ARNOLD'S DEPARTURE

With evil omens from the harbour sails

The ill-fated barque that worthless Arnold bears,—

God of the southern winds, call up the gales,

And whistle in rude fury round his ears.

With horrid waves insult his vessel's sides,

And may the east wind on a leeward shore

Her cables part while she in tumult rides,

And shatter into shivers every oar.

And let the north wind to her ruin haste,

With such a rage, as when from mountains high

He rends the tall oak with his weighty blast,

And ruin spreads where'er his forces fly.

May not one friendly star that night be seen;

No moon, attendant, dart one glimmering ray,

Nor may she ride on oceans more serene

Than Greece, triumphant, found that stormy day,

When angry Pallas spent her rage no more

On vanquished Ilium, then in ashes laid,

But turned it on the barque that Ajax bore,

Avenging thus her temple and the maid.