Page:Fisher's drawing room scrap book; with poetical illustrations by L.E.L (1832).djvu/39




 * prize is won, our chase is o'er,
 * Turn the vessel to the shore.
 * Place yon rock, so that the wind,
 * Like a prisoner, howl behind;
 * Which is darkest—wave, or cloud?
 * One a grave, and one a shroud.
 * Though the thunder rend the sky,
 * Though the echoing wind reply,
 * Though the lightning sweep the seas,
 * We are used to nights like these;
 * Let it foam, the angry main—
 * Washing out the blood-red stain.
 * Which the evening conflict threw
 * O'er the waters bright and blue.
 * Though above the thunder break.
 * Twill but drown our victims' shriek;
 * And the lightning's serpent coil,
 * Will but glimmer o'er our spoil:
 * Maidens, in whose orient eyes.
 * More than morning's sunshine lies—
 * Honour to the wind and waves,
 * While they yield us such sweet slaves—
 * Shawls the richest of Cashmere,
 * Pearls from Oman's bay are here;
 * And Golconda's royal mine
 * Sends her diamonds here to shine;
 * Let the stars at midnight glow,
 * We have brighter stars below;
 * Leave the planet of the pole
 * Just to guide us to our goal,
 * We'd not change for heaven's own stars,
 * Yon glad heap of red dinars;*