Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/502

458 Man marks the earth with ruin—his control

Stops with the shore;—upon the watery plain

The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain

A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan—

Without a grave—unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

CLXXX.

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.