O Lesbian! if thy faith were mine,
Then might I in that summer sea
Seek for a slumber sound as thine,
Beneath thy rock of Leucady.
But though the waves, with d**h's control,
Might still the fever in each vein,
Alas! they cannot drown my soul,
The citadel of all my pain.
This weary, wretched, restless strife
I cannot bear—I cannot flee;—
'Tis more than d**h—'tis all of life—
And parcel of Eternity.