66 ckilde iiarold's pilgrimage.

XX.

Blow! swiftly blow, thou keel-compelling gale!Till the broad sun withdraws his lessening ray;Then must the pennant-bearer slacken sail.That lagging barks may make their lazy way.Ah! grievance sore, and listless dull delay,To waste on sluggish hulks the sweetest breeze!What leagues are lost before the dawn of day,Thus loitering pensive on the willing seas,The ilapping sail haul'd down to halt for logslike these!

XXI.

The moon is up; by Heaven a lovely eve!Long streams of light o’er dancing waves expand;Now lads on shore may sigh, and maids believe:Such be our fate when we return to land!Meantime some rude Arion’s restless handWakes the brisk harmony that sailors love;

A circle there of merry listeners stand ,

Or to some well-known measure fcatly move,Thoughtless, as if on shore they still were freeto rove.

XXIT.

Through Calpe’n straits survey the steepy shore;Europe and Afric ou each other gaze.

Lands of the dark-ey’d Maid and dusky MoorAlike beheld beneath pale Hecate’s blaze: