3974 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 Boston Library Consortium IVIember Libraries 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/seashorecollectiOOgodd 
 
Sea and Shore. 
 
 ^ ^tiWtttim at Poems. 
 
 ' The current sweeps the old world, I 
 
 The current sweeps the new ; 
 The wind will blow, the dawn will glow, 
 
 Ere thou hast sailed them through." i 
 
 Charles Kingsley. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1874. 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 
 In the ofl6ce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 X4X^\ 
 
 Cambridge: 
 Press of John Wilson and Son. 
 
AND ever^ as he travelled^ he would cli7nb 
 
 The farthest mountain; yet the heavenly chime j 
 The 7nighty tolling of the far-off spheres 
 Beating their pathway^ never touched his ears. 
 But wheresoe' er he rose the heavens rose^ 
 And the far-gazing mountain could disclose 
 Nought but a wider earth ; until one height 
 Showed hiin the ocean stretched in liquid lights 
 And he could hear its multitudinozis roar, 
 Its plunge and hiss upon the pebbled shore. 
 Then Jiibal silent sat, and touched his lyre no more. 
 
 He thought, " This world is great : but I ajn weak, 
 And where the sky bends is no solid peak 
 To give 7ne footing', but, instead, this 7nain, 
 Like 7nyriad 7naddened horses ihunderi7ig o'er the 
 plain?'' 
 
 George Eliot 
 
SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 THE DESCENT OF NEPTUNE. 
 
 From the Iliad of Homer, Book XIII. 
 
 "^rO careless watch the monarch Neptune kept: 
 
 ■^ ^ Wond'ring he viewed the battle where he sat 
 
 Aloft on wooded Samos' topmost peak, 
 
 Samos, of Thrace ; whence Ida's heights he saw, 
 
 And Priam's city, and the ships of Greece. 
 
 Thither ascended from the sea, he sat ; 
 
 And thence the Greeks by Trojans overborne 
 
 Pitying he saw, and deeply wroth with Jove. 
 
 Then down the mountain's craggy side he passed 
 
 With rapid step ; and, as he moved along, 
 
 Beneath the immortal feet of Ocean's Lord 
 
 Quaked the huge mountain and the shadowy wood. 
 
 Three strides he took ; the fourth he reached his goal, 
 
 Aigae, where on the margin of the bay 
 
 His temple stood, all ghttering, all of gold 
 
 Imperishable ; there arrived, he yoked 
 
 Beneath his car the brazen-footed steeds, 
 
 Of swiftest flight, with manes of flowing gold. 
 
 All clad in gold, the golden lash he grasped, 
 
 Of curious work, and, mounting on his car. 
 
 Skimmed o'er the waves ; from all the depths below 
 
2 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Gambolled around the monsters of the deep, 
 Acknowledging their king ; the joyous sea 
 Parted her waves ; swift flew the bounding steeds ; 
 Nor was the brazen axle wet with spray, 
 When to the ships of Greece their Lord they bore. 
 Down in the deep recesses of the sea 
 A spacious cave there is, which lies midway 
 'Twixt Tenedos and Imbros' rocky isle ; 
 Earth-shaking Neptune there his coursers stayed. 
 Loosed from the chariot, and before them placed 
 Ambrosial provender ; and round their feet 
 Shackles of gold, which none might break or loose, 
 That there they might await their Lord's return ; 
 Then to the Grecian army took his way. 
 
 Lord Derbv 
 
 THE DESCENT OF NEPTUNE. 
 
 From the Iliad of Homer, Book XIII. 
 
 'T^HE monarch Neptune kept no idle watch ; 
 ■*• For he in Thracian Samos, dark with woods, 
 Aloft upon the highest summit sat, 
 O'erlooking thence the tumult of the war ; 
 For thence could he behold the Idaean mount, 
 And Priam's city, and the Grecian fleet. 
 There, coming from the ocean deeps, he sat. 
 And pitied the Greek warriors put to rout 
 Before the Trojans, and was wroth with Jove. 
 Soon he descended from those rugged steeps, 
 
