Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/122

88 I am the Spirit of the place,

Could make the mountain bow

And quiver to his caverned base—

And what with me would'st Thou?

Voice of the.

In the blue depth of the waters,

Where the wave hath no strife,

Where the Wind is a stranger,

And the Sea-snake hath life,

Where the Mermaid is decking

Her green hair with shells,

Like the storm on the surface

Came the sound of thy spells;

O'er my calm Hall of Coral

The deep Echo rolled—

To the Spirit of Ocean

Thy wishes unfold!

.

Where the slumbering Earthquake

Lies pillowed on fire,

And the lakes of bitumen

Rise boilingly higher;

Where the roots of the Andes

Strike deep in the earth,

As their summits to heaven

Shoot soaringly forth;

I have quitted my birthplace,

Thy bidding to bide—

Thy spell hath subdued me,

Thy will be my guide!

.

I am the Rider of the wind,

The Stirrer of the storm;

The hurricane I left behind

Is yet with lightning warm;