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All were winnowed through and through, Five lines lasted sound and true; Five were smelted in a pot Than the South more fierce and hot; These the siroc could not melt, Fire their fiercer flaming felt, And the meaning was more white Than July's meridian light. Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know. Have you eyes to find the five Which five hundred did survive?
These were wild and miserable thoughts, but I cannot describe to you how the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me and how I listened to every blast of wind as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its way to consume me. Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; I took no rest, but returned immediately to Geneva.
Musa loquitur. I hung my verses in the wind; Time and tide their faults may find. All were winnowed through and through; Five lines lasted sound and true; Five were smelted in a pot Than the South more fierce and hot. These the Siroc could not melt, Fire their fiercer flaming felt, And their meaning was more white Than July's meridian light.
As I could satisfy the Admiral on both those points, I despatched her immediately for Naples. We have now a fine Siroc wind, attended with all its usual close dampness; but, as it wafts us down the Mediterranean, we readily put up with its disagreeable attendants, without the risk of hanging ourselves. I intend to part with the Minotaur and Audacious to-day, agreeably to my orders.
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