Couldst thou this vision have only imagined, What wouldst thou not give for it, My dearest friend! Thou who in head and loins art so weak, And so strong in thy faith, And the Trinity worship’st in Unity, And the dog and the cross and the paw Of thy lofty patroness daily kissest, And hast work’d thy way upward by canting As an Aulic Counsellor, Magistrate, And at last as a Government Counsellor In the pious town[25] Where flourish both sand and religion, And the patient water of sacred Spree Washes souls and dilutes the tea-- Couldst thou this vision have only imagined, My dearest friend! Thou hadst borne it up high, to the market-place, Thy countenance pallid and blinking Had been dissolved in devotion and lowliness, And her Serene Highness, Enchanted and trembling with rapture, Had with thee sunk in prayer on the knee, And her eyes, beaming brightly, Had promised, by way of increase of salary, A hundred Prussian dollars sterling, And thou, with folded hands, wouldst have stammer’d: “Praisèd be Jesus Christ!” PART II. 1826. 1. SEA SALUTATION. Thalatta! Thalatta! Hail to thee, O thou Ocean eterne! Hail to thee ten thousand times From hearts all exulting, As formerly hail’d thee Ten thousand Grecian hearts, Misfortune-contending, homeward-aspiring, World-renown’d Grecian hearts. The billows were heaving, They heaved and they bluster’d, The sun shed hastily downwards His light so sportive and rosy-hued; The sudden-startled flocks of sea-mews Flutter’d along, loud screaming, The horses were stamping, the bucklers were ringing, And afar there resounded triumphantly: Thalatta! Thalatta! Hail to thee, O thou Ocean eterne! Like voices of home thy waters are rushing, Like visions of childhood saw I a glimmering Over thy heaving billowy-realm, And olden remembrance again tells me stories Of all the darling, beautiful playthings, Of all the glittering Christmas presents, Of all the ruddy coral branches, The gold fish, pearls and colour’d shells Which thou mysteriously dost keep Down yonder in bright crystal house. O how have I languish’d in drear foreign lands! Like to a wither’d flower In the tin case of a botanist, Lay in my bosom my heart; Methought whole winters long I sat An invalid, in darksome sick-room, And now I suddenly leave it, And with dazzling rays am I greeted By emerald springtime, the sunny-awaken’d, And the snowy blossoming trees are all rustling, And the youthful flowers upon me gaze With eyes all chequer’d and fragrant; There’s a perfume and humming and breathing and laughing, And the birds in the azure heavens are singing-- Thalatta! Thalatta!