?9 ■-. +*o < ■' tt **. *«w\**> ^°*. . ^ v .»j^»r* "^ V ** ^ • <> *^t;«* .o 1 O^ *o ♦ •^ .■a ^ssfeX'^y v'- m. %s .-ate-. \/ .-M&-. **„*< o_ *> ;♦ «r 4^ . ° 0i >v : £*<% V - <* *'V..* .0 £ .in . *«» ^ 4V^. ^. A * .*■ ^** w : ^£ SONGS OP THE SEA, OTHER POEMS. SONGS OF THE SEA, OTHER POEMS, EPES SARGENT. SECOND EDITION. Boston: WILLIAM D. TICKNOR & COMPANY, MDCCCXLIX. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1847, by James Munboe and Company, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. PREFACE. Several of the following poems, and among them the ballad of " Adelaide's Triumph." are now for the first time published. Others have appeared in different periodicals, with which the writer has been connected during the last ten years, and have met with a kind reception from the public. How far any of them may be deemed worthy of preservation, will be solved, probably, by the fate of this edition, which has been carefully revised, and contains the first and only complete and authorized collection of the writer's poetical pieces. CONTENTS. SONGS OF THE SEA. PAGE. The Light of the Lighthouse, 11 Shells and Seaweeds,, 23 I. The Departure. — II. The Awakening. — III. T joyful heart, exult not so ! Mistrust that prospect fair; It is the lure of death and woe, The ambush of despair ! That night the storm, in wild array, Clove through the billows dark, And, in a cloud of foam and spray, Rushed on the fated bark. IX. " The morning's dim, unconscious smile, That hushed the raging blast, Disclosed upon that rock-bound isle Two forms the surge had cast. There, folded to the father's breast, His youngest daughter lay ; They are but two — where be the rest? Ye ruthless billows, say! 16 THE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. "Alas for him! From death-like sleep, When memory was recalled, He could not groan — he could not weep His reason was appalled! A grief, that blanched his sun-burnt face, Thenceforth upon him grew — A grief that time could not erase, And hope could not subdue. XI. " And when, at length, on yonder spot, Was reared the lighthouse spire, To him was given the lonely lot To tend the beacon fire. There, from the busy world apart, Its clamor and its care, He lives, with but one human heart His solitude to share. THE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. 17 XII. '- But O, Aurora's crimson light, That makes the watch-fire dim, Is not a more transporting sight Than Ellen is to him! He pineth not for fields and brooks, Wild-flowers and singing birds, For Summer smileth in her looks, And singeth in her words. XIII. " A fairy thing, not five years old, So full of joy and grace, It is a rapture to behold The beauty of her face ! And O, to hear her happy voice, Her laughter ringing free, Would make the gloomiest heart rejoice, And turn despair to glee! 2 18 THE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. XIV. " The ocean's blue is in her eyes, Its coral in her lips; And, in her cheek, the mingled dyes, No sea-shell could eclipse! And, as she climbs the weedy rocks, And in the sunshine plays, The wind that lifts her golden locks Seems more to love their rays. XV. "When the smoothed ocean sleeps unstirred, And, like a silver band, The molten waters circling gird The island's rim of sand, She runs her tiny feet to lave, And breaks the liquid chain; Then laughs to feel the shivered wave Coil down to rest again. THE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. 19 XVI. "And, when the black squall rends the deep, The tempest-cradled maid, To see the white gulls o'er her sweep, Mounts to the balustrade : Above her head and round about, They stoop without alarm, And seem to flout her threatening shout, And her up-stretching arm. XVII. " Once, Francis sought the neighboring town, And she was left alone; When such a furious storm came down As never had been known. ' My child ! ' the wretched parent cried ; ' O friends, withhold me not ! The bravest man, in such a tide, Would quail on that bleak spot.' 20 THE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. XVIII. " He strove, till faint and out of breath, His fragile boat to gain; But all knew it was certain death To tempt the hurricane: And wilder grew the tempest's power, And doubly black the night, When, lo! at the appointed hour, Blazed forth that beacon-light! XIX. "The sea-fog, like a fallen cloud, Rolled in and dimmed its fire; Roared the gale louder and more loud, And sprang the billows higher! Above the gale that wailed and rang, — Above the booming swell, With steady and sonorous clang, Pealed forth the lighthouse bell! THE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. 21 XX. "Warned by the sound, ships inward bound Again the offing tried; And soon the baffled Tempest found His anger was defied: The billows fell, the winds, rebuked, Crept to their caverns back; And placidly the day-star looked Out from the cloudy rack. XXI. "Bright through the window-panes it smiled Upon the little bed, Where, wrapped in slumber deep and mild, Ellen reposed her head. Her friends, her father seek the place; Good saints have watched her charms ! Her blue eyes open on his face, And she is in his arms ! " 22 THE LIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. XXII. The voice was mute, the tale was told ; Sacred be my reply ! Along the wide sea-beach we strolled, That ladye faire and I. Blessed, ever blessed and unforgot, Be that sweet summer night! And blessings on that wave-girt spot, The lighthouse and the light ! SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. RECORDS OF A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA THE DEPARTURE. Again thy