Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/280

248 Before them burns the lamp, and spreads the chart,

And all that speaks and aids the naval art;

They to the midnight watch protract debate;

To anxious eyes what hour is ever late?

Meantime, the steady breeze serenely blew,

And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew;

Passed the high headlands of each clustering isle,

To gain their port—long—long ere morning smile:

And soon the night-glass through the narrow bay

Discovers where the Pacha's galleys lay.

Count they each sail, and mark how there supine

The lights in vain o'er heedless Moslem shine.

Secure, unnoted, Conrad's prow passed by,

And anchored where his ambush meant to lie;

Screened from espial by the jutting cape,

That rears on high its rude fantastic shape.

Then rose his band to duty—not from sleep—

Equipped for deeds alike on land or deep;

While leaned their Leader o'er the fretting flood,

And calmly talked—and yet he talked of blood!