THE ARGONAUTS. 3 
 
 And trod the earth with rapid strides ; the hills 
 And forests quaked beneath the immortal feet 
 Of Neptune as he walked. Three strides he took, 
 And at the fourth reached Aegae, where he stopped, 
 And where his sumptuous palace halls were built, 
 Deep down in ocean, golden, glittering, proof 
 Against decay of time. These when he reached, 
 He yoked his swift and brazen-footed steeds. 
 With manes of flowing gold, to draw his car. 
 And put on golden mail and took his scourge 
 Wrought of fine gold, and climbed the chariot seat 
 And rode upon the waves. The whales came forth 
 From their deep haunts, and frolicked round his way. 
 They knew their king. The ^vaves rejoicing smoothed 
 A path, and rapidly the coursers flew ; 
 Nor was the brazen axle wet below, 
 And thus they brought him to the Grecian fleet. 
 
 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 VISIT OF THE ARGONAUTS TO THE CAVE 
 OF CHIRON. 
 
 From Onomacritus. 
 
 nPHEN with a whistling breeze did Juno fill the 
 -^ sail, 
 
 And Argo self-impelled shot swift before the gale. 
 The kings with nerve and heart the oar unwearied 
 
 plied ; 
 Ploughed by the keel, foamed white the immeasurable 
 
 tide. 
 
4 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 But when from Ocean's streams the sacred dawn 
 
 appeared, 
 And morning's pleasant light both gods and mortals 
 
 cheered ; 
 Then, from the shore, the rocks and windy summits 
 
 high 
 Of wood-topt Pelion reared their beacon midst the sky. 
 The helm, with both his hands, the pilot Tiphys held ; 
 The vessel cut the wave, with quiet course impelled ; 
 Then swift they neared the shore, the wooden ladder 
 
 cast. 
 And forth the heroes leaped, relieved from labors past. 
 
 Sir C. a. Elton. 
 
 THE SAILING OF THE ARGO. 
 
 From Pindar. 
 
 A ND soon as by the vessel's bow 
 ■^ ^ The anchor was hung up ; 
 Then took the leader on the prow. 
 In hands, a golden cup ; 
 And on great father Jove did call ; 
 And on the winds, and waters all 
 Swept by the hurrying blast ; 
 And on the nights and ocean ways ; 
 And on the fair auspicious days, 
 And sweet return at last. 
 From out the clouds, in answer kind, 
 A voice of tliunder came ; 
 And shook in glistering beams around, 
 
THE CALM OF EVENING. 5 
 
 Burst out the lightning flame. 
 
 The chiefs breathed free, and at the sign 
 
 Trusted in the power divine. 
 
 Hinting sweet hopes, the seer cried, 
 
 Forthwith their oars to ply ; 
 
 And swift went backward from rough hands 
 
 The rowing ceaselessly. 
 
 H. F. Gary. 
 
 ON THE TOMB OF A SHIPWRECKED 
 
 MARINER. 
 
 From Posidippus. 
 
 A H, why, my brother mariner, so near the boister- 
 •^ ^ ous wave 
 
 Of ocean have ye hollowed out my solitary grave ? 
 'Twere better much that far from hence a sailor's tomb 
 
 should be. 
 For I dread my rude destroyer, I dread the roaring sea. 
 But may the smiles of fortune, may love and peace 
 
 await 
 All ye that shed a tear for poor Nicetas' hapless fate ! 
 
 THE CALM OF EVENING. 
 
 From Ennius. 
 
 npHE heaven's vast world stood silent; Neptune 
 
 gave 
 A hushful pause to ocean's roughening wave ; 
 The sun curbed his swift steeds ; the eternal floods 
 Stood still ; and not a breath was on the woods. 
 
 William Peter. 
 
SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 DANAE. 
 
 From Simonides. In the metre of the original. 
 
 "D Y the billows and blast driven and tost in the gloom 
 
 -^ Of the tempest-night, cowering in terror 
 
 Sat she, and clasped to her arms httle Perseus, 
 
 And wept sore, many a moan uttering, 
 
 In anguish of heart : O my darling child, 
 
 Misery crushes me ; but in soft slumber reposing 
 
 Carest thou not, fearest thou nought, innocent one ! 
 
 Here, in the cold, rayless, desolate gloom. 
 
