Ay! we would each fain drive At random, and not steer by rule. Weakness! and worse, weakness bestow'd in vain 15 Winds from our side the unsuiting consort rive, We rush by coasts where we had lief remain; Man cannot, though he would, live chance's fool.
No! as the foaming swath Of torn-up water, on the main, 20 Falls heavily away with long-drawn roar On either side the black deep-furrow'd path Cut by an onward-labouring vessel's prore,° °23 And never touches the ship-side again;
Even so we leave behind, 25 As, charter'd by some unknown Powers We stem° across the sea of life by night °27 The joys which were not for our use design'd;-- The friends to whom we had no natural right, The homes that were not destined to be ours. 30
Yes°! in the sea of life enisled, °1 With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live _alone_. The islands feel the enclasping flow, 5 And then their endless bounds they know.
But when the moon° their hollows lights, °7 And they are swept by balms of spring, And in their glens, on starry nights, The nightingales divinely sing; 10 And lovely notes, from shore to shore, Across the sounds and channels pour--
Oh! then a longing like despair Is to their farthest caverns sent; For surely once, they feel, we were 15 Parts of a single continent! Now round us spreads the watery plain-- Oh might our marges meet again!
Who order'd, that their longing's fire Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd? 20 Who renders vain their deep desire?-- A God, a God their severance ruled! And bade betwixt their shores to be The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.° °24
What, Kaiser dead? The heavy news Post-haste to Cobham° calls the Muse, °2 From where in Farringford° she brews °3 The ode sublime, Or with Pen-bryn's bold bard° pursues °5 A rival rhyme.
Kai's bracelet tail, Kai's busy feet, Were known to all the village-street. "What, poor Kai dead?" say all I meet; "A loss indeed!" 10 O for the croon pathetic, sweet, Of Robin's reed°! °12
Six years ago I brought him down, A baby dog, from London town; Round his small throat of black and brown 15 A ribbon blue, And vouch'd by glorious renown A dachshound true.
His mother, most majestic dame, Of blood-unmix'd, from Potsdam° came; °20 And Kaiser's race we deem'd the same-- No lineage higher. And so he bore the imperial name. But ah, his sire!