With Byron in Itlay; a selection of the poems and letters of Lord Byron relating to his life in ItalyEdited by Anna Benneson McMahan . re more,From these our interviews, in which I stealFrom all I may be or have been before,To mingle with the Universe, and feelWhat I can neer express, yet can not all conceal. CLXXIX Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ;Man marks the earth with ruin, his controlStops with the shore; upon the watery plainThe wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remainA shadow of mans ravage, save his own,When, for a moment, like
With Byron in Itlay; a selection of the poems and letters of Lord Byron relating to his life in ItalyEdited by Anna Benneson McMahan . re more,From these our interviews, in which I stealFrom all I may be or have been before,To mingle with the Universe, and feelWhat I can neer express, yet can not all conceal. CLXXIX Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ;Man marks the earth with ruin, his controlStops with the shore; upon the watery plainThe wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remainA shadow of mans ravage, save his own,When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelld, uncoffiVd, and unknown. CLXXX His steps are not upon thy paths, thy fieldsAre not a spoil for him, — thou dost ariseAnd shake him from thee; the vile strength he wieldsFor earths destruction thou dost all despise,Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,And sendst him, shivering in thy playful sprayAnd howling, to his Gods, where haply liesHis petty hope in some near port or bay,And dashest him again to earth : — there let him lay. [ 108 ]. =•> >?» • THE YEARS 1817, 1818, 1819 CLXXXI The armaments which thunderstrike the wallsOf rock-built cities, bidding nations quakeAnd monarchs tremble in their capitals,The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs makeTheir clay creator the vain title takeOf lord of thee and arbiter of war, —These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,They melt into thy yeast of waves, which marAlike the Armadas pride or spoils of Trafalgar. CLXXXII Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee —Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ?Thy waters washed them power while they were free,And many a tyrant since; their shores obeyThe stranger, slave, or savage; their decayHas dried up realms to deserts : —not so thou,Unchangeable save to thy wild waves play;Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow;Such as creations dawn beheld, thou rollest now. CLXXXII
Size: 1316px × 1898px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidwithbyroninitlay00byrouof
