from Canto II

91

Now overhead a rainbow, bursting through
     The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea,
Resting its bright base on the quivering blue;
     And all within its arch appear’d to be
Clearer than that without, and its wide hue
     Wax’d broad and waving, like a banner free,
Then changed like to a bow that’s bent, and then
Forsook the dim eyes of these shipwreck’d men.

92

It changed, of course; a heavenly cameleon,
     The airy child of vapour and the sun,
Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermillion,
     Baptized in molten gold, and swathed in dun,
Glittering like crescents o’er a Turk’s pavilion,
     And blending every colour into one,
Just like a black eye in a recent scuffle,
(For sometimes we must box without the muffle).

93

Our shipwreck’d seamen thought it a good omen—
     It is as well to think so, now and then;
‘Twas an old custom of the Greek and Roman,
     And may become of great advantage when
Folks are discouraged; and most surely no men
     Had greater need to nerve themselves again
Than these, and so this rainbow look’d like hope—
Quite a celestial kaleidoscope.

94

About this time a beautiful white bird,
    Webfooted, not unlike a dove in size
And plumage, (probably it might have err’d
     Upon its course) pass’d oft before their eyes,
And tried to perch, although it saw and heard
     The men within the boat, and in this guise
It came and went, and flutter’d round them till
Night fell:—this seem’d a better omen still.

95

But in this case I also must remark,
     ‘Twas well this bird of promise did not perch,
Because the tackle of our shatter’d bark
    Was not so safe for roosting as a church;
And had it been the dove from Noah’s ark,
     Returning there from her successful search,
Which in their way that moment chanced to fall,
They would have eat her, olive-branch and all.

96

With twilight it again came on to blow,
     But not with violence; the stars shone out,
The boat made way; yet now they were so low,
     They knew not where nor what they were about;
Some fancied they saw land, and some said “No!”
     The frequent fog-banks gave them cause to doubt—
Some swore that they heard breakers, others guns,
And all mistook about the latter once.

97

As morning broke the light wind died away,
     When he who had the watch sung out and swore,
If ‘twas not land that rose with the sun’s ray
     He wish’d that land he never might see more;
And the rest rubb’d their eyes, and saw a bay,
     Or thought they saw, and shaped their course for shore;
For shore it was, and gradually grew
Distinct, and high, and palpable to view.

98

And then of these some part burst into tears,
     And others, looking with a stupid stare,
Could not yet separate their hopes from fears,
     And seem’d as if they had no further care;
While a few pray’d—(the first time for some years)—
     And at the bottom of the boat three were
Asleep; they shook them by the hand and head,
And tried to awaken them, but found them dead.

99

The day before, fast sleeping on the water,
     They found a turtle of the hawk’s-bill kind,
And by good fortune gliding softly, caught her,
     Which yielded a day’s life, and to their mind
Proved even still a more nutritious matter,
     Because it left encouragement behind:
They thought that in such perils, more than chance
Had sent them this for their deliverance.

100

The land appear’d a high and rocky coast,
     And higher grew the mountains as they drew,
Set by a current, toward it: they were lost
     In various conjectures, for none knew
To what part of the earth they had been tost,
     So changeable had been the winds that blew;
Some thought it was Mount Aetna, some the highlands
Of Candia, Cyprus, Rhodes, or other islands.