From Ramsgate to Antwerp

To the far English coast
I’ve said my goodbyes.
Its white cliffs are lost
at the brink of the skies.

Smile, waves! and gods, grant we’re p–
arked soon on the strand,
at anchor at Antwerp,
in Rubens’s land!

This lugger is pitching,
and rolling, and stinking.
I’m skulking, and retching:
yet of you, sir, I’m thinking!

By the past I’m inspired,
by verse, and your canvas;
my memory’s fired
by the marvels of Anvers.

They laughed and they shone,
those somnolent waves,
that in days dead and gone
you peopled with Loves.

A genius alone, you
disdained what was true,
put the seas of Ionia,
so bright and so blue.

In a gilded careen
she came alongside,
the darling Scots queen,
for the Dauphin, a bride.

A flower of learning,
a court of renown:
then England, returning
an axe for a crown.

At first her good fortune
survived every snare:
by courtiers of Neptune
the glass was set fair.

Your Tritons paunch–tumid,
your sea-nymphs well–stacked,
were lounging all humid
on dolphins round–backed.

The sea–god’s retainers
let the green frothing sea roll
to the Scheldt, for Silenus,
a very big barrel.

He honoured your Anvers
with liquors divine,
to her brewmaster’s ambers
gave courage of wine!

To the Flemish Kermesse
you brought down Olympus
in a golden calèche
on a heavenly nimbus.

Joy, love, and the revel,
more bitter than sweet:
twin crowns on the vessel,
the gods at their feet!

Farewell to past splendours
And pageant of years.
Great master of Flanders,
Your genius endures!