Chapter I

Look from the prow of thine anchored bark-- Anchored by classic shore--and mark, Down fathoms-deep in the purple sea, How Time and the waters have dealt on me

Art lost in the moonless and starless night? Far-away looming, a light! a light! Fearlessly steer, for on me 'tis placed, To guide thy bark o'er the trackless waste

Earth knows me, too; and will heave and quake Where my subterranean course I take: And none so aghast at my ravages then, As they whose type was the Sire of men.

But not ever thus; at times I'm seen On the cheek or the neck of Beauty's queen; Or (to favoured mortal alone confest) Tinging the snow upon Beauty's breast.

So, whether above the waves, or below, Or beneath the Earth, or on breast of snow, Linked with the past, or alive to-day, Tell who I am--if tell ye may.