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AS o'er the cold sepulchral stone
Some name arrests the passer-by ; Thus, when thou view'st this page alone,
May mine attract thy pensive eye!
And when by thee that name is read,
Perchance in some succeeding year,
September 14th, 1809.
TO * * *
Oh Lady! when I left the shore,
The distant shore, which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more,
To quit another spot of earth: Yet here, amidst this barren isle,
Where panting Nature droops the head, Where only thou art seen to smile,
I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's craggy shore,
Divided by the dark-blue main; A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er,
Perchance I view her cliffs again: But wheresoe'er I now may roam,
Through scorching clime, and varied sea,
I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee:
All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is to admire,
And, oh! forgive the word—to love.
With such a word can more offend;
Believe me, what I am, thy friend.
Thou lovely wand'rer, and be less ?
The friend of Beauty in distress?
Ah! who would think that form had past
Through Danger's most destructive path, Had braved the death-wing'd tempest's blast,
And ’scaped a tyrant's fiercer wrath ? Lady! when I shall view the walls
Where free Byzantium once arose; And Stamboul's Oriental halls
The Turkish tyrants now enclose ; Though mightiest in the lists of fame,
That glorious city still shall be;
As spot of thy nativity;
When I behold that wond'rous scene,
WRITTEN IN PASSING THE AMBRACIAN GULF,
NOVEMBER 14, 1809.
Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen,
Full beams the moon on Actium's coast: And on these waves, for Egypt's queen, The ancient world was won and lost.