winds are pealing in mine ear ; Again thy waves are flashing in my sight ; Thy memory-haunting tones again I hear, As through the spray our vessel wings her flight. On thy cerulean breast, now swelling high, Again, thou broad Atlantic, am I cast. Six years, with gathering speed, have glided by, Since, an adventurous boy, I hailed thee last. The sea-birds o'er me wheel, as if to greet An old companion; on my naked brow The sparkling foam-drops not unkindly beat; Flows thro' my hair the freshening breeze : and now The horizon's ring enclasps me; and I stand Gazing where fades from view, cloud-like, my father- land. 24 SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. II. THE AWAKENING. How changed the scene ! Our parting gaze, last night, Was on the three-hilled city's swelling dome, — The dome o'erlooking from its stately height Full many a sacred spire and happy home. Rose over all, clouding the azure air, A canopy of smoke, swart Labor's sign; While like a forest Winter has stripped bare, Bristled the masts along the water's line. But now the unbroken ocean and the sky Seem to enclose us in a crystal sphere ; A new creation fills the straining eye; No bark save ours — no human trace is here! But, in the brightening east, a crimson haze Floats up before the sun, his incense fresh of praise. A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA 25 III THE GALE. The night came robed in terror. Through the air Mountains of clouds, with lurid summits, rolled, — The lightning kindling with its vivid glare Their outlines, as they rose heaped fold on fold. The wind, in fitful soughs, swept o'er the sea; And then a sudden lull, serene as sleep, Soft as an infant's breathing, seemed to be Cast, like enchantment, on the throbbing deep. But false the calm ! for soon the strengthened gale Burst in one loud explosion, far and wide, Drowning the thunder's voice ! With every sail Close-reefed, our groaning ship heeled on her side ; The torn waves combed the deck ; while, o'er the mast, The meteors of the storm a ghastly radiance cast. 26 SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. IV. MORNING AFTER THE GALE. Bravely our trim ship rode the tempest through; And when the exhausted gale had ceased to rave, How broke the day-star on the gazer's view ! How flushed the orient every crested wave ! The sun threw down his shield of golden light In proud defiance on the ocean's bed ; Whereat the clouds betook themselves to flight, Like routed hosts, with banners soiled and red. The sky was soon all brilliance, east and west; All traces of the gale had passed away ; The chiming billows, by the breeze caressed, Shook lightly from their heads the feathery spray. Ah! thus may Hope's auspicious star relume The sorrow-clouded soul, and end its hour of gloom ! A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA. 27 V. TO A LAND BIRD. Thou wanderer from green fields and leafy nooks ! Where blooms the flower and toils the honey-bee, — Where odorous blossoms drift along the brooks, And woods and hills are very fair to see, — Why hast thou left thy native bough to roam, With drooping wing, far o'er the briny billow ? Thou canst not, like the ospray, cleave the foam, Nor like the petrel make the wave thy pillow. Thou'rt like those fine-toned spirits, gentle bird, Which from some better land to this rude life Seem borne. They struggle, 'mid the common herd, With powers unfitted for the selfish strife : Haply, at length, some zephyr wafts them back To their own home of peace, across the world's dull track. 28 SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. VI. A THOUGHT OF THE PAST. I waked from slumber at the dead of night, Moved by a dream too heavenly fair to last — A dream of boyhood's season of delight ; It flashed along the dim shapes of the past ; And, as I mused upon its strange appeal, Thrilling me with emotions undefined, Old memories, bursting from Time's icy seal, Rushed, like sun-stricken fountains, on my mind. Scenes where my lot was cast in life's young day ; My favorite haunts, the shores, the ancient woods, Where, with my schoolmates, I was wont to stray; Green, sloping lawns, majestic solitudes — All rose to view, more beautiful than then ; — They faded, and I wept — a child indeed again ! A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA. 29 VII. TROPICAL WEATHER. Now we're afloat upon the tropic sea: Here Summer holdeth a perpetual reign. How flash the waters in their bounding glee ! The sky's soft purple is without a stain. Full in our wake the smooth, warm trade-winds, blowing, To their unvarying goal still faithful run; And, as we steer, with sails before them flowing, Nearer the zenith daily climbs the sun. The startled flying-fish around us skim, Glossed like the humming-bird, with rainbow dyes ; And, as they dip into the water's brim, Swift in pursuit the preying dolphin hies. All, all is fair; and gazing round, we feel Over the yielding sense the torrid languor steal. 