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proem.
Where thou, the daughter of a king,
Wail'st like a wind-harp's breaking string,
Bend'st like a weak and wilted flower
Before a summer evening's shower,—
There shouldst thou rear thy royal form,
Like a young oak amid the storm,
Uncrushed, unbowed, unriven!
Let thy last glance burn through the air,
And fall far down upon him there,
Like lightning-stroke from heaven!
There shouldst thou mark o'er billowy crest
His white sail flutter and depart,
No wild fears surging at thy breast,
No vain hopes quivering round thy heart;
And this brief, burning prayer alone
Leap from thy lips to Jove's high throne:—
"Just Jove! thy wrathful vengeance stay,
And speed the traitor on his way!
Make vain the Siren's silver song,
Let Nereids smile the wave along,—
O'er the wild waters send his bark
Like a swift arrow to its mark!
Let whirlwinds gather at his back,
And drive him on his dastard track!
Let thy red bolts behind him burn,
And blast him should he dare to turn!"
Wail'st like a wind-harp's breaking string,
Bend'st like a weak and wilted flower
Before a summer evening's shower,—
There shouldst thou rear thy royal form,
Like a young oak amid the storm,
Uncrushed, unbowed, unriven!
Let thy last glance burn through the air,
And fall far down upon him there,
Like lightning-stroke from heaven!
There shouldst thou mark o'er billowy crest
His white sail flutter and depart,
No wild fears surging at thy breast,
No vain hopes quivering round thy heart;
And this brief, burning prayer alone
Leap from thy lips to Jove's high throne:—
"Just Jove! thy wrathful vengeance stay,
And speed the traitor on his way!
Make vain the Siren's silver song,
Let Nereids smile the wave along,—
O'er the wild waters send his bark
Like a swift arrow to its mark!
Let whirlwinds gather at his back,
And drive him on his dastard track!
Let thy red bolts behind him burn,
And blast him should he dare to turn!"
