Exotic!--from the soil no tiller ploughs,
Save the rude surge;--fresh stripling from a grove
Above whose tops the wild sea-monsters rove,
--Have not the genii harbour’d in thy boughs,
Thou filmy piece of wonder!--have not those
Who still the tempest, for thy rescue strove,
And stranded thee thus fair, the might to prove
Of spirits, that the caves of ocean house?
How else, from capture of the giant-spray,
Hurt-free escapest thou, slight ocean-flower?
--As if Arachne wove, thus faultless lay
The full-develop’d forms of fairy-bower;
--Who that beholds thee thus, nor with dismay
Recalls thee struggling thro’ the storm’s dark hour![101]
[101] Poems and Translations from Schiller.
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