Or spread beneath the sun the dripping net;
Gaze where some distant sail a speck supplies,
With all the thirsting eye of Enterprize;
Tell o'er the tales of many a night of toil,

And marvel where they next shall seize a spoil:
No matter where their chief's allotment this;
Theirs, to believe no prey nor plan amiss.

60

But who that CHIEF? his name on every shore
Is famed and feared they ask and know no more.
With these he mingles not but to command;
Few are his words, but keen his

eye

and hand.
Ne'er seasons he with mirth their jovial mess,
But they forgive his silence for success.
Ne'er for his lip the purpling cup they fill,
That goblet passes him untasted still-
And for his fare the rudest of his crew

Would that, in turn, have passed untasted too; 70
Earth's coarsest bread, the garden's homeliest

roots,

And scarce the summer luxury of fruits,
His short repast in humbleness supply

With all a hermit's board would scarce deny.
But while he shuns the grosser joys of sense,
His mind seems nourished by that abstinence.
"Steer to that shore!" they sail. "Do this!"
'tis done:

"Now form and follow me!"

the spoil is won.

Thus prompt his accents and his acttons still,
And all obey and few enquire his will;
To such, brief answer and contemptuous eye
Convey reproof, nor further deign reply.

III.

80

"A sail!

a sail!"

a promised prize to Hope!

Her nation-flag- how speaks the telescope?
No prize, alas! but yet a welcome sail:
The blood-red signal glitters in the gale.

Yes she is ours

a home returning bark

Blow fair, thou breeze!—she anchors ere the dark. Already doubled is the cape our bay

Receives that prow which proudly spurns the

spray.

How gloriously her gallant course she goes!

Her white wings flying never from her foes
She walks the waters like a thing of life,

And seems to dare the elements to strife.

90

Who would not brave the battle-fire-the wreckTo move the monarch of her peopled deck?

IV.

Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable rings; The sails are furled; and anchoring round she swings:

VOL. III.

B

100

And gathering loiterers on the land discern
Her boat descending from the latticed stern.
"Tis manned-the oars keep concert to the strand,
Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.
Hail to the welcome shout! the friendly speech!
When hand grasps hand uniting on the beach;
The smile, the question, and the quick reply,
And the heart's promise of festivity!

v.

The tidings spread, and gathering grows the growd:
The hum of voices, and the laughter loud,
And woman's gentler anxious tone is heard
Friends' husbands' - lovers' names in each dear

word:

110

"Oh! are they safe? we ask not of success "But shall we see them? will their accents bless? "From where the battle roars -the billows chafe"They doubtless boldly did but who are safe? "Here let them haste to gladden and surprize, "And kiss the doubt from these delighted eyes!".

for him we bear report ·

which hails our coming

120

"Yet thus sincere -'tis cheering, though so brief; "But, Juan! instant guide us to our chief: "Our greeting paid, we'll feast on our return, "And all shall hear what each may wish to learn." Ascending slowly by the rock-hewn way,

To where his watch-tower beetles o'er the bay, By bushy brake, and wild flowers blossoming, And freshness breathing from cach silver spring, Whose scattered streams from granite basins burst,' Leap into life, and sparkling woo your thirst; From crag to cliff they mount-Near yonder cave, What lonely straggler looks along the wave? 130 In pensive posture leaning on the brand,

Mot oft a resting- staff to that red hand?

""Tis he 'tis Conrad here—as wont- alone; and make our purpose known.

"On Juan! on

"The bark he views-and tell him we would greet "His car with tidings he must quickly meet:

"We dare not yet approach thou know'st his

mood,

He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute.

"These letters, Chief, are from the Greek

the spy,

"Who still proclaims our spoil or peril nigh:
"Whate'er his tidings, we can well repòrt,
"Much that" "Peace, peace!"

their prating short.

He cuts

150

Wondering they turn, abashed, while each to each
Conjecture whispers in his muttering speech:
They watch his glance with many a stealing look,
To gather how that eye the tidings took;
But, this as if he guessed, with head aside,
Perchance from some emotion, doubt, or pride,
"My tablets, Juan, hark

--

He read the scroll
"Where is Gonsalvo?"

"There let him stay Back to your duty

"In the anchored bark."

to him this order bear,

for my course prepare:

"Myself this enterprize to-night will share.” "To-night, Lord Conrad?"

"The breeze will freshen when the day is done.

"Sling on thy bugle

see that free from rust,

"My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust;

"Be the edge sharpened of my boarding-brand,