Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider. Welcome to
their roar!
Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead!
Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed,
And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale,
Still must I on; for I am as a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, canto III, Lord Byron
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