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IL PADRONE. THE WIND upon our quarter lies, | |
| And on before the freshening gale, | |
| That fills the snow-white lateen sail, | |
| Swiftly our light felucca flies. | |
| Around, the billows burst and foam; | 5 |
| They lift her o’er the sunken rock, | |
| They beat her sides with many a shock, | |
| And then upon their flowing dome | |
| They poise her, like a weathercock! | |
| Between us and the western skies | 10 |
| The hills of Corsica arise; | |
| Eastward, in yonder long blue line, | |
| The summits of the Apennine, | |
| And southward, and still far away, | |
| Salerno, on its sunny bay. | 15 |
| You cannot see it, where it lies. | |
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PRINCE HENRY. Ah, would that never more mine eyes | |
| Might see its towers by night or day! | |
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ELSIE. Behind us, dark and awfully, | |
| There comes a cloud out of the sea, | 20 |
| That bears the form of a hunted deer, | |
| With hide of brown, and hoofs of black, | |
| And antlers laid upon its back, | |
| And fleeing fast and wild with fear, | |
| As if the hounds were on its track! | 25 |
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PRINCE HENRY. Lo! while we gaze, it breaks and falls | |
| In shapeless masses, like the walls | |
| Of a burnt city. Broad and red | |
| The fires of the descending sun | |
| Glare through the windows, and o’erhead, | 30 |
| Athwart the vapors, dense and dun, | |
| Long shafts of silvery light arise, | |
| Like rafters that support the skies! | |
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ELSIE. See! from its summit the lurid levin | |
| Flashes downward without warning, | 35 |
| As Lucifer, son of the morning, | |
| Fell from the battlements of heaven! | |
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IL PADRONE. I must entreat you, friends, below! | |
| The angry storm begins to blow, | |
| For the weather changes with the moon. | 40 |
| All this morning, until noon, | |
| We had baffling winds, and sudden flaws | |
| Struck the sea with their cat’s-paws. | |
| Only a little hour ago | |
| I was whistling to Saint Antonio | 45 |
| For a capful of wind to fill our sail, | |
| And instead of a breeze he has sent a gale. | |
| Last night I saw Saint Elmo’s stars, | |
| With their glimmering lanterns, all at play | |
| On the tops of the masts and the tips of the spars, | 50 |
| And I knew we should have foul weather to-day. | |
| Cheerily, my hearties! yo heave ho! | |
| Brail up the mainsail, and let her go | |
| As the winds will and Saint Antonio! | |
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| Do you see that Livornese felucca, | 55 |
| That vessel to the windward yonder, | |
| Running with her gunwale under? | |
| I was looking when the wind o’ertook her. | |
| She had all sail set, and the only wonder | |
| Is that at once the strength of the blast | 60 |
| Did not carry away her mast. | |
| She is a galley of the Gran Duca, | |
| That, through the fear of the Algerines, | |
| Convoys those lazy brigantines, | |
| Laden with wine and oil from Lucca. | 65 |
| Now all is ready, high and low; | |
| Blow, blow, good Saint Antonio! | |
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| Ha! that is the first dash of the rain, | |
| With a sprinkle of spray above the rails, | |
| Just enough to moisten our sails, | 70 |
| And make them ready for the strain. | |
| See how she leaps, as the blasts o’ertake her, | |
| And speeds away with a bone in her mouth! | |
| Now keep her head toward the south, | |
| And there is no danger of bank or breaker. | 75 |
| With the breeze behind us, on we go; | |
| Not too much, good Saint Antonio! | |
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