All where the eye delights, yet dreads to roam, Is restless change; the waves so swelled and steep, May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach, CRABBE THE SOUND OF THE SEA. HOU art sounding on, thou mighty Sea, The ancient rocks yet ring to thee, Oh! many a glorious voice is gone And hushed is many a lovely one Of mournfulness or mirth. The Dorian flute that sighed of yore The harp of Judah peals no more On Zion's awful hill: And Memnon, too, hath lost the chord And mute the Moorish horn, that rang But thou art swelling on, thou Deep, Thou liftest up thy solemn voice And all our earth's green shores rejoice It fills the noontide's calm profound, And the still midnight hears the sound Let there be silence, deep and strange, Thou speak'st of One that doth not change- MRS. HEMANS. THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP. HAT hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious Main? Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-coloured shells, Bright things which gleam unrecked of and in vain. Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy Sea! We ask not such from thee. Yet more, the Depths have more !-What wealth untold, Far down, and shining through their stillness, lies! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, Won from ten thousand royal argosies. Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful Main! Earth claims not these again! Yet more, the Depths have more !-Thy waves have rolled Above the cities of a world gone by! Sand hath filled up the palaces of old, Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry! Dash o'er them, Ocean! in thy scornful play, Man yields them to decay! Yet more, the Billows and the Depths have more !- Give back the lost and lovely!-those for whom But all is not thine own! To thee the love of woman hath gone down; Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown! Yet must thou hear a voice-Restore the dead! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee! Restore the dead, thou Sea! MRS. HEMANS. THE SEA SHORE. LOVED to walk where none had walked before, About the rocks that ran along the shore; Or far beyond the sight of men to stray, And take my pleasure when I lost my way. For then 'twas mine to trace the hilly heath, And all the mossy moor that lies beneath. Here had I favourite stations where I stood, And heard the murmurs of the ocean-flood, With not a sound beside, except when flew Aloft the lapwing, or the gray curlew, Who with wild notes my fancied power defied, And mocked the dreams of solitary pride. I loved to stop at every creek and bay Made by the river in its winding way, And call to memory-not by marks they bear, But by the thoughts that were created there. Pleasant it was to view the sea-gulls strive Against the storm, or in the ocean dive, With eager scream; or when they dropping gave Their closing wings to sail upon the wave: Then as the winds and waters raged around, And breaking billows mixed their deafening sound, They on the rolling deep securely hung, And calmly rode the restless waves among. Nor pleased it less around me to behold Far up the beach the yeasty sea-foam rolled; Or from the shore upborne, to see on high CRABBE. A REFLECTION AT SEA. EE how beneath the moonbeam's smile Yon little billow heaves its breast; And foams and sparkles for a while, And murmuring then subsides to rest! Thus man, the sport of bliss and care, MOORE. A REFLECTION AT SEA. 39OW richly glows the water's breast Before us, tinged with evening hues, While, facing thus the crimson west, The boat her silent course pursues! And see, how dark the backward stream! A little moment past, so smiling! And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam, Some other loiterers beguiling. Such views the youthful bard allure; But heedless of the following gloom, He deems their colours shall endure Till peace go with him to the tomb. WORDSWORTH. |