4.
"Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,al I fear not wave nor wind: Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I Am sorrowful in mind;37 For I have from my father gone, A mother whom I love, And have no friend, save these alone, But thee—and One above.
5.
'My father blessed me fervently,
Yet did not much complain;
But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again.'—
"Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,
Mine own would not be dry.
6.
"Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman,38 Why dost thou look so pale? Or dost thou dread a French foeman? Or shiver at the gale?"— 'Deem'st thou I tremble for my life? Sir Childe, I'm not so weak; But thinking on an absent wife Will blanch a faithful cheek.
7.
'My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,
Along the bordering Lake,
And when they on their father call,
What answer shall she make?'—
"Enough, enough, my yeoman good,am Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood, Will laugh to flee away.
8.
"For who would trust the seeming sighsan Of wife or paramour? Fresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes We late saw streaming o'er. For pleasures past I do not grieve, Nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave No thing that claims a tear.39
9.
"And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea:
But why should I for others groan,
When none will sigh for me?
Perchance my Dog will whine in vain,
Till fed by stranger hands;
But long ere I come back again,
He'd tear me where he stands.ao40
10.
"With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine;
Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves!
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves!
My native Land—Good Night!"
XIV.
On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,
And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay.
Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,
New shores descried make every bosom gay;
And Cintra's mountain41 greets them on their way, And Tagus dashing onward to the Deep, His fabled golden tribute42 bent to pay; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap, And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.ap
XV.
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!aq What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand! But man would mar them with an impious hand: And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge 'Gainst those who most transgress his high command, With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge Gaul's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purgear
XVI.
What beauties doth Lisboa43 first unfold!as Her image floating on that noble tide, Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,at But now whereon a thousand keels did ride Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied, And to the Lusians did her aid afford: A nation swoln with ignorance and pride,44 Who lick yet loathe the hand that waves the swordau To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.
XVII.
But whoso entereth within this town,
That, sheening far, celestial seems to be,
Disconsolate will wander up and down,
'Mid many things unsightly to strange ee;av For hut and palace show like filthily:aw The dingy denizens are reared in dirt;ax Ne personage of high or mean degree Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt, Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwashed, unhurt.
XVIII.
Poor, paltry slaves! yet born 'midst noblest scenes—
