I know Cythera long is desolate; br I know the winds have stripp'd the gardens green. br Alas, my friends! beneath the fierce sun's weight br A barren reef lies where Love's flowers have been, br Nor ever lover on that coast is seen! br So be it, but we seek a fabled shore, br To lull our vague desires with mystic lore, br To wander where Love's labyrinths beguile; br There let us land, there dream for evermore: br 'It may be we shall touch the happy isle.' br br The sea may be our sepulchre. If Fate, br If tempests wreak their wrath on us, serene br We watch the bolt of heaven, and scorn the hate br Of angry gods that smite us in their spleen. br Perchance the jealous mists are but the screen br That veils the fairy coast we would explore. br Come, though the sea be vex'd, and breakers roar, br Come, for the air of this old world is vile, br Haste we, and toil, and faint not at the oar; br 'It may be we shall touch the happy isle.' br br Grey serpents trail in temples desecrate br Where Cypris smiled, the golden maid, the queen, br And ruined is the palace of our state; br But happy Loves flit round the mast, and keen br The shrill wind sings the silken cords between. br Heroes are we, with wearied hearts and sore, br Whose flower is faded and whose locks are hoar, br Yet haste, light skiffs, where myrtle thickets smile; br Love's panthers sleep 'mid roses, as of yore: br 'It may be we shall touch the happy isle!' br br ENVOY. br br Sad eyes! the blue sea laughs, as heretofore.