15
XI.
A turbid solitude succeeds, uncheer'd
By Fame's retiring trump, that loud no more,
But makes despair more joyless; as the roar
Of yon high-falling flood remotely heard,
Saddens the troubled stream, that groans below.
There, save that lonely skiff, no swelling sail
Leans her coy bosom from the wanton gale;
Lest with its eddying ebb her helpless prow
The refluent tide should seize, and drift above
To th' howling base of that pernicious steep,
Plunged in its whelming shower, who knows how deep?
Or whirl'd how long upon its watery wheel!
In the dark dungeon of that hideous cove;
Whence scarce the buoyant Muse retrieves her vent'rous keel.
By Fame's retiring trump, that loud no more,
But makes despair more joyless; as the roar
Of yon high-falling flood remotely heard,
Saddens the troubled stream, that groans below.
There, save that lonely skiff, no swelling sail
Leans her coy bosom from the wanton gale;
Lest with its eddying ebb her helpless prow
The refluent tide should seize, and drift above
To th' howling base of that pernicious steep,
Plunged in its whelming shower, who knows how deep?
Or whirl'd how long upon its watery wheel!
In the dark dungeon of that hideous cove;
Whence scarce the buoyant Muse retrieves her vent'rous keel.
