| |
| A LINE of light! it is the inland sea, | |
| The least in compass and the first in fame; | |
| The gleaming of its waves recalls to me | |
| Full many an ancient name. | |
| |
| As through my dreamland float the days of old, | 5 |
| The forms and features of their heroes shine: | |
| I see Phœnician sailors bearing gold | |
| From the Tartessian mine. | |
| |
| Seeking new worlds, storm-toss’d Ulysses ploughs | |
| Remoter surges of the winding main; | 10 |
| And Grecian captains come to pay their vows, | |
| Or gather up the slain. | |
| |
| I see the temples of the Violet Crown | |
| Burn upward in the hour of glorious flight; | |
| And mariners of uneclips’d renown, | 15 |
| Who won the great sea fight. | |
| |
| I hear the dashing of a thousand oars, | |
| The angry waters take a deeper dye; | |
| A thousand echoes vibrate from the shores | |
| With Athens’ battle-cry. | 20 |
| |
| Again the Carthaginian rovers sweep, | |
| With sword and commerce, on from shore to shore; | |
| In visionary storms the breakers leap | |
| Round Syrtes, as of yore. | |
| |
| Victory, sitting on the Seven Hills, | 25 |
| Had gain’d the world when she had master’d thee; | |
| Thy bosom with the Roman war-note thrills, | |
| Wave of the inland sea. | |
| |
| Then, singing as they sail in shining ships, | |
| I see the monarch minstrels of Romance, | 30 |
| And hear their praises murmur’d through the lips | |
| Of the fair dames of France. | |
| |
| Across the deep another music swells, | |
| On Adrian bays a later splendor smiles; | |
| Power hails the marble city where she dwells | 35 |
| Queen of a hundred isles. | |
| |
| Westward the galleys of the Crescent roam, | |
| And meet the Pisan; challenge on the breeze, | |
| Till the long Dorian palace lords the foam | |
| With stalwart Genoese. | 40 |
| |
| But the light fades; the vision wears away; | |
| I see the mist above the dreary wave. | |
| Blow, winds of Freedom, give another day | |
| Of glory to the brave! | |
| |
