Or fared she scudding under canvas-sail.Eke she defieth threat'ning Adrian shore,Dare not denay her, insular Cyclades,And noble Rhodos and ferocious Thrace,Propontis too and blustering Pontic bight.Where she (my Pinnace now) in times before,Was leafy woodling on Cytórean ChineFor ever loquent lisping with her leaves.Pontic Amastris! Box-tree-clad Cytórus!Cognisant were ye, and you weet full well(So saith my Pinnace) how from earliest ageUpon your highmost-spiring peak she stood,How in your waters first her sculls were dipt,And thence thro' many and many an important straitShe bore her owner whether left or right,Where breezes bade her fare, or Jupiter deigned At once propitious strike the sail full square;Nor to the sea-shore gods was aught of vowBy her deemed needful, when from Ocean's bourneExtreme she voyaged for this limpid lake.Yet were such things whilome: now she retiredIn quiet age devotes herself to thee