And voiced my rapture in the boisterous night,
Striking the lurking coastguard with affright.
Now on my barque—ah, no! no barque be mine!
On the new packet of the Angler Line,
I learn, too late, when fairly out at sea,
How well they speak who speak not well of thee
Implacable, inscrutable Emirs
Mock not the captured foe of bloodstained years
As thou hast mock'd one who ne'er did thee wrong,
Save in the venial fault of unexpressive song.