Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 5.djvu/664

624 Till on the surf their skimming paddles play,

Buoyant as wings, and flitting through the spray;—

Now perching on the wave's high curl, and now

Dashed downward in the thundering foam below,

Which flings it broad and boiling sheet on sheet,

And slings its high flakes, shivered into sleet:

But floating still through surf and swell, drew nigh

The barks, like small birds through a lowering sky.

Their art seemed nature—such the skill to sweep

The wave of these born playmates of the deep.

VIII.

And who the first that, springing on the strand,

Leaped like a Nereid from her shell to land,

With dark but brilliant skin, and dewy eye

Shining with love, and hope, and constancy?

Neuha—the fond, the faithful, the adored—

Her heart on Torquil's like a torrent poured;

And smiled, and wept, and near, and nearer clasped,

As if to be assured 'twas him she grasped;

Shuddered to see his yet warm wound, and then,

To find it trivial, smiled and wept again.

She was a warrior's daughter, and could bear

Such sights, and feel, and mourn, but not despair.

Her lover lived,—nor foes nor fears could blight

That full-blown moment in its all delight:

Joy trickled in her tears, joy filled the sob

That rocked her heart till almost to throb;

And Paradise was breathing in the sigh

Of Nature's child in Nature's ecstasy.

IX.

The sterner spirits who beheld that meeting

Were not unmoved; who are, when hearts are greeting?

Even Christian gazed upon the maid and boy

With tearless eye, but yet a gloomy joy

Mixed with those bitter thoughts the soul arrays

In hopeless visions of our better days,

When all's gone—to the rainbow's latest ray.

"And but for me!" he said, and turned away;