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THE RETURN OF THE ADMIRAL.
And never, from that moment
Save one shudder through the sea, Saw we (or heard) the shark
That had follow'd in our lee!
How gallantly, how merrily,
We ride along the sea ! The morning is all sunshine,
The wind is blowing free : The billows are all sparkling,
And bounding in the light, Like creatures in whose sunny veins
The blood is running bright. All nature knows our triumph:
Strange birds about us sweep; Strange things come up to look at us,
The masters of the deep :
Follows even the bold shark-
Of such a bonny bark !
I LOVE thee! Oh, the strife, the pain,
The fiery thoughts that through me roll ! I love thee! Look-again, again!
O stars ! that thou couldst read my soul : I would thy bright bright eye could pierce
The crimson folds that hide my heart; Then wouldst thou find the serpent fierce
That stings memand will not depart!
Proud, proud, must be our admiral,
(Though he is pale to-day,) Of twice five hundred iron men,
Who all his nod obey; Who've fought for him, and conquer'd
Who've won, with sweat and gore, Nobility! which he shall have
Whene'er he touch the shore.
To order, with a word
And straight rise up a lord !
Who follows in our lee,
Like lightning through the sea.”
Look love upon me, with thine eyes !
Yet, no-men's evil tongues are nigh: Look pity, then, and with thy sighs
Waste music on me-till I die! Yet, love not ! sigh not! Turn (thou must)
Thy beauty from me, sweet and kind; 'Tis fit that I should burn to dust
To death: because I am not blind! I love thee-and I live! The moon
Who sees me from her calm above, The wind who weaves her dim soft tune
About me, know how much I love! Naught else, save night and the lonely hour,
E'er heard my passion wild and strong; Even thou yet deem'st not of thy power,
Unless—thou readst aright my song!
-The admiral grew paler,
And paler as we flew : Still talk'd he to his officers,
And smiled upon his crew; And he look'd up at the heavens,
And he look'd down on the sea, And at last he spied the creature,
That kept following in our lee. He shook-'t was but an instant
For speedily the pride
Till all chances he defied :
Gave firmness to his breath;
New risen up from death.
She sleeps among her pillows soft,
(A dove, now wearied with her flight) And all around, and all aloft,
Hang flutes and folds of virgin white: Her hair out-darkens the dark night,
Her glance outshines the starry sky; But now her locks are hidden quite,
And closed is her fringed eye!
That night, a horrid whisper
Fell on us where we lay; And we knew our old fine admiral
Was changing into clay; And we heard the wash of waters,
Though nothing could we see, And a whistle and a plunge
Among the billows in our lee ! Till dawn we watch'd the body
In its dead and ghastly sleep, And next evening at sunset,
It was slung into the deep!
She sleepeth : wherefore doth she start?
She sigheth: doth she feel no pain ? None, none! the dream is near her heart:
The spirit of sleep is in her brain. He cometh down like golden rain,
Without a wish, without a sound; He cheers the sleeper (ne'er in vain) Like May, when earth is winter-bound. All day within some cave he lies,
Dethroned from his nightly swayFar fading when the dawning skies
Our souls with wakening thoughts array. Two Spirits of might doth man obey ;
By each he's wrought, from each he learns : The one is Lord of life by day;
The other when starry night returns.
I DIE FOR THY SWEET LOVE.
I due for thy sweet love! The ground
Not panteth so for summer rain,
And yet--I sigh in vain !
Each one, perhaps, surpassing me:
Of what I feel for thee?
Who round the wild world laugh and rove: I only think how sweet 't would be
To die for thy sweet love!
7 A PETITION TO TIME.
The spirits of the mighty sea,
To-night are waken'd from their dreams,
Baring their foreheads where the gleams
Loud war upon the peaceful night,
Through the tempest blue and bright;
Earth-ocean-air ? and aye with time,
Methinks their colloquy sublime
The trembling billows headlong go,
In mighty transport till they grow
Lie women, and men, and children fair ; Some hanging, like sleep, to their swollen pillows,
With helpless sinews and streaming hair, And some who plunge in the yawning graves ! Ah! lives there no strength beyond the waves ? 'Tis said, the moon can rock the sea
From phrensy strange to silence mildTo sleep-to death :-But where is she,
While now her storm-born giant child Upheaves his shoulder to the skies? Arise, sweet planet pale-arise !
Touch us gently, Time !
Let us glide adown thy stream
Through a quiet dream !
We've not proud nor soaring wings; Our ambition, our content,
Lies in simple things,
She cometh-lovelier than the dawn
In summer, when the leaves are greenMore graceful than the alarmed fawn,
Over his grassy supper seen: Bright quiet from her beauty falls, Until-again the tempest calls !
