Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 5.djvu/678

638 XIII.

The deed was over! All were gone or ta'en,

The fugitive, the captive, or the slain.

Chained on the deck, where once, a gallant crew,

They stood with honour, were the wretched few

Survivors of the skirmish on the isle;

But the last rock left no surviving spoil.

Cold lay they where they fell, and weltering,

While o'er them flapped the sea-birds' dewy wing,

Now wheeling nearer from the neighbouring surge,

And screaming high their harsh and hungry dirge:

But calm and careless heaved the wave below,

Eternal with unsympathetic flow;

Far o'er its face the Dolphins sported on,

And sprung the flying fish against the sun,

Till its dried wing relapsed from its brief height,

To gather moisture for another flight.

XIV.

'Twas morn; and Neuha, who by dawn of day

Swam smoothly forth to catch the rising ray,

And watch if aught approached the amphibious lair

Where lay her lover, saw a sail in air:

It flapped, it filled, and to the growing gale

Bent its broad arch: her breath began to fail

With fluttering fear, her heart beat thick and high,

While yet a doubt sprung where its course might lie.

But no! it came not; fast and far away

The shadow lessened as it cleared the bay.

She gazed, and flung the sea-foam from her eyes,

To watch as for a rainbow in the skies.

On the horizon verged the distant deck,

Diminished, dwindled to a very speck—

Then vanished. All was Ocean, all was Joy!

Down plunged she through the cave to rouse her boy;

Told all she had seen, and all she hoped, and all

That happy love could augur or recall;

Sprung forth again, with Torquil following free

His bounding Nereid over the broad sea;