 Warm is thy rest, fair is thy couch, royal its hue — 
 
 beautiful face ! 
 Couldst thou but know what is thy dreadful doom, 
 Hadst thou an ear ready to listen 
 To these my words — Nay, thou shalt sleep, — baby 
 
 shall sleep ! 
 Fall asleep, thou mighty ocean ! sleep, O my misery ! 
 In vain they weave their wicked plans, O Father ! 
 Wilt thou not — Zeus, I beseech ! — destroy all they 
 
 have willed ? 
 For the child I pray ; fearless, I claim — vengeance ! 
 
 D. F. L. 
 
 DANAE. 
 
 From Simonides. 
 
 'T^HERE was once a carven ark adrift on a stormy 
 -^ sea; 
 
 And the wind in each crevice shrieked, and Danae 
 cowering there. 
 
BY THE SEA. 7 
 
 With the spray on her cheeks and screening her Per- 
 seus motherly, 
 
 Crooned him a song like this in the midst of her de- 
 spair : 
 
 " O baby, mother is full of heavy care ; but thou 
 
 Hast sucked thyself asleep and liest without a dream, 
 
 In the dismal brass-bound house, where on thy quiet 
 brow 
 
 Strikes through the murky gloom the night-lamp's fitful 
 gleam. 
 
 And the wind pipes loud and shrill, and the wave goes 
 o'er thy head ; 
 
 But thou dost not heed it, sweet, — thy clustering curls 
 are dry. 
 
 Beautiful little face all swathed in its mantle red ! 
 
 Ah, if thou didst but know my harrowing misery ! 
 
 Heardest a tithe of my complaints ! — hush, dear ; 
 
 And hush, thou noisy sea ! and sleep, my sorrow wild ! 
 
 And baffle their counsel, father Zeus, who left us here ! 
 
 Nay, I am bold to say, be just to the blameless child ! " 
 
 H. w. p. 
 
 WOULD GOD I WERE NOW BY THE SEA! 
 
 From Euripides. 
 
 TT70ULD God I were now by the sea! 
 
 ' ^ By the winding wet-worn caves, 
 By the ragged rents of the rocks ! 
 
 And that there as a bird I might be 
 White-winged with the sea-skimmings flocks ; 
 
8 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Where the spray and the breeze blow free 
 
 O'er the ceaseless mirth of the waves, 
 
 And dishevel their loose gray locks. 
 I would spread my wings to the moist, salt air, 
 And my wide white wings should carry me 
 
 Lifted up out over the sea, — 
 
 Carry I heed not where, 
 
 Somewhither far away. 
 Somewhither far from my hateful home. 
 Where the breast of the breeze is sprinkled with spray, 
 Where the restless deep is maddened with glee ; 
 
 Over the waves' wild ecstasy, 
 
 Through the wild blown foam ! 
 
 W. H. M. 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 From Moschus. 
 
 O'ER the smooth main, when scarce a zephyr blows 
 To break the dark blue ocean's deep repose, 
 I seek the calmness of the breathing shore. 
 Delighted with the fields and woods no more. 
 
 But when white-foaming heave the deeps on high, 
 Swells the black storm and mingles sea with sky, 
 Trembling I fly the wild tempestuous strand, 
 And seek the close recesses of the land. 
 
 Sweet are the sounds that murmur through the wood, 
 While roaring storms upheave the dangerous flood ; 
 
THE RETURN OF SPRING. 9 
 
 Then if the winds more fiercely howl, they rouse 
 But sweeter music in the pines' tall boughs. 
 
 Hard is the life the weary fisher finds, 
 Who trusts his floating mansion to the winds, 
 Whose daily food the fickle sea maintains, 
 Unchanging labor and uncertain gains. 
 
 Be mine soft sleep, beneath the spreading shade 
 Of some broad leafy plane inglorious laid, 
 Lulled by a fountain's fall that, murmuring near, 
 Soothes, not alarms, the toil-worn laborer's ear. 
 
 Robert Bland. 
 
 THE RETURN OF SPRING TO THE 
 SAILOR. 
 
 From Philostratiis. 
 
 TTASTE to the port ! The twittering swallow calls^ 
 ■*• -*• Again returned ; the wintry breezes sleep ; 
 The meadows laugh ; and warm the zephyr falls 
 On ocean's breast, and calms the fearful deep. 
 
 Now spring your cables, loiterers ! Spread your sails ! 
 
