"Fresh blew the wind, when o'er the Atlantic Main The ship went gliding with her thoughtless crew; And who among them but an Exile, freed From discontent, indifferent, pleased to sit Among the busily-employed, not more With obligation charged, with service taxed, 840 Than the loose pendant--to the idle wind Upon the tall mast streaming. But, ye Powers Of soul and sense mysteriously allied, O, never let the Wretched, if a choice Be left him, trust the freight of his distress 845 To a long voyage on the silent deep! For, like a plague, will memory break out; And, in the blank and solitude of things, Upon his spirit, with a fever's strength, Will conscience prey.--Feebly must they have felt 850 Who, in old time, attired with snakes and whips The vengeful Furies. _Beautiful_ regards Were turned on me--the face of her I loved; The Wife and Mother pitifully fixing Tender reproaches, insupportable! 855 Where now that boasted liberty? No welcome From unknown objects I received; and those, Known and familiar, which the vaulted sky Did, in the placid clearness of the night, Disclose, had accusations to prefer 860 Against my peace. Within the cabin stood That volume--as a compass for the soul-- Revered among the nations. I implored Its guidance; but the infallible support Of faith was wanting. Tell me, why refused 865 To One by storms annoyed and adverse winds; Perplexed with currents; of his weakness sick; Of vain endeavours tired; and by his own, And by his nature's, ignorance, dismayed! 869