Lord Byron (1788–1824). Poetry of Byron. 1881.
IV. SatiricWritten after Swimming from Sestos to Abydos
I
Leander, who was nightly wont
(What maid will not the tale remember?)
To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont!
He sped to Hero, nothing loth, And thus of old thy current pour’d, Fair Venus! how I pity both! Though in the genial month of May, My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, And think I’ve done a feat to-day. According to the doubtful story, To woo,—and—Lord knows what beside, And swam for Love, as I for Glory; Sad mortals! thus the Gods still plague you! He lost his labour, I my jest: For he was drown’d, and I’ve the ague.