Of smoke floats up the exulting winds before!
—And oh! the glorious burst of that bright sea and shore!
XXIII.
The rocks, waves, ramparts, Europe’s, Asia’s coast,
All throng’d! one theatre for kingly war!
A monarch, girt with his barbaric host,
Points o’er the beach his flashing scimitar!
Dark tribes are tossing javelins from afar,
Hands waving banners o’er each battlement,
Decks, with their serried guns, array’d to bar