The sea was pleased, and every smallest stone,
And every wave, was proud of thy caress.
XI.
A maiden diving, with dishevell'd hair,
Sheer from a rock; a syren of the deep
Call'd into action, ere a wave could leap
Breast-high to daunt her; Daphne, by a prayer,
Lured from a forest for the sea to bear—
This were a dream to fill a poet's sleep.
XII.