30 SHELLS A3D SEAWEEDS. VIII. A CALM. O for one draught of cooling northern air ! That it might pour its freshness on me now; That it might kiss my cheek and cleave my hair, And part its currents round my fevered brow! Ocean, and sky, and earth — a blistering calm Spread over all ! How weary wears the day ! O, lift the wave, and bend the distant palm, Breeze ! wheresoe'er thy lagging pinions stay ! Triumphant burst upon the level deep, Rock the fixed hull and stretch the clinging sail ! Arouse the opal clouds that o'er us sleep ! Sound thy shrill whistle ! we will bid thee hail ! Though wrapped in all the storm-clouds of the North, Yet, from thy home of ice, come forth, O breeze, come forth! A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA. 31 IX. A WISH. That I were in some forest's green retreat ! Beneath a towering arch of proud old elms ; Where a clear streamlet gurgled at my feet — Its wavelets glittering in their tiny helms ! Thick clustering vines in many a rich festoon From the high, rustling branches should depend ; Weaving a net, through which the sultry Noon Might stoop in vain its fiery beams to send. There, prostrate on some rock's gray sloping side, Upon whose tinted moss the dew yet lay, Would I catch glimpses of the clouds that ride, Athwart the sky — and dream the hours away; While through the alleys of the sunless wood The fanning breeze might steal, with wild-flowers' breath imbued. 32 SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. TROPICAL NIGHT. But O! the night — the cool, luxurious night, Which closes round us when the day grows dim, And the sun sinks from his meridian height Behind the ocean's occidental rim ! Clouds in thin streaks of purple, green and red, Lattice his dying glory, and absorb — Hung o'er his couch — the rallying lustre shed, Like love's last tender glances, from his orb. And now the moon, her lids unclosing, deigns To smile serenely on the charmed sea, That shines as if inlaid with lightning-chains, From which it faintly struggled to be free. Swan-like, with motion unperceived, we glide, Touched by the downy breeze, and favored by the tide. A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA. XI THE PLANET JUPITER. Ever at night have I looked up for thee, O'er thy sidereal sisterhood supreme ! Ever at night have scanned the purple sea For the reflection of thy quivering beam ! When the white cloud thy diamond radiance screened, And the Bahama breeze began to wail, How on the plunging bows for hours I've leaned, And watched the gradual lifting of thy veil ! Bright planet! lustrous effluence! thou ray From the Eternal Source of life and light ! Gleam on the track where Truth shall lead the way, And gild the inward as the outward night! Shine but as now upon my dying eyes, And Hope, from earth to thee, from thee to Heaven, shall rise ! 3 34 SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. XII. TO EGERIA. The flying wave reflects thy angel face, But soon the liquid mirror breaks in foam; The severing cloud reveals thy form of grace, And then thou'rt standing in thy fittest home; A drifted vapor hides thy maiden shape — Ocean and sky are all the gazer sees ; But, while he murmurs at thy swift escape, He starts to hear thy whisper in the breeze. Capricious phantom! why within my heart Create the void of beauty and of love ? A spirit tells me, coy one, who thou art, — Heard in the gale, or shadowed forth above — The bright prefigurement of her who waits, With snow-white veil and wreath, beside the Future' I A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA. 35 XIII. CUBA. What sounds arouse me from my slumbers light? " Land ho! all hands, ahoy!" — I'm on the deck 'Tis early dawn : the day-star yet is bright ; A few white vapory bars the zenith fleck ; And lo ! along the horizon, bold and high, The purple hills of Cuba ! Hail, all hail ! Isle of undying verdure, with thy sky Of purest azure ! Welcome, odorous gale ! O, scene of life and joy ! thou art arrayed In hues of unimagined loveliness. Sing louder, brave old mariner ! and aid JVIy swelling heart its rapture to express; For, from enchanted memory, never more Shall fade this dawn sublime, this fair, resplendent shore. 30 SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. XIV. THE SEA-BREEZE AT MATANZAS. After a night of languor without rest, — Striving to sleep, yet wishing morn might come, By the pent, scorching atmosphere oppressed, Impatient of the vile mosquito's hum, — With what reviving freshness from the sea, Its airy plumage glittering with the spray, Comes the strong day-breeze, rushing joyously Into the bright arms of the encircling bay ! It tempers the keen ardor of the sun ; The drooping frame with life renewed it fills; It lashes the green waters as they run ; It sways the graceful palm-tree on the hills ; It breathes of ocean solitudes, and caves, Luminous, vast, and cool, far down beneath the waves. A SUMMER VOYAGE TO CUBA. 37 XV. MIDSUMMER RAINS. The morning here, how beautiful and bright! Look forth, and not a cloud-flake may be seen ; But, ere the sun has reached his noonday height, Up from the horizon slides a vapory screen ; And now the firmament is all o'ercast : Peals the hoarse thunder with stupendous roar; The rain, a crushing torrent, lays the blast, Foams on the wave, and hides the adjoining shore. But, with a breath, it pauses; and a ray Cleaves the huge keystone of the arch of gloom ; The shower attenuates to a filmy spray, Bright rolls the sea again — the earth is bloom; And, while the sun pours down a fiercer blaze, The moisture reascends fast on his flaming rays. 38 SHELLS AND SEAWEEDS. XVI. WEIGHING ANCHOR. Like sweetest music are those cries that tell Of weighing anchor ; — ay, we're homeward bound ! Ye orange groves and coffee walks, farewell ! Farewell, thou fire-scooped summit, forest-crowned ! Ah, bright thy shores and bountiful thy fruits, Cuba ! and heaped with green thy river-banks ; But here the noontide Pestilence recruits (Stern minister !) Death's ever-gathering ranks. And so, e'en while thy gales are breathing balm, And thy rich growth our soil reluctant mocks, O, give me back the cedar for the palm! The cedar on its brown hills, ribbed with rocks ! 