Yet, 'tis not always fair
To read the bosom through the eye-for there A sleepless, an untold of worm may lurk, And do, although it 'plain not, deadly work;
And make men seem unkind to those whom heaven Hath heard them plead for, when the heart was riven With its own griefs. If such are breathing, sure Life lends no joy ?-they live not-they endure- And (were there not a world beyond this scene) Than thus to be 'twere better not have been!
Flash courses flash! the war-ship's mast is shivered- Smote by the cloudsped bolt that o'er it quivered! A broader flame the midnight blackness broke- Her magazine receives the thunder-stroke, And fires that vault, which stars no longer pave, As though a SUN were bursting from the wave! Bewildering, giddy glare! The echoes reel From cliff to cliff, replying to the peal That red explosion rang along the sky; It seemed as if its cloud-voiced potency Surprised the rocks to utterance! The bay Heaved liquid flame beneath the sudden day, Whose dawn was death; and some, who cursed the night, Hid their pale eyes from that appalling light. Sped by her star, a gallant ship drew near-
The signal-shot flashed frequent from her tier- She struck, and staggered, in her mid career;
Then, swift as thought, her fragments strewed the spray, As some enchanted castle melts away!
A crowded skiff was labouring for the land-
The wreck they fled drove mastless and unmanned; Bold the attempt, but fruitless, to elude
The swiftly-rolling billows that pursued.
Their bark had rubbed the sand, but failed to reach Ere mountain waves broke o'er it on the beach,
And dashed them to the earth :-they rise--they spring-- Vain as the wounded plover's fluttering!
For oh! as if some sea-fiend mocked their toil, The big wave caught them in its swift recoil.
One youth was left--the lightning as it sped Showed those who baulked the Sea-dog of the dead,- Fling forth the coil he shivering grasped--and now, While some shade back the tangle from his brow, An age-worn man that freezing eye surveys, Where life late played-alas no longer plays! [speak Smites his scathed breast--and cries (in tones which The heart's last burst of anguish ere it break)— 'How have I sighed to hail thy wanderings done→→ 'And meet we thus at last-my son! my son !'
The storm relents not as the tiger's mood Becomes blood-thirsty by the taste of blood, It growls for other victims! Hast thou been The near spectator of a shipwreck scene? Heard the unanswered cry of sore distress, Marked the strong throes of drowning eagerness, The body maddened by the spirit's pain, The wild, wild, working of the breast and brain, The haggard eye that, horror-widened, sees Death take the start of sorrow and disease? For such were heard and seen-so close at hand, A cable's length had reached them from the land; Yet farther off than ocean ever bore ;-
Eternity between them and the shore!
Some sought the beach with many a sob and strain, But felt each sinew fettered by a chain
Which dragged them writhing down: a secret hand Buoyed others up, and cast them on the land-- Miraculously saved! A few were there
Who prayed with fervent, and confiding prayer→→ Alas, too few! The many still would cling To toil and tears-to life and suffering.
And some, whose anguish might not brook to wait That shunless doom, plunged headlong to their fate;
Yet nature struggled to the last thick gasp; It was a misery to see them grasp
The sliding waves, and clench the hand, and toil Like a spent eagle in the whirlwind's coil- Till dashed against some floating spar or mast, On Ocean's rocking couch they slept at last. Pale, panic-struck, the youth falls prostrate-reft Of senses that had maddened were they left; The hardened fool, whose life of enterprise Long verged on death, in drunken frenzy dies; And helpless woman's wail, upon the wave, Pleads at the heart, which yearns in vain to save. But there were some, in hopelessness of soul, Who pined at heart to reach the destined goal; Yes, long had spurned the load of life, unawed, But dared not rush, uncalled, before their God ;-- Or, haply, pride that trembled at a stain, Or, haply, love for those they would not pain, Had moved to give the fatal purpose up- Unedged the steel, and spilled the poison-cup: These, bitter days, soul-racking nights had tried- And scaped, perchance, the curse of suicide.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugged and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return; With over-weathered ribs, and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggared by the strumpet wind! MERCHANT OF VENICE.
AN anxious, lingering, perilous voyage past, An India ship hailed Albion's land at last!
Moored in the Downs, her mighty pinions close Like some far flying bird that seeks repose; While, crowding on the deck, a hundred eyes Turned shoreward-flashed with pleasure and surprise. That eve they anchored, from the horizon's hem The virgin Moon, as if to welcome them, Rose from her rest-but would no more reveal Than the faint outline of her pale profile : Though soon (as maids forego their fears) she gave Her orbed brow to kiss the wanton wave: Till-like a scornful lover, swoll'n with pride, Because too fondly loved to be denied,
The rude wave spurned her off, and raised that loud And angry blast that screamed through sail and shroud, The live-long night on which my harp is dwelling. Meanwhile, the swarthy crew, each care dispelling, Had sported thrice three summer suns away Since they had cast their anchor in that bay. O, none save Fortune's step-sons, doomed to roam The deep, can prize a harbour and a home! [ing- The temperate breeze their sun-bronzed temples bless- A native shore the gladdened eye refreshing-- The painted pinnace dancing from the land Freighted with friends--the pressure of the hand Whose pulse throbs happy seconds--the warm gush Of blood into the cheek, as it would rush
With the heart's welcome ere the tongue could half Perform its office-feeling's telegraph!
Impassioned smiles, and tears of rapture starting- Oh, how unlike the tears, which fell at parting! And all were their's-that good, ship's gallant crew- As though each joy, which absence rendered due Were paid in one bright moment: such are known To those long severed, loving, loved, alone!
A gorgeous freight that broad-sailed vessel bore- The blazing diamonds and the blushing ore; Spices that sighed their incense, till the sails Were fanned along on aromatic gales
From Orient lands. Then marvel not if he Who there is Chief should look exultingly
Back on the storms he baffled, and should know The bosom's warmest wildest overflow
While gazing on the land, which laughed before him— The smooth sea round-the blue pavilion o'er him! Yet felt he more than ever sprang from these, For love demanded deeper sympathies; And long in lonely bower had sighed for him A fond fair Bride, whose infant Cherubim Oft spirit-clouded from its playthings crept, To weep beside its mother while she wept. But O, they met at length! And such sweet days Already proved as leave a light that plays Upon the memory when their warmth is gone The fount thus treasures sun-beams, and shines on Through dusk and darkness. Like some happy mother, Joy marked the hours pursuing one another- A wreath of buoyant angels! Yet as they
Wheeled laughing round,oft sighed-to make them stay!
This was a day of banqueting on board; And swan-winged barks, and barges many-oared Came crowded to the feast. The young-the gay- The beautiful-were there. Right merrily
The pleasure boats glide onward;—with swift prow The clear wave curling, till around each bow, With frequent flash, the bright and feathery spray Threw mimic rainbows at the sun in play. The ship is won, the silken chair is lowered- Exulting Youth and Beauty bound on board; And, while they wondering gaze on sail and shroud, The flag flaps o'er them like a crimson cloud,
Young Pleasure kissed each heart! From Persia's loom An ample awning spread its purple bloom To canopy the guests; and vases, wreathed
With deep-hued flowers and foliage, sweetly breathed Their incense, fresh as zephyrs when they rove Among the blossoms of a citron grove;
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