Mare Mediterraneum

A line of light! it is the inland sea,
The least in compass and the first in fame;
The gleaming of its waves recalls to me
Full many an ancient name.

As through my dreamland float the days of old,
The forms and features of their heroes shine:
I see Phoenician sailors bearing gold
From the Tartessian mine.

Seeking new worlds, storm-toss'd Ulysses ploughs
Remoter surges of the winding main;
And Grecian captains come to pay their vows,
Or gather up the slain.

I see the temples of the Violet Crown
Burn upward in the hour of glorious flight;
And mariners of uneclips'd renown,
Who won the great sea fight.

I hear the dashing of a thousand oars,
The angry waters take a deeper dye;
A thousand echoes vibrate from the shores
With Athens' battle-cry.

Again the Carthaginian rovers sweep,
With sword and commerce, on from shore to shore;
In visionary storms the breakers leap
Round Syrtes, as of yore.

Victory, sitting on the Seven Hills,
Had gain'd the world when she had master'd thee;
Thy bosom with the Roman war-note thrills,
Wave of the inland sea.

Then, singing as they sail in shining ships,
I see the monarch minstrels of Romance,
And hear their praises murmur'd through the lips
Of the fair dames of France.

Across the deep another music swells,
On Adrian bays a later splendor smiles;
Power hails the marble city where she dwells
Queen of a hundred isles.

Westward the galleys of the Crescent roam,
And meet the Pisan; challenge on the breeze,
Till the long Dorian palace lords the foam
With stalwart Genoese.

But the light fades; the vision wears away;
I see the mist above the dreary wave.
Blow, winds of Freedom, give another day
Of glory to the brave!