'Tis Freedom's emblem ; and on Freedom's shore It stands — though rough without, all fragrance at the core! 39 THE MISSING SHIP 1841. God speed the noble President ! A gallant boat is she, As ever entered harbor, Or crossed a stormy sea. Like some majestic castle She towers upon the stream; The good ships moored beside her Like pigmy shallops seem. How will her mighty bulwarks The leaping surges brave ! How will her iron sinews Make way 'gainst wind and wave! 40 THE MISSING SHIP. Farewell, thou stately vessel I Ye voyagers, farewell ! Securely on that deck shall ye The tempest's shock repel. The stately vessel left us, In all her bold array ; — A glorious sight, O landsmen, As she glided down our bay ! Her flags were waving joyfully, And from her ribs of oak, "Farewell!" to all the city Her guns in thunder spoke. Flee, on thy vapory pinions! Back, back to England flee; Where patient watchers by the strand Have waited long for thee; Where kindred hearts are beating To welcome home thy crew, And tearful eyes gaze constantly Across the waters blue! THE MISSING SHIP. 41 Alas, ye watchers by the strand, Weeks, months have rolled away, But where, where is the President? And why is this delay 1 Return, pale mourners, to your homes ! Ye gaze, and gaze in vain ; O, never shall that pennoned mast Salute your eyes again ! And now your hopes, like morning stars, Have one by one gone out; And stern Despair subdues at length The agony of doubt ; But still Affection lifts the torch By night along the shore, And lingers by the surf-beat rocks, To marvel, to deplore. In dreams, I see the fated ship Torn by the northern blast; About her tempest-riven track The white fog gathers fast; 42 THE MISSING SHIP. When, lo! above the swathing mist, Their heads the icebergs lift, In lucent grandeur to the clouds — Vast continents adrift! One mingled shriek of awe goes up, At that stupendous sight : Now, helmsman, for a hundred lives, O, guide the helm aright! Vain prayer ! she strikes ! and, thundering down, The avalanches fall ! Crushed, whelmed, the stately vessel sinks — The cold sea covers all ! Anon, unresting Fancy holds A direr scene to view, — The burning ship, the fragile raft, The pale and dying crew. Ah me ! was such their maddening fate Upon the billowy brine? Give up, remorseless Ocean, A relic and a sign ! THE MISSING SHIP. 43 No answer cometh from the deep, To tell the tale we dread; No messenger of weal or woe Returneth from the defad ; But Faith looks up through tears, and sees, From earthly haven driven, Those lost ones meet in fairer realms, Where storms reach not — in Heaven. 44 ROCKALL Rockall is a solid block of granite, growing, as it were, out of the sea, at a greater distance from the main land, probably, than any other island or rock of the same di- minutive size in the world. It is only seventy feet high, and not more than a hundred yards in circumference. It lies at a distance of no fewer than one hundred and eighty- four miles nearly due west of St. Kilda, the remotest part of the Hebrides, and is two hundred and sixty miles from the north of Ireland. Pale ocean rock! that, like a phantom shape, Or some mysterious spirit's tenement, Risest amid this weltering waste of waves, Lonely and desolate, thy spreading base Is planted in the sea's unmeasured depths, Where rolls the huge leviathan o'er sands Glistening with shipwrecked treasures. The strong wind Flings up thy sides a veil of feathery spray ROCKALL. 45 With sunbeams interwoven, and the hues Which mingle in the rainbow. From thy top The sea-birds rise, and sweep with sidelong flight Downward upon their prey ; or, with poised wings, Skim to the horizon o'er the glittering deep. Our bark, careening to the welcome breeze, With white sails filled and streamers all afloat, Shakes from her dipping prow the foam, while we Gaze on thy outline mingling in the void, And draw our breath like men who see, amazed, Some mighty pageant passing. What had been Our fate last night, if, when the aspiring waves Were toppling o'er our mainmast, and the stars Were shrouded in black vapors, we had struck Full on thy sea-bound pinnacles, Rock all ! But now another prospect greets our sight, And hope elate is rising with our hearts : Intensely blue, the sky's resplendent arch Bends over all serenely ; not a cloud Mars its pure radiance; not a shadow dims The flashing billows. The refreshing air It is a luxury to feel and breathe; 46 ROCKALL. The senses are made keener, and drink in The life, the joy, the beauty of the scene. Repeller of the wild and thundering surge ! For ages has the baffled tempest howled By thee with all its fury, and piled up The massive waters like a falling tower To dash thee down ; but there thou risest yet, As calm amid the roar of storms, the shock Of waves uptorn, and hurled against thy front, As when, on summer eves, the crimsoned main, In lingering undulations, girds thee round ! O, might I stand as steadfast and as free 'Mid the fierce strife and tumult of the world, The crush of all the elements of woe, — Unshaken by their terrors, looking forth With placid eye on life's uncertain sea, Whether its waves were darkly swelling high Or dancing in the sunshine, — then might frown The clouds of fate around me ! Firm in faith, Pointing serenely to that better world, Where there is peace, would I abide the storm, Unmindful of its rage and of its end. 47 THE HURRICANE'S AMBUSCADE. Look upon those clouds that lie Pillowed on the light blue sky, So translucent and serene, That they hardly dim its sheen : Look upon the glittering deep, Which the fiery sunbeams steep, Scattering on its purple floor Amethysts and golden ore ! Yet the Spirit of the storm Masks his elemental form Under this celestial smile, Nature putteth on the while; 48 the hurricane's ambuscade. And the day shall not be ended, Ere, with all his hosts attended, We shall see the Hurricane Ride upon this billowy plain. Heralds of his coming swift, O'er us blackest clouds shall drift; And each foaming wave below Seem a pall half-merged in snow; Then the loosened gale shall break, Scooping mountains for his wake, And, with island-shaking roar, Drive whole argosies ashore. But we'll put our ship in trim, And await this tempest grim, Trusting not those tints of rose, Lured not by this smooth repose : Then, if comes the ambushed gale, And his vassal waves prevail, Foundered, wrecked, or tempest-driven, Still we shall have nobly striven. THE HURRICANE'S AMBUSCADE. 