POLONIA. Grant me thy leave, great lord, since thou dost know A trumpet in my ear Sounds like a siren's voice, serene and clear; Ever to war inclined, In martial music my chief joy I find; Its clangour and its din Lead my rapt senses on: for I may win Through it my highest fame, When soaring to the sun on waves of flame, Or wings as swift, my proud name shall ascend, There it may be with Pallas to contend. [Aside. A stronger motive urges me to go: If it is Philip's ship I wish to know. [Exit. LEOGAIRE. Descend, my lord, with me Down where the foam-curled head of the blue sea Bows at the base of this majestic hill, Whose sands, like chains of gold, restrain its wilder will. CAPTAIN. Let it divert thy care, This snow-white monster fair, Whose waves of dazzling hue Shape silver frames round mirrors sapphire blue. KING. Nothing can give relief; Nothing can now divert me from my grief; That mystic fire will give my life no rest,-- My heart an Etna seems within my breast. LESBIA. Is any sight more fair? can aught surpass That of a vessel breaking through the glass Of crystal seas, and seeming there to be, As with light share it cuts the azure mass, A fish of the wind, a swift bird of the sea, And being for two elements designed, Flies in the wave and swims upon the wind? But now no witchery Were it to any eyes that sight to see; For lo! the roused-up ocean, Heaving with all its mountain waves in motion, Wrinkles its haughty brow, And suddenly awaking, Neptune, his trident shaking, Ruffles the beauteous face so sweet and calm but now. Well may the sailor in his floating home Expect a storm, for, lo! in heaven's high vault Rise pyramids of ice, mountains of salt, Turrets of snow, and palaces of foam. POLONIA returns. POLONIA. O dire misfortune! KING. What so suddenly Has chanced, Polonia? POLONIA. This inconstant sea, This Babel of wild waves that seeks heaven's gate, So great its fury, and its rage so great, Driven by a drought accursed, (Who would have thought that waves themselves could thirst?) Has swallowed in the depths of its dread womb, But now, a numerous company, to whom It consecrates below Red sepulchres of coral, tombs of snow, In silver-shining caves; For from their prison out o'er all the waves Has Aeolus the winds let loose, and they, Without a law to guide them on their way, Fell on that bark from which the trumpet rang, A swan whose own sad obsequies it sang. I from that cliff's stupendous height, Which dares to intercept the great sun's light, Looked full of hope along that vessel's track, To see if it was Philip who came back; Philip whose flag had borne upon the breeze Thy royal arms triumphant through the seas; When his sad wreck swept by, And every sound was buried in a sigh, His ruin seemed not wrought by seas or skies, But by my lips and eyes, Because my cries, the tears that made me blind, Increased still more the water and the wind.