And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy. I wantoned with thy breakers, . . . . . And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane,as I do here.1
Childe Harolds Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 184.
Note 1. He laid his hand upon the oceans mane, And played familiar with his hoary locks. Robert Pollok: The Course of Time, book iv. line 389. [back]