Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed--in breeze, or gale, or storm-- Icing the Pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving--boundless, endless, and sublime-- The image of Eternity-the throne[qj] Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime[551] The monsters of the deep are made--each Zone Obeys thee--thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. CLXXXIV. And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy[552] I wantoned with thy breakers--they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror--'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a Child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.[553] CLXXXV. My task is done--my song hath ceased--my theme Has died into an echo; it is fit[qk] The spell should break of this protracted dream. The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit My midnight lamp--and what is writ, is writ,-- Would it were worthier! but I am not now That which I have been--and my visions flit Less palpably before me--and the glow Which in my Spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint, and low. CLXXXVI. Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been-- A sound which makes us linger;--yet--farewell![ql] Ye! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene[qm] Which is his last--if in your memories dwell A thought which once was his--if on ye swell A single recollection--not in vain He wore his sandal-shoon, and scallop-shell; Farewell! with _him_ alone may rest the pain, If such there were--with _you_, the Moral of his Strain.[554] FOOTNOTES: [363] {319} _MS. D._, Byron's final fair copy, is in the possession of the Lady Dorchester. [364] {321} [Compare Canto IV. stanza clxiv.-- "But where is he, the Pilgrim of my Song.... He is no more--these breathings are his last."] [365] {322} [His marriage. Compare the epigram, "On my Wedding-Day," sent in a letter to Moore, January 2, 1820-- "Here's a happy new year!--but with reason I beg you'll permit me to say-- Wish me _many_ returns of the _season_, But as _few_ as you please of the _day_."] [366] {323} [Some fancy me no Chinese, because I am formed more like a man than a monster; and others wonder to find one born five thousand miles from England, endued with common sense.... He must be some Englishman in disguise."--_The Citizen of the World; or a Series of Letters from a Chinese Philosopher at London, to his Friends in the East_, 1762, Letter xxxiii.] [367] [_Vide ante_, Introduction to Canto IV., p. 315.]