And now, for something completely different…
George Gordon, Lord Byron – Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, 1818
“Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean – roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin – his control
Stops with the shore; – upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man’s ravage, save his own,
When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknell’d, uncoffin’d and unknown.
And I have loved thee, Ocean! And my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wanton’d with thy breakers – they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror – ’twas a pleasing fear,
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane – as I do here.”
– Anarchist David.