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