Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/152

118 The foul—the fair—the contrary—the kind—

As breezes rise and fall and billows swell,

Till on some jocund morn—lo, Land! and All is well!

XXIX.

But not in silence pass Calypso's isles,N10

The sister tenants of the middle deep;

There for the weary still a Haven smiles,

Though the fair Goddess long hath ceased to weep,

And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep

For him who dared prefer a mortal bride:

Here, too, his boy essayed the dreadful leap

Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;

While thus of both bereft, the Nymph-Queen doubly sighed.

XXX.

Her reign is past, her gentle glories gone:

But trust not this; too easy Youth, beware!

A mortal Sovereign holds her dangerous throne,

And thou may'st find a new Calypso there.

Sweet Florence! could another ever share

This wayward, loveless heart, it would be thine: