Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 5.djvu/633

CANTO I.] Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din:

Whatever creed be taught, or land be trod,

Man's conscience is the Oracle of God.

VII.

The launch is crowded with the faithful few

Who wait their Chief, a melancholy crew:

But some remained reluctant on the deck

Of that proud vessel—now a moral wreck—

And viewed their Captain's fate with piteous eyes;

While others scoffed his augured miseries,

Sneered at the prospect of his pigmy sail,

And the slight bark so laden and so frail.

The tender nautilus, who steers his prow,

The sea-born sailor of his shell canoe,

The ocean Mab, the fairy of the sea,

Seems far less fragile, and, alas! more free.

He, when the lightning-winged Tornados sweep

The surge, is safe—his port is in the deep—

And triumphs o'er the armadas of Mankind,

Which shake the World, yet crumble in the wind.

VIII.

When all was now prepared, the vessel clear

Which hailed her master in the mutineer,

A seaman, less obdurate than his mates,

Showed the vain pity which but irritates;

Watched his late Chieftain with exploring eye,

And told, in signs, repentant sympathy;

Held the moist shaddock to his parchéd mouth,

Which felt Exhaustion's deep and bitter drouth.

But soon observed, this guardian was withdrawn,

Nor further Mercy clouds Rebellion's dawn.