This page has been validated.
THE ISLAND.
CANTO THE FIRST.
I.
Her course, and gently made her liquid way;[1]
The cloven billow flashed from off her prow
In furrows formed by that majestic plough;
The waters with their world were all before;
Behind, the South Sea's many an islet shore.
The quiet night, now dappling, 'gan to wane,
Dividing darkness from the dawning main;
The dolphins, not unconscious of the day,
Swam high, as eager of the coming ray;10
The stars from broader beams began to creep,
And lift their shining eyelids from the deep;[2]
The sail resumed its lately shadowed white,
And the wind fluttered with a freshening flight;
The purpling Ocean owns the coming Sun,
But ere he break—a deed is to be done.
II.
Secure in those by whom the watch was kept: