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And who that heard our shouts would rise
Nor rather deem from nightly cries
Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour!
Yet here one thought has still the power
While wand'ring through each broken path,
Sweet Florence, where art thou?
Not on the sea, not on the sea,
Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc,
And long ere now, with foaming shock, Impell'd thy gallant ship.
Now thou art safe; nay, long ere now
And since I now remember thee
Do thou amidst the fair white walls,
At times from out her latticed halls
Then think upon Calypso's isles,
And when the admiring circle mark
A half-form'd tear, a transient spark
Again thou 'It smile, and blushing shun Some coxcomb's raillery;
Nor own for once thou thought'st of one, Who ever thinks on thee.
Though smile and sigh alike are vain,
My spirit flies o'er mount and main,
WRITTEN AT ATHENS,
JANUARY 16, 1810.
THE spell is broke, the charm is flown!
Recalls the woes of Nature's charter,
WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS,(1) MAY 9, 1810.
IF, in the month of dark December,
If, when the wintry tempest roar'd,
(1) On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette (Captain Bathurst) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant Ekenhead of that frigate, and the writer of these rhymes, swam from the European shore to the Asiatic-by-the-by, from Abydos to Šestos would have been more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, including the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those on board the frigate at upwards of four English miles; though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such that no boat can row directly across, and it may in some measure be estimated from the circumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one of the parties in an hour and five, and by the other in an hour and ten, minutes. The water was extremely cold from the melting of the mountain snows. About three weeks before, in April, we had made an attempt, but having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning and the water being of an icy chilness, we found it necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored below the castles, when we swam the straits, as just stated; entering a considerable way above the European, and landing below the Asiatic, fort. Chevalier says that a young Jew swam the same distance for his mistress; and Oliver mentions its having been done by a Neapolitan; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered neither of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A number of the Salsette's crew were known to have accomplished a greater distance; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever endeavoured to ascertain its practicability.
For me, degenerate modern wretch,
But since he cross'd the rapid tide,
To woo,-and Lord knows what beside,
'T were hard to say who fared the best:
Sad mortals! thus the Gods still plague you!
He lost his labour, I my jest :
For he was drown'd, and I've the ague.
Ζώη μοῦ, σάς ἀγαπῶ. (1)
MAID of Athens, ere we part,
By those tresses unconfined,
(1) Zoë mou, sas agapo, or Zún poỡ, cás ayan☎, a Romaic expression of tenderness: if I translate it, I shall affront the gentlemen, as it may seem that I suppose they could not; and if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the latter I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned It means, My life, I love you!" which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were among the Roman ladies, whose exotic expressions were all Hellenized.
By those lids whose jetty fringe
By that lip I long to taste;
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR SONG,
Δεύτε παῖδες τῶν Ἑλλήνων,
WRITTEN BY RIGA, WHO PERISHED IN THE ATTEMPT TO REVOLUTIONIZE GREECE. FOLLOWING TRANSLATION IS AS LITERAL AS THE AUTHOR COULD MAKE IT IN VERSE; IT IS OF THE SAME MEASURE AS THAT OF THE ORIGINAL. SEE PAGE 52.
SONS of the Greeks, arise!
The glorious hour 's gone forth,
Sons of Greeks! let us go
In a river past our feet.
(1) In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, &c., convey the sentiments of the parties by that universal deputy of Mercury-an old woman. A cinder says, "I burn for thee a bunch of flowers tied with hair, "Take me and fly;" but a pebble declares-what nothing else can.