The supernatural storm-he waketh
Again, and lo! from sheets all white, Stands up unto the stars, and shaketh
Scorn on the jewell'd locks of night. He carries a ship on his foaming crown, And a cry, like hell, as he rushes down!
A CHAMBER SCENE. TREAD softly through these amorous rooms;
For every bough is hung with life,
And kisses in harmonious strife, Unloose their sharp and wing'd perfumes ! From Afric, and the Persian looms,
The carpet's silken leaves have sprung, And heaven, in its blue bounty, flung These starry flowers, and azure blooms. Tread softly! By a creature fair
The deity of love reposes,
His red lips open, like the roses Which' round his hyacinthine hair .
Hang in crimson coronals;
And passion fills the arched halls; And beauty floats upon the air, Tread softly-softly, like the foot
Of Winter, shod with fleecy snow, Who cometh white, and cold, and mute,
Lest he should wake the Spring below. Oh, look! for here lie Love and Youth,
Fair spirits of the heart and mind : Alas! that one should stray from truth;
And one-be ever, ever blind!
And so still soars from calm to storm,
The stature of the unresting sea :
Until at last we sleep,
And never wake nor weep, (Hush'd to death by some faint tune,) În our grave beneath the moon !
THE LAKE HAS BURST.
A PRAYER IN SICKNESS.
Send down thy wingéd angel, God !
Amid this night so wild; And bid him come where now we watch,
And breathe upon our child !
She lies upon her pillow, pale,
And moans within her sleep, Or wakeneth with a patient smile,
And striveth not to weep.
The lake has burst! The lake has burst! Down through the chasms the wild waves flee,
They gallop along
With a roaring song, . Away to the eager awaiting sea ! Down through the valleys, and over the rocks, And over the forests the flood runs free;
And wherever it dashes,
The oaks and the ashes Shrink, drop, and are borne to the hungry sea ! The cottage of reeds and the tower of stone, Both shaken to ruin, at last agree;
And the slave and his master
In one wide disaster
And the sleep-buried thunder
Awakens in wonder,
There is nothing now doing
But terror and ruin,
How gentle and how good a child
She is, we know too well, And dearer to her parents' hearts,
Than our weak words can tell.
We love-we watch throughout the night,
To aid, when need may be ; We hope—and have despair'd, at times;
But now we turn to Thee !
Send down thy sweet-sould angel, God!
Amid the darkness wild, And bid him soothe our souls to-night, - And heal our gentle child !
THE STORMY PETREL.
THE WEAVER'S SONG.
A THOUSAND miles from land are we,
Weave, brothers, weave !_Swiftly throw
The shuttle athwart the loom, And show us how brightly your flowers grow,
That have beauty but no perfume !
The lily, that hath no spot ;
Sing-sing, brothers! weave and sing!
"Tis good both to sing and to weave! 'Tis better to work than live idle ;
”T is better to sing than grieve. Weave, brothers, weave!-Weave, and bid
The colours of sunset glow!
Let beauty about ye blow!
And your hands both firm and sure,
So-sing, brothers, &c.
But toil is the lot of men;
One soweth the seed again!
To the peasant that delves the soil,
So,-sing, brothers, &c.
Up and down! Up and down !
O'er the deep! O'er the deep! ffish sleep,
A DEEP AND A MIGHTY SHADOW.
A DEEP and a mighty shadow
Across my heart is thrown,
Where the thunder-wind hath blown!
And leaveth me alone
Alone with my hopeless sorrow :
No other mate I know !
But the dull words will not flow ! I pray-but my prayers are driven Aside, by the angry heaven,
And weigh me down with wo!
The sea! the sea! the open sea !
I call on the past, to lend me
Its songs, to soothe my pain : I bid the dim future send me
A light from its eyes—in vain ! Naught comes; but a shrill cry starteth From Hope, as she fast departeth :
“I go, and come not again!".
Say they that all beauty lies
In the paler maiden's hue ? Say they that all softness flies,
Save from the eyes of April blue ? Arise thou, like a night in June,
Beautiful Quadroon !
Come-all dark and bright, as skies
With the tender starlight hung! Loose the love from out thine eyes !
Loose the angel from thy tongue ! Let them hear heaven's own sweet tune,
Beautiful Quadroon !
SOFTLY WOO AWAY HER BREATH.
Tell them-Beauty (born above) · From no shade nor hue doth fly; All she asks is mind, is love,
And both upon thine aspect lieLike the light upon the moon,
Beautiful Quadroon !
