George Gordon, Lord Byron Written After Swimming from Sestos to Abydos                                 1 IF, in the month of dark December,           Leander, who was nightly wont (What maid will not the a remember?)           To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont!                                 2 If, when the wintry tempest roar'd,           He sped to Hero, nothing loth, And thus of old thy current pour'd,           Fair Venus! how I pity both!                                 3 For me, degenerate modern wretch           Though in the genial month of May, My dripping limbs I faintly stretch,           And think I've done a feat today.                                 4 But since he cross'd the rapid tide,           According to the doubtful story, To woo, - and - Lord knows what be-side           And swam for Love, as I for Glory;                                 5 'Twere hard to say who fared the best:           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. 1810