 O'er the smooth surface of the water roam ! 
 So shall your vessel glide with friendly gales, 
 
 And fraught with foreign treasure waft you home. 
 
lO SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 THE LOOSING OF THE WINDS. 
 
 From the ^Eneid of Virgil, Book I. 
 
 TTE said, and with his spear struck wide 
 
 -'- -^ The portals of the mountain side. 
 
 At once, like soldiers in a band, 
 
 Forth rush the winds, and scour the land ; 
 
 Then hghting heavily on the main. 
 
 East, South, and West, with storms in train, 
 
 Heave from its depth the watery floor, 
 
 And roll great billows to the shore. 
 
 Then come the clamour and the shriek, 
 
 The sailors shout, the main-ropes creak : 
 
 All in a moment sun and skies 
 
 Are blotted from the Trojans' eyes ; 
 
 Black night is brooding o'er the deep, 
 
 Sharp thunder peals, live hghtnings leap ; 
 
 The stoutest warrior holds his breath. 
 
 And looks as on the face of death. 
 
 At once ^neas thrilled with dread : 
 
 Forth from his breast, with hands outspread, 
 
 These groaning words he drew : 
 
 " O happy thrice and yet again. 
 
 Who died at Troy like valiant men. 
 
 E'en in their parents' view ! 
 O Diomed, first of Greeks in fray. 
 Why pressed I not the plain that day, 
 
 Yielding my hfe to you, 
 
THE LOOSING OF THE WINDS. Ii 
 
 Where stretched beneath a Phrygian sky 
 Fierce Hector, tall Sarpedon, lie ; 
 Where Simoi's tumbles 'neath his wave 
 Shields, helms, and bodies of the brave?" 
 
 Now, howhng from the North, the gale, 
 
 While thus he moans him, strikes his sail ; 
 
 The swelling surges climb the sky ; 
 
 The shattered oars in splinters fly ; 
 
 The prow turns round, and to the tide 
 
 Lays broad and bare the vessel's side ; 
 
 On comes a billow, mountain-steep, 
 
 Bears down, and tumbles in a heap. 
 
 These stagger on the billows' crest; 
 
 Those to the yawning depth deprest 
 
 See land appearing 'mid the wavesj 
 
 While surf with sand in turmoil raves. 
 
 Three ships the South has caught and thrown 
 
 On scarce-hid rocks, as Altars known, 
 
 Ridging the main, a reef of stone. 
 
 Three more fierce Eurus from the deep, 
 
 A sight to make the gazer weep, 
 
 Drives on the shoals, and banks them round 
 
 With sand, as with a rampire-mound. 
 
 One, which erewhile from Lycia's shore 
 
 Orontes and his people bore, 
 
 E'en in Eneas' anguished sight, 
 
 A sea down crashing from the height 
 
 Strikes full astern ; the pilot, torn 
 
 From off the helm, is headlong borne ; 
 
 Three turns the foundered vessel gave, 
 
 Then sank beneath the engulfing wave. 
 
12 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 There in the vast abyss are seen 
 The swimmers, few and far between ; 
 And warriors' arms and shattered wood 
 And Trojan treasures strew the flood. 
 And now Ilioneus, and now 
 
 Aletes old and gray, 
 Abas and brave Achates bow 
 
 Beneath the tempesfs sway ; 
 Fast drinking in through timbers loose 
 At every pore the fatal ooze, 
 
 Their sturdy barks give way. 
 
 John Conington. 
 
 THE LOOSING OF THE WINDS. 
 
 From the ^Eneid of Virgil, Book I. 
 
 'TPHUS having said, with his inverted spear 
 
 ■^ He smote the hollow mountain on the side. 
 Then forth the winds, like some great marching host. 
 Vent being given, rush turbulent, and blow 
 In whirling storm abroad upon the lands : 
 Down pressing on the sea from lowest depths 
 Upturned, Eurus and Notus all in one 
 Blowing, and Africus with rainy squalls, 
 Dense on the vast waves rolling to the shore. 
 Then follow clamoring shouts of men, and noise 
 Of whisthng cordage. On a sudden, clouds 
 Snatch from the Trojans all the light of day 
 And the great sky. Black night lies on the sea. 
 
