Over the long, long waves, or pickThe flowers in blow?O, were that monster made my prize,How would I strive to wound that brow,How tear those horns, my frantic eyesAdored but now!Shameless I left my father's home;Shameless I cheat the expectant grave;O heaven, that naked I might roamIn lions' cave!Now, ere decay my bloom devourOr thin the richness of my blood,Fain would I fall in youth's first flower,The tigers' food.Hark! 'tis my father—‘Worthless one!What, yet alive? the oak is nigh.'Twas well you kept your maiden zone,The noose to tie.Or if your choice be that rude pike,New barb'd with death, leap down and ask