49 Ah! thou voyager, afloat On life's sea, in painted boat, Crystal skies above thee bend, On thee prosperous airs attend; But, when fortune seems securest, Then of stealthy change be surest; And, with spirit bold and steady, For the sudden storm be ready. From the earth those vapors mount, And its moisture is their fount; But above them, ever clear, Shines the starry hemisphere : This world's sorrows, this world's sighs, "Weave the clouds o'er life that rise ; But, eternally above, Gleams the perfect light of love. 4 50 A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE, SET TO MUSIC BY HENRY RUSSELL. A life on the ocean wave, A home on the rolling deep; Where the scattered waters rave, And the winds their revels keep ! Like an eagle caged, I pine On this dull, unchanging shore : O ! give me the flashing brine, The spray and the tempest's roar ! Once more on the deck I stand, Of my own swift-gliding craft : Set sail ! farewell to the land ! The gale follows fair abaft. A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE. 51 We shoot through the sparkling foam Like an ocean-bird set free ; — Like the ocean-bird, our home We'll find far out on the sea. The land is no longer in view, The clouds have begun to frown; But with a stout vessel and crew, We'll say, Let the storm come down ! And the song of our hearts shall be, While the winds and the waters rave, A home on the rolling sea ! A life on the ocean wave! 52 MIDSUMMER IN THE CITY O RUS, QUANDO TE ASPICIAM ? I. O, ye keen breezes from the salt Atlantic, Which to the beach, where memory loves to wander, On your strong pinions waft reviving coolness, Bend your course hither! II. For, in the surf ye scattered to the sunshine, Did we not sport together in my boyhood, Screaming for joy amid the flashing breakers, O rude companions? MIDSUMMER IN THE CITY. 53 III. Then to the meadows beautiful and fragrant, Where the coy Spring beholds her earliest verdure Brighten with smiles that rugged, sea-side hamlet, How would we hasten ! IV. There under elm-trees affluent in foliage, High o'er whose summit hovered the sea-eagle, Through the hot, glaring noontide have we rested, After our gambols. V. Vainly the sailor called you from your slumber : Like a glazed pavement shone the level ocean; While, with their snow-white canvass idly drooping, Stood the tall vessels. VI. And, when at length, exulting ye awakened, Rushed to the beach, and ploughed the liquid acres, How have I chased you through the shivered billows, In my frail shallop ! 54 MIDSUMMER IN THE CITY. VII. Playmates, old playmates, hear my invocation ! In the close town I waste this golden summer, Where piercing cries and sounds of wheels in motion Ceaselessly mingle. VIII. When shall I feel your breath upon my forehead? When shall I hear you in the elm-trees' branches? When shall we wrestle in the briny surges, Friends of my boyhood? 55 MUSIC ON THE WATERS. Hark ! while our ship is swinging Above the ocean caves, The twilight gale is bringing Soft music o'er the waves. Ah ! from what isle of pleasure Floats the harmonious sound? To that entrancing measure, A fairy troop might bound. Hush! now it faints, it lingers; Now with a peal sublime, Struck by the wind-god's fingers, It drowns the billowy chime. 5Q MUSIC ON THE WATERS. The stars more brightly glisten; The waves beneath the moon Fall down, and seem to listen, Enchanted, to the tune. Now mounting, now subsiding, It swells, it sinks, it dies ; Now on the swift breeze gliding, Over the deep it flies. So sweet and so endearing The strain, that, ere 'tis done, Thought seems absorbed in hearing, All senses in the one. 57 THE NIGHT-STORM AT SEA. 'Tis a dreary thing to be Tossing on the wide, wide sea, When the sun has set in clouds, And the wind sighs through the shrouds With a voice and with a tone Like a living creature's moan. Look, how wildly swells the surge Round the black horizon's verge ! See the giant billows rise, From the ocean to the skies, While the sea-bird wheels his flight O'er their streaming crests of white ! 58 THE NIGHT-STORM AT SEA. List ! the wind is wakening fast ; All the sky is overcast ; Lurid vapors, hurrying, trail In the pathway of the gale, As it strikes us with a shock That might rend the deep-set rock. Falls the strained and shivered mast ! Spars are scattered by the blast; And the sails are split asunder, As a cloud is rent by thunder; And the struggling vessel shakes, As the wild sea o'er her breaks. Ah! what sudden light is this, Blazing o'er the dark abyss 1 Lo! the full moon rears her form 'Mid the cloud-rifts of the storm, And, athwart the troubled air, Shines, like hope upon despair ! THE NIGHT-STORM AT SEA. 59 Every leaping billow gleams With the lustre of her beams, And lifts high its fiery plume Through the midnight's parting gloom, While its scattered flakes of gold O'er the sinking deck are rolled. Father, low on bended knee, Humbled, weak, we turn to thee; Spare us, 'mid the fearful fight Of the raging winds to-night ; Guide us o'er the threat'ning wave; Save us ; — thou alone canst save ! 