THE LOOSING OF THE WINDS. 13 
 
 The thunder rolls ; the incessant lightnings flash ; 
 And to the crews all bodes a present death. 
 Eneas' limbs relax with sudden cold ; 
 Groaning, his hands he stretches to the stars. 
 "Oh, thrice and four times happy they," he cries, 
 " To whom befell beneath Troy's lofty walls 
 To encounter death before their fathers' eyes ! 
 O Diomed, thou bravest of the Greeks, 
 Why could I not have fallen on Ilium's fields, 
 Pouring my warm life out beneath thy hand ? 
 Where valiant Hector lies, by Achilles' spear 
 Slain, and where tall Sarpedon was overthrown, — 
 Where Simois rolls along, bearing away 
 Beneath his waves so many shields and casques, 
 So many corpses of brave heroes slain ! " 
 
 Thus while he cried aloud, a roaring blast 
 
 From out the north strikes full against the sails, 
 
 And the waves touch the stars : the oars are snapped; 
 
 The ship swings round, and gives to the waves its side. 
 
 A steep and watery mountain rolls apace : 
 
 Some on its summit hang ; and some beneath 
 
 Behold the earth between the yawning waves ; 
 
 Mingled with sand the boiling waters hiss. 
 
 On hidden rocks three ships the south wind hurls. 
 
 Rocks by the Italian sailors Altars called; 
 
 A vast ridge on a level with the sea. 
 
 TliTee others by the East wind from the deep 
 
 Are driven upon the quicksands and the shoals, — 
 
 Dreadful to see, — upon the shallows dashed, 
 
 And girt around by drifting heaps of sand. 
 
14 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 One, that conveyed the Lycians, and that bore 
 
 Faithful Orontes, there, before his eyes, 
 
 A huge sea from above strikes on the stern. 
 
 Dashing the pilot headlong on die waves. 
 
 Three times the surges whirl the ship around, 
 
 I n the swift vortex of the sea engulfed ; 
 
 Then scattered swimmers in the vast abyss 
 
 Are seen, and arms and planks and Trojan spoils. 
 
 Now the strong ship of Dioneus, now 
 
 Of brave Achates, and the barks that bore 
 
 Abas and old Aletes, are overwhelmed. 
 
 And all their yawning sides with loosened joints 
 
 Drink in the bitter drench. 
 
 Christopher Pearse Cranch. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE ARGONAUTS. 
 
 From "The Life and Death of Jason." 
 
 /^ BITTER sea, tumultuous sea, 
 
 ^-^ Full many an ill is wrought by thee ! 
 
 Unto the wasters of the land 
 
 Thou boldest out thy wrinkled hand ; 
 
 And when they leave the conquered town. 
 
 Whose black smoke makes thy surges brown. 
 
 Driven betwixt thee and the sun. 
 
 As the long day of blood is done. 
 
 From many a league of glittering waves 
 
 Thou smilest on them and their slaves. 
 
THE SONG OF THE ARGONAUTS. 15 
 
 The thin, bright-eyed Phenician 
 Thou drawest to thy waters wan ; 
 With ruddy eve and golden morn 
 Thou temptest him, until forlorn, 
 Unburied under alien skies 
 Cast up ashore his body lies. 
 Yea, whoso sees thee from his door 
 Must ever long for more and more ; 
 Nor will the beechen bowl suffice, 
 Or homespun robe of little price, 
 Or hood well-woven of the fleece 
 Undyed, or unspiced wine of Greece ; 
 So sore his heart is set upon 
 Purple and gold and cinnamon ; 
 For, as thou cravest, so he craves, 
 Until he rolls beneath thy waves. 
 Nor in some land-locked unknown bay 
 Can satiate thee for one day. 
 
 Now therefore, O thou bitter sea. 
 With no long words we pray to thee. 
 But ask thee, hast thou felt before 
 Such strokes of the long ashen oar ? 
 And hast thou yet seen such a prow 
 Thy rich and niggard waters plow ? 
 Nor yet, O sea, shalt thou be cursed, 
 If at thy hands we gain the worst, 
 And, wrapped in water, roll about 
 Blind-eyed, unheeding song or shout, 
 Within thine eddies far from shore. 
 Warmed by no sunlight any more. 
 
