VII.

Hush’d are the Pæans whose exulting tone Swell’d o’er that tide[13]--the sons of battle sleep-- The wind’s wild sigh, the halcyon’s voice alone Blend with the plaintive murmur of the deep. Yet when those waves have caught the splendid hues Of morn’s rich firmament, serenely bright, Or setting suns the lovely shore suffuse With all their purple mellowness of light, Oh! who could view the scene, so calmly fair, Nor dream that peace, and joy, and liberty were there?