60 A SUMMER NOON AT SEA A holy stillness, beautiful and deep, Reigns in the air and broods upon the ocean ; The worn-out winds are quieted to sleep, And not a wave is lifted into motion. The fleecy clouds hang on the soft blue sky, Into fantastic shapes of brilliance moulded, Pillowed on one another broad and high, With the sun's dazzling tresses interfolded. The sea-bird skims along the glassy tide, With sidelong flight and wing of glittering white- ness, Or floats upon the sea, outstretching wide A sheet of gold in the meridian brightness. A SUMMER NOON AT SEA. 61 Our vessel lies, unstirred by wave or blast, As she were moored to her dark shadow seeming, Her pennon twined around the tapering mast, And her loose sails like marble drapery gleaming. How, at an hour like this, the unruffled mind Partakes the quiet that is shed around us ! As if the Power that chained the impatient wind With the same fetter of repose had bound us ! "FORGET ME NOT. " Forget me not 1 " Ah, words of useless warning To one whose heart is henceforth memory's shrine ! Sooner the skylark might forget the morning, Than I forget a look, a tone of thine. Sooner the sunflower might forget to waken When the first radiance lights the eastern hill, Than I, by daily thoughts of thee forsaken, Feel, as they kindle, no- expanding thrill. Oft, when at night the deck I'm pacing lonely, Or when I pause to watch some fulgent star, Will Contemplation be retracing only Thy form, and fly to greet thee though afar. " F0SGET ME NOT." 63 When storms unleashed, with fearful clangor sweeping, Drive our strained bark along the hollowed sea, When to the clouds the foam-topped waves are leaping, Even then I'll not forget, beloved one, thee ! Thy image, in my sorrow-shaded hours, Will, like a sunburst on the waters, shine ; 'Twill be as grateful as the breath of flowers From some green island wafted o'er the brine. And O, sweet lady, when, from home departed, I count the leagues between us with a sigh, — When, at the thought, perchance a tear has started, May I not dream in heart thou'rt sometimes nigh? Ay, thou wilt, sometimes, when the wine-cup passes, And friends are gathering round in festal glee, While bright eyes flash as flash the brimming glasses, Let silent Memory pledge one health to me. 64 " FORGET ME NOT." Farewell ! My fatherland is disappearing Faster and faster from my baffled sight ; The winds rise wildly, and thick clouds are rearing Their ebon flags, that hasten on the night. Farewell ! The pilot leaves us ; seaward gliding, Our brave ship dashes through the foamy swell ; But Hope, forever faithful and abiding, Hears distant welcomes in this last farewell ! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. GONELLO. 'Twas in fair Florence, in the olden time, A wight, Gonello named, was born and bred; A famous jester, an unequalled mime, Sworn foe to dulness of the heart and head. Sunny his spirits as his own fair clime; Mirth was his raiment, and on mirth he fed : In truth, he was a most diverting fellow; No cross-grained iEsop, but — in short, Gonello. But Dulness holds it treason to be witty ; And, having ridiculed some dolt of rank, Gonello was condemned to leave the city, — A hard return for such a harmless prank. 68 GONELLO. Neither his jokes nor tears could gain him pity, And all his friends were busy or looked blank, When he drew near to ask them for assistance, Telling him, by their shrugs, to keep his distance. He turned away in loneliness of heart, Bestowing many a bitter gibe on those Who, because Folly feared some random dart While Wit was foraging, had grown his foes. "Dear Florence," quoth he, "must I then depart? O Fun and Fortune, spare me further blows ! " Was it not Vandal cruelty to pester With banishment so capital a jester? Gonello shook the dust from off his shoes, And the ungrateful city jokeless left. One friend, please Fortune, he would never lose — A merry heart — that still remained uncleft. What should he do? what fit employment choose, — Of home, of patron, and of means bereft ? At length he recollected a report, A fool was wanted at Ferrara's court. GONELLO. 69 Thither he went to seek the situation, And urged his claims with such a comic face, That he was made, by formal installation, Prime fool and licensed jester to his grace; And, having settled down in this vocation, He put on motley as became his place; And thenceforth passed his precious time in joking, Punning and quizzing, revelling and smoking. His jests, unlike some jests that we might name, Had nothing in them of a mouldy savor; But fresh, and apt, and tipped with point they came, To put grim Melancholy out of favor ; To drive Imposture to his den of shame, To scourge Pretence, and make true Merit braver : So that you granted, after you had laughed, Though Wit had feathered, Truth had barbed the shaft. The marquis held him in esteem so great, That, spite of motley wear, the jester soon Became a dabster in affairs of state, Though frowned upon by many a pompous loon 70 GONELLO. 'Twas an odd combination of his fate — A politician, honest man, buffoon ! But he was frank — rare trait in an adviser ; And, though a fool, no senator was wiser. And so, on rapid wing, his days flew by. What though a league of dunces might oppose? From modest Worth he never drew the sigh, And never added to Affliction's woes. But, ah ! securest joy, mishap is nigh ; The storm condenses while the noontide glows: The marquis failed in health — grew more unwell ; And, thereupon, a strange event befell. His grace's illness was a quartan ague, Which the physicians tried in vain to cure. I hope, dear reader, it may never plague you : Doubtless 'tis quite unpleasant to endure. Should this digression seem a little vague, you Will see how hard it is a rhyme to lure, And pardon me the fault; or, what is better, Remould the stanza, and make me your debtor. GONELLO. 