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277

XX. TO NAPLES.

Queen of the sunny South, in grace reclined
O'er thy voluptuous bath, and warmed for ever
By beams that make thy nerves in rapture shiver,
From yonder Syren Islands silver-shrined
Smiles, such as strike the loftier vision blind,
Beckoning to thee each morning shoot and quiver:
They sting the languor of thine amorous fever:
And Syren voices swell each passing wind.
But from the other coast, and yet more near,
The Sibyl's whisper, with that music bent,
Creeps slowly o'er the waters. Hear, O hear!
She speaks of buried cities, mountains rent;
Of Pleasure stifled in her mid career,
Fire-lifted isle, and fire-drowned continent!