Aloof to sea the stately ship they tow;
The nervous crew their sweeping oars extend,
And pealing shouts the shore of Candia rend:
Success attends their skill! the danger’s o’er:
The port is doubled, and beheld no more.
Now morn with gradual pace advanced on high,
Whitening with orient beam the twilight sky:
She comes not in refulgent pomp arrayed,
But frowning stern, and wrapt in sullen shade.
Above incumbent mists, tall Ida’s height,