71 One remedy there was; but who would dare Apply it, hazarding the patient's wrath? 'Twas simply this, — to take him unaware And throw him overboard, by way of bath ; — A liberty he might not tamely bear, But sweep the rash adventurer from his path. Since the physicians would not then apply it, Gonello secretly resolved to try it. No great regard had he for outward rank ; And as the marquis strolled with him one day, In idle mood, along the river's bank, He pushed him over headlong from the quay; Then, seeing him drawn out ere thrice he sank, Turned a droll somerset, and ran away; Knowing, unless he vanished with velocity, His priceless ears might pay for the atrocity. The marquis was pulled out, all wet and dripping, Enraged at having been so vilely treated; Albeit, indeed, the unexpected dipping Had, strange to say, his malady unseated. 72 GONELLO. But still he swore, the knave should catch a whipping. In this he quickly found himself defeated ; — His followers said, Gonello had decamped ; On learning which, his highness swore and stamped. All with responsive choler were inflamed — At least they said so — at the daring deed; And, the next day, an edict was proclaimed, In which 'twas by authority decreed, Gonello was a traitor, who had aimed Even at his liege's life ; — and so, " take heed, All ye whom it concerns, he dies, if found, Ever again, upon Ferrara ground." Gonello read the merciless decree, Then critically conned it o'er and o'er, And pondered every syllable, to see If no equivocal intent it bore. Some subtle quirk, he thought, some jesting plea, Might help his fame and favor to restore. Yes! he has wrested an equivocation, After hard study, from the proclamation. GONELLO. 73 " 'Tis only on Ferrara ground/' he said, " The penalty here threatened can befall ; On ground of friendly Padua if I tread, Do I infringe the edict? Not at all!" So, without fear of jeoparding his head, He went to give his grace a morning call, And crossed in motley state Ferrara's bound, Perched on a wagon, labelled "^.Bafcuan. (Kroutrti." By this device he hoped to have evaded The clutches of the prowling men of law; But, ah ! he did not view the thing as they did, Who stood not for entreaty or for flaw, But pulled him down, unpitied and unaided, And thrust him in a prison's greedy maw, — Assuring him that, spite of needful haste, The " affair " should be conducted in good taste. "The affair? Ha! what affair?" Gonello cried; " Can it then be I'm under mortal ban ? Is this the way 'gainst lapses to provide, — To cut the head off of the erring man ? 74 GONELLO. To make the law a ruthless homicide? Is this the wisest, most remedial plan? If I escape this sentence of impiety, I'll found an anti-blood-spilling society." Alas ! 'tis only when the mischief reaches Our own quick sense of wrong, we feel for others ; 'Tis then Experience, the laggard, teaches A truth the unfeeling world too often smothers, — And yet a truth which conscience ever preaches, — £i)e aooo" of all fs lofcgefc in one poor brother's. O ! when mankind shall feel this truth aright, No Fourier need scheme, no Taylor fight. But where's Gonello ? To his dungeon-cell A priest has come to give him absolution. " Good father," quoth the jester, " all is well ; — The spirit carries its own retribution; — Yes, its own bias is its heaven or hell. But hark ! the signal for my execution ! The knell of fun ! Lead on ! Though I'm a sinner, By this fair light, I hope to be the winner ! " GONELLO. t, Tlioii art all thy country's still : Still thy great example li. And its life to million! gii Still thy influence we hail, Still thy e..uiiMl> -hall prevail ; And thy \ery name 80*11 be Like a spell to Liberty ! 93 THE DAYS THAT ARE PAST We will not deplore them, the days that are past : The gloom of misfortune is over them cast; They were lengthened by sorrow and sullied by care, Their griefs were too many, their joys were too rare; Yet now that their shadows are on us no more, Let us welcome the prospect that brightens before ! We've cherished fair hopes, we've plotted brave schemes, — We've lived till we find them illusive as dreams; Wealth has melted like snow that is grasped in the hand, And the steps we have climbed sink beneath us like sand; Yet shall we despond while of health unbereft, And honor, bright honor, and freedom are left? THE HAYS THAI O, shall \. id, while the peg i of time i < i op o bt lore m their 1 1 iblime 1 While, ennobled bj treasures m< i gold, ii walk with the heroea and nartyn of old ? Wlule humanity irhiipefl Rich tale*) IB I I dj the heart, 1 1 k * ■ sweet music, t<> fa O, -Inll we d eepo n d, while, with runon still fl We can gaze <>n the sky, an the \ i Where the brook flows." Out on thee, fhgitire, Fickle, untrue I Leai ing the i iolet, Whom wilt thou v. Canal thou delighted be With heeiUi undone 1 Canst thou show constancy Never to one? M Ah! heel "»»■, maiden dear ! Torn n<»t away : I here a rarer been Until to-day ; But now I find a home Where I <:ili re-t j Capti kk, at leu Here on thj br( 97 FLORETTE. ILLUSTRATIVE OF A PICTURE. Spring-flower of loveliness ! gentle Florette! Who that once saw thee could ever forget? While a spark of life lingers, this heart and this brain Shall thy beauty recall and thy image retain. Though Time has sped far on his merciless flight Since first thy dear features enchanted my sight, As clearly they rise upon memory yet As when, in the bloom of thy graces, we met. 