In a Bye Canal

Timoleon

A swoon of noon, a trance of tide,The hushed siesta brooding wideLike calms far off Peru;No floating wayfarer in sight,Dumb noon, and haunted like the nightWhen Jael the wiled one slew.A languid impulse from the oarPlied by my indolent gondolierTinkles against a palace hoar,And, hark, response I hear!A lattice clicks; and lo, I seeBetween the slats, mute summoning me,What loveliest eyes of scintillation,What basilisk glance of conjuration!Fronted I have, part taken the spanOf portents in nature and peril in man.I have swum-I have been’Twixt the whale’s black flukesand the white shark’s fin;The enemy’s desert have wandered in,And there have turned, have turned and scanned,Following me how noiselessly,Envy and Slander, lepers hand in hand.”Hey! Gondolier, you sleep, my man;Wake up!” And, shooting by, we ran;The while I mused, This, surely now,Confutes the Naturalists, allow!Sirens, waylayers in the sea.Well, wooed by these same deadly misses,Is it shame to run?No! flee them did divine Ulysses,Brave, wise, and Venus’ son.

l. 6: Jael. See Judges 4-5, where Jael murders Sisera, a Canaanite warlord and enemy of the tribe of Barak.

l. 14: basilisk. A mythical serpent which, according to some legends, can kill every living thing with a glance.