CLXXVII.

It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast, With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore, Guarded by shoals and rocks as by an host, With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore A better welcome to the tempest-tost; And rarely ceased the haughty billow's roar, Save on the dead long summer days, which make The outstretched Ocean glitter like a lake.

CLXXVIII.

And the small ripple spilt upon the beach Scarcely o'erpassed the cream of your champagne, When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, That spring-dew of the spirit! the heart's rain! Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please,--the more because they preach in vain,-- Let us have Wine and Woman,[161] Mirth and Laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after.