'Twas a bright day in autumn : on hill-side and plain, Like a yellower sunshine, appeared the bright grain; And there 'mid the reapers, Flcrette, didst thou stand, With the spoils of the harvest half-clasped in thy hand. 7 98 FLORETTF. Well and boldly the 1 miner hath ventured to trace Thy dark-folded hair and thy luminous i'.ic.v ; But the image engravm A in my heart, Is matchless in nature and fairer than art. 99 THE SPRING-TIME WILL RETURN The birds are mute, the bloom is fled, Cold, cold the north winds blow; And radiant Summer lieth dead Beneath a shroud of snow. Sweet Summer ! well may we regret Thy brief, too brief sojourn ; But, while we grieve, we'll not forget, The Spring-time will return! Dear friend, the hills rise bare and bleak That bound thy future years; Clouds veil the sky, no golden streak, No rainbow light appears; 100 TU :.ME WILL IS1 Mi-.-lniirr lit- trtcked thj -chemes, Tu wrerk — to whelm — to burn; But wintry-dark thOQgfa FortUM TIM Spring4HM will return ! red <>ne I where no su: hine Th\ mortal frame ire laid ; But O, thy spirit's form diwno Waits no sepulchral -hade! by those bopei which, plumed with light, The sod, ending, spurn, Love's paradise shall bloom more bright — The Spring-time will return! 101 THE FOUNTAIN IN THE CITY. Amid the city's din and dust, thy foaming column springs, And on the trodden soil around refreshing moisture flings. Thou'rt like that grateful human heart, O fountain pure and bright ! Which, in the midst of sin and care, is ever fresh and white; Which scatters love and joy around, and, as it gushes, shows Each ray from Heaven, its fountain-head, and Faiths prismatic bows. 1CW THE CAPTIVE. '• Rjn from thy dungeon il«• ahound THE CAPTIVE. 103 Listen ! a word, a sign, That thou abjur'st thy creed, Life, riches, honors — all are thine: Ha! wilt thou now be freed?" The captive gazed, and said, — " O, lovely is the light ; And fairer scenes were never spread Beneath my waking sight; And fragrant is the breath Of this reviving breeze ; But O, more fair than all, is death, To him whose spirit sees ! " For that is life indeed, Which heeds not time and space; And freedom, where no bonds impede The spirit's heavenward race. O, speed me to that goal, Beneath that brighter sky ! Death cannot daunt the immortal soul ; — Brother, lead on to die ! " iui FANTASY AM) TACT. Tboi Witl And \- t the m l I . . the more I recoiled thj f. Each feature to m? mind n i An im ige of the paet, Which, where the shad f.ilN, b i Bred t<> the laat Hut the irho iff in thine Waa not, alai ' of earth ; And \, uhat cloudl <»f T\nan dffl Arc sloping down tin- uc-l ! And high above the purple pile, The BTlinj star ;i|.|m Till, as we gtze, tlie loud one's snide, Like twilight's, en4> in '' I turn to thee, and start to i ;u that bright ideal, — The eyee, the shape, the ringlets free, The falicif , e d ! Two risioufl here irajlaid mi heart, A fajbfl OQfl and a true ; And, by the soul of t rut h, thou art The fairer of the two ! 107 A MORNING INVOCATION. Wake, slumberer ! Summer's sweetest hours Are speeding fast away; The sun has waked the opening flowers To greet the new-born day ; The deer leaps from his leafy haunt, And swims the purple lake; The birds their grateful carols chant, — All Nature cries, " Awake ! " O, lose not in unconscious ease An hour so heavenly fair : Come forth, while yet the glittering trees Wave in the genial air, — M A Wlulc \ the hills The miat rolli from the vale. ! ' tOO -(M.n, The L'lory thai! d And, in the fen xi I OO, The Tl. the boar It^ early bloom pan Bj all that - - beautiful and l.n. I call on thee. Awal 109 THE FUGITIVE FROM LOVE Is there but a single theme For the youthful poet's dream? Is there but a single wire To the youthful poet's lyre? Earth below and heaven above — Can he sing of nought but love ? Nay ! the battle's dust I see — God of war, I follow thee; And, in martial numbers, raise Worthy paeans to thy praise! Ah ! she meets me on the field — If I fly not, I must yield. 110 thi: Jolly patron of the grape, To tl»y arms I will | Quick, the lOfJf DOOtai bring — "lo Bfteeho!" I uill sn.g! Hi ! COttfilNOfl I <'\< ry sip But reminds me of In r lip. Pallas, give me wisdom's page, And awake my epic r Love i< Boi ting, l<»vr i< vain ; — I will try a nobler -train ! O, perplexity ! my books But reflect her haunting looks, Jupiter, on thee I cry — Take mo and my lyre on higfcl Lo! the stars beneath me i_ r lenm — II. r. , < ) p. Bt, ■ a '■ ry eh. rd Is whtflp MiiJ, " LOVC ! Ill WHEN THE NIGHT-WIND BEWAILETH SET TO MUSIC BY W. R. DEMPSTER. When the night-wind bewaileth The fall of the year, And sweeps from the forest The leaves that are sere, I wake from my slumber And list to the roar; And it saith to my spirit, " No more — never more ! O ! never more ! " Through memory's chambers, The forms of the past, The joys of my childhood Rush by with the blast; 119 wii. And thr lotf OftV 1 ned lo id :i witli the nighfrJ) u No more — m-wr n O ! aerer mor* The trees of tin- fan Shall blossom ftgtin, And the wild birds shall ciml A soul-thrilling strain ; lint tli- nhrred No r estore ; And it- vful No more — never more 1 O! aerer morel 113 TO A SINGING BIRD. Blithe little prisoned warbler, Thy silvery tones outbreak, Like raindrops among summer leaves, Or on a glassy lake ! How can such gleeful carols Gush from thy quivering breast, When in that gloomy cage thou'rt held, Far from thy native nest ? O, dost thou never languish, And droop thy head in pain; Missing the genial island-home Thou may'st not see a