Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/146

112 That strict restraint, which broken, ever balks

Conquest and Fame: but Britons rarely swerve

From law, however stern, which tends their strength to nerve.

XX.

Blow! swiftly blow, thou keel-compelling gale!

Till the broad Sun withdraws his lessening ray:

Then must the Pennant-bearer slacken sail,

That lagging barks may make their lazy way.

Ah! grievance sore, and listless dull delay,

To waste on sluggish hulks the sweetest breeze!

What leagues are lost, before the dawn of day,

Thus loitering pensive on the willing seas,

The flapping sail hauled down to halt for logs like these!

XXI.

The Moon is up; by Heaven, a lovely eve!

Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand;

Now lads on shore may sigh, and maids believe:

Such be our fate when we return to land!