Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179.
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,—
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.[547:3]
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 182.
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 183.
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