But thou hast roll'd from chaos, ere the Word
The mighty Word! through realms of ether came;
When the vast depths of thy dark waters heard

Creation started into life, and earth

Rose proudly into birth.

Thou hast thy mountain-waves resistless hurl'd
O'er the devoted ones of every land,
Taking within thy breast a sinful world

And human littleness and human pride
Thou wert condem'd to hide.

Oh! thou art lovely, when the golden smiles
Of the warm sunbeams on thy surface rest,
Giving to life and light a thousand isles

And send delicious odors in the breeze,

From groves of spicy trees.

Jehovah's name.

At His command.

Which gem thy breast,

But thou art glorious when the tempest howls,
Like a roused tigress springing to the fight;
And the black sky grows blacker as it scowls

When thunder roars, and the red lightning leaps
Over thy foaming deeps.

Changes have fallen on the earth, but thou

Hast been the same from the first age of men ;
The same eternal glory decks thy brow

Though storms rush over thee, thou flowest on
As calmly when they're gone.

Thou takest from the continents, to add

To wave-girt islands an extended space; And by degrees bare rocks with earth are clad

Upon the night :

As it did then.

For a new race;

How was their glory clouded with thy frown!
How before thee their boasted strength grew weak!
How did the proud 'Invincible' bow down

When thou did'st speak!

Silver and gold,

O, might I but possess the precious store

Which thou hast gather'd to thy hoards of old,
Composed of riches brought from ev'ry shore;

And gems, from Heathen, Christian, Jew, and Moor,-
Then no man should be poor!

For thou hast jewels of uncounted price,
Gather'd from older worlds as rich as ours,
When, numerous ages since, the glittering vice

Had all its powers;

And man allow'd his heart to be a clod,
That gold might be his god.

The mighty Babylon her tribute sent,

And princely Tyre, and gorgeous Sidon too; From wond'rous Thebes the fated vessels went

And gold of Ophir, cunning hands had wrought,
The ships of Tarshish brought.

But thy exchequer flourishes as high
Almost as once it did; within thy deeps
The El Dorado stores neglected lie

To pay their due:

In mountain heaps;

And India has poured forth her millions there
Of treasures rich and rare.

And wave-girt Venice, thron'd upon the sea,
Whose merchants have been conquerors and kings,
With Genoa the superb, pour'd fast and free

Their precious things,

And costly fabrics wove of silken twine,
As off'rings on thy shrine.

Yet thou'rt a miser with thy riches,-still
Adding fresh treasure to thy hidden store ;
Though frequent argosies thy caverns fill,

Hungering for wealth, of little use to thee,
INSATIABLE SEA!

Thou seekest more;