;i6 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Therefore indeed we joy in thee, 
 And praise thy greatness, and will we 
 Take at thy hands both good and ill. 
 Yea, what thou wilt, and praise thee still. 
 Enduring not to sit at home 
 And wait until the last days come. 
 When we no more may care to hold 
 White bosoms under crowns of gold, 
 And our dull hearts no longer are 
 Stirred by the clangorous noise of war, 
 And hope within our souls is dead 
 And no joy is remembered. 
 
 So, if thou hast a mind to slay, 
 Fair prize thou hast of us to-day ; 
 And if thou hast a mind to save. 
 Great praise and honor shalt thou have : 
 But whatso thou wilt do with us, 
 Our end shall not be piteous. 
 Because our memories shall live 
 When folk forget the way to drive 
 The black keel through the heaped-up sea, 
 And half dried up thy waters be. 
 
 William Morris. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE SIRENS. 
 
 From "The Life and Death of Jason." 
 
 A LAS ! poor souls and timorous, 
 -^-^ Will ye draw nigh to gaze at us 
 And see if we are fair indeed. 
 For such as we shall be your meed. 
 
THE SONG OF THE SIRENS. 17 
 
 There, where our hearts would have you go. 
 
 And where can the earth-dwellers show 
 
 In any land such loveliness 
 
 As that wherewith your eyes we bless, 
 
 O wanderers of the Minyas, 
 
 Worn toilers over land and sea ? 
 
 If ye be bold with us to go, 
 Things such as happy dreams may show 
 Shall your once heavy eyes behold 
 About our palaces of gold ; 
 Where waters 'neath the waters run, 
 And from o'erhead a harmless sun 
 Gleams through the woods of chrysolite. 
 There gardens fairer to the sight 
 Than those of the Phaeacian king 
 Shall ye behold ; and, wondering, 
 Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers, 
 And thornless and unchanging bowers. 
 Whereof the May-time knoweth nought. 
 % So to the pillared house being brought, 
 
 w Poor souls, ye shall not be alone ; 
 
 For o'er the floors of pale blue stone 
 
 All day such feet as ours shall pass. 
 
 And, 'twixt the glimmering walls of glass, 
 
 Such bodies garlanded with gold. 
 
 So faint, so fair, shall ye behold. 
 
 And clean forget the treachery 
 
 Of changing earth and tumbling sea. 
 
 Shall we not rise with you at night. 
 Up through the shimmering green twilight. 
 
l8 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 That maketh there our changeless day ; 
 Then going through the moonhght gray, 
 Shall we not sit upon those sands, 
 To think upon the troublous lands 
 Long left behind, where once ye were, 
 When every day brought change and fear ? 
 There, with white arms about you twined, 
 And shuddering somewhat at the wind 
 That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet. 
 Be happy, while old stories sweet. 
 Half-understood, jfloat round your ears, 
 And fill your eyes with happy tears. 
 
 Ah ! while we sing unto you there, 
 As now we sing, with yellow hair 
 Blown round about these pearly limbs, 
 While underneath the gray sky swims 
 The light shell-sailor of the waves. 
 And, to our song, from sea-filled caves 
 Booms out an echoing harmony. 
 Shall ye not love the peaceful sea ? 
 
 Come to the land where none grows old 
 And none is rash or overbold, 
 Nor any noise there is, or war, 
 Or rumor from wild lands afar, 
 Or plagues, or birth and death of kings ; 
 No vain desire of unknown things 
 Shall vex you there, no hope or fear 
 Of that which never draweth near ; 
 But in that lovely land and still 
 Ye may remember what ye will, 
 
THE LOTUS-EATERS. 19 
 
 And what ye will, forget for aye. 
 
 So, while the kingdoms pass away, 
 Ye sea-beat, hardened toilers, erst 
 Unresting, for vain fame athirst. 
 Shall be at peace for evermore, 
 With hearts fulfilled with Godlike lore 
 And calm unwavering Godlike love. 
 No lapse of time can turn or move. 
 There, ages after your fair fleece 
 Is clean forgotten, yea, and Greece 
 Is no more counted glorious, 
 Alone with us, alone with us, 
 Alone with us dwell happily, 
 Beneath our trembhng roof of sea. 
 
 William Morris. 
 
 THE LOTOS-EATERS. 
 
 " /"^OURAGE," he said, and pointed towards the 
 
 ^ land, 
 " This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon." 
 In the afternoon they came unto a land 
 In which it seemed always afternoon. 
 All round the coast the languