Plebeian as patrician, cheer’d us on
With dazzling smiles, and wishes audible,
And waving kerchiefs, and applauding hands,
Even to the goal!—How many times have I
Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring,
The waves all roughen’d; with a swimmer’s stroke
Flinging the billows back from my drench’d hair.
And laughing from my lips the audacious brine,
Which kiss’d it like a wine-cup, rising o’er
The waves as they arose, and prouder still