf tree and some few stakes

Broken and unrepaired, and the tide makes

A narrow space of level sand thereon,

Where 'twas our wont to ride while day went down.

This ride was my delight. I love all waste
And solitary places; where we taste
The pleasure of believing what we see
Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be:
And such was this wide ocean, and this shore
More barren than its billows; and yet more
Than all, with a remembered friend I love
To ride as then I rode; - for the winds drove
The living spray along the sunny air

Into our faces; the blue heavens were bare,
Stripped to their depths by the awakening north;
And, from the waves, sound like delight broke
forth

Harmonizing with solitude, and sent

Into our hearts aërial merriment.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

DRIFTING

My soul to-day

Is far away

Sailing the Vesuvian Bay;
My winged boat,

A bird afloat,

Swims round the purple peaks remote:

Round purple peaks

It sails and seeks

Blue inlets and their crystal creeks,
Where high rocks throw,

Through deeps below,

A duplicated golden glow.

Far, vague, and dim,

The mountains swim;
While on Vesuvius' misty brim
With outstretched hands,
The gray smoke stands
O'erlooking the volcanic lands.

Here Ischia smiles

O'er liquid miles;

And yonder, bluest of the isles,

Calm Capri waits,

Her sapphire gates

Beguiling to her bright estates.

I heed not, if

My rippling skiff

Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff:

With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies

Under the walls of Paradise.

Under the walls

Where swells and falls

The bay's deep breast at intervals,
At peace I lie,

Blown softly by,

A cloud upon the liquid sky.

The day so mild

Is Heaven's own child,

With Earth and Ocean reconciled;
The airs I feel

Around me steal

Are murmuring to the murmuring keel.

Over the rail

My hand I trail

Within the shadow of the sail;
A joy intense,

The cooling sense

Glides down my drowsy indolence.

With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies

Where summer sings and never dies;
O'erveiled with vines,

She glows and shines
Among her future oil and wines.

Her children, hid

The cliffs amid,

Are gambolling with the gambolling kid;

Or down the walls

With tipsy calls,

Laugh in the rocks like waterfalls.

The fisher's child,

With tresses wild,

Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled,

With glowing lips

Sings as she skips,

And gazes at the far-off ships.

Yon deep bark goes

Where traffic blows,

From lands of sun to lands of snows;
This happier one,

Its course is run

From lands of snow to lands of sun.

O happy ship,
To rise and dip,

With the blue crystal at your lip!

O happy crew,

My heart with you

Sails, and sails, and sings anew!

No more, no more

The worldly shore
Upbraids me with its loud uproar!
With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies

Under the walls of Paradise.

Thomas Buchanan Read

IN GUERNSEY

I

HE heavenly bay, ringed round with cliffs and moors,

TH

Storm-stain'd ravines, and crags that lawns in

lay,

Soothes as with love the rocks whose guard se

cures

The heavenly bay.