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Not on the sea, not on the sea,
Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc,
And long ere now, with foaming shock,
Now thou art safe; nay, long ere now
And since I now remember thee
As in those hours of revelry
Do thou amidst the fair white walls,
If Cadiz yet be free,
At times from out her latticed halls
Look o'er the dark blue sea;
Then think upon Calypso's isles,
To others give a thousand smiles,
And when the admiring circle mark
A half-form'd tear, a transient spark
Of melancholy grace,
Again thou 'lt smile, and blushing shun Some coxcomb's raillery;
Nor own for once thou thought'st of one,
Who ever thinks on thee.
Though smile and sigh alike are vain,
My spirit flies o'er mount and main,
WRITTEN AT ATHENS.
JANUARY 16, 1810.
THE spell is broke, the charm is flown!
Recalls the woes of Nature's charter,
But lives, as saints have died, a martyr.
WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABY DOS. (1)
MAY 9, 1810.
IF, in the month of dark December,
If, when the wintry tempest roar'd,
For me, degenerate modern wretch,
But since he cross'd the rapid tide
To woo,-and-Lord knows what beside,