SOFTLY Woo away her breath,
Tender mournful, murmuring Life! She hath seen her happy day;
She hath had her bud and blossom ; Now she pales and shrinks away,
Earth, into thy gentle bosom.
Seraph of the skies-sweet Love! Good she was, and fair in youth,
And her mind was seen to soar,
Take her, then, for evermore-
He died, and left the world behind !
His once wild heart is cold !
What more ?-His tale is told.
He earn'd the base world's ban : And-having vainly lived and taught, · Gave place to a meaner man!
TO THE SOUTH WIND. O sweet South Wind! Long hast thou linger'd midst those islands fair, Which lie, enchanted, on the Indian deep, Like sea-maids all asleep, Charm'd by the cloudless sun and azure air! O sweetest southern wind! Pause here awhile, and gently now unbind Thy dark rose-crowned hair! Wilt thou not unloose now, In this, the bluest of all hours, Thy passion-colour'd flowers ? Rest; and let fall the fragrance from thy brow On Beauty's parted lips and closed eyes, And on her cheeks, which crimson-liked the skies; And slumber on her bosum, white as snow, Whilst starry midnight flies ! We, whom the northern blast Blows on, from night till morn, from morn to eve, Hearing thee, sometimes grieve That our poor summer's day not long may last : And yet, perhaps, 'twere well We should not ever dwell With thee, sweet spirit of the sunny south; But touch thy odorous mouth Once, and be gone unto our blasts again, And their bleak welcome, and our wintry snow; And arm us (by enduring) for that pain Which the bad world sends forth, and all its wo!
REMEMBERED LOVE. On power of love! so fearful and so fairLife of our life on earth, yet kin to careOh! thou day-dreaming spirit who dost look Upon the future as the charmed book Of Fate were open'd to thine eyes aloneThou who dost cull, from moments stolen and gone Into eternity, memorial things, To deck the days to come-thy revelings Were glorious and beyond all others. Thou Didst banquet upon beauty once; and now The ambrosial feast is ended! Let it be Enough to say “ It was." Oh! upon me, From thy o'ershadowing wings ethereal, Shake odorous airs, so may my senses all Be spell-bound to thy service, beautiful power, And on the breath of every coming hour | Send me faint tidings of the things that were.
METHINKS There's something lonely in the state of kings! None dare come near them. As the eagle, poised Upon his sightless throne in upper air, Scares gentle birds away, so kings (cut off From human kindred by the curse of power) Are shunn'd and live alone. Who dare come near The region of a king? There is a wall (Invisible, indeed, yet strong and high) Which fences kings from close approach of men. They live respected-oh, that chest “respect!" As if the homage that abases others Could comfort him that has't. Alone-alone! Prison'd in ermine and a velvet chairShut out from hope, (the height being all attain'd,) Yet touch'd by terrors—what can soothe a king!
I SEE small difference 'Twixt one sound and its next. All seem akin And run on the same feet, ever.
Peace! Thou want'st One heavenly sense, and speak'st in ignorance. Seest thou no differing shadows which divide The rose and poppy ? 'Tis the same with sounds. There's not a minute in the round of time [space But's hinged with different music. In that small Between the thought and its swift utteranceEre silence buds to sound-the angels, listening, Hear infinite varieties of song! And they who turn the lightning-rapid spheres Have flown an evening's journey.
NIGHT THOUGHTS. 'Tis night-still night! The murmuring world
lies still ! All things which are lie still and whisper not; The owl, the bat, the clock which strikes the hour And summons forgetful man to think of heaven, The midnight cricket on the ashy hearth, Are quiet, dumb! Hope, Fear, lie drown'd in dreams; And conscience, calmer than a baby's breath, Murders the heart no more. Who goes? 'Tis naught, Save the bird echo, who comes back to me Afraid o' the silence. Love! art thou asleep? Rose o' the night, on whom the soft dew lies, Here come I, sweet, mocking the nightingale, To sing of endless love, passionate pain, And wishes that know no rest!
We have left behind us The riches of the meadows, and now come To visit the virgin primrose where she dwells, Midst harebells and the wild-wood hyacinths. 'Tis there she keeps her court. Dost see yon bank The sun is kissing? Near-go near! for there, ('Neath those broad leaves, amidst yon straggling Immaculate odours from the violet (grasses,) Spring up for ever: Like sweet thoughts that come Wing'd from the maiden fancy, and fly off In music to the skies, and there are lost, These ever-steaming odours seek the sun And fade in the light he scatters.
HAPPINESS. A month ago I was happy! No, Not happy, yet encircled by deep joy, Which, though 'twas all around, I could not touch. But it was ever thus with Happiness: It is the gay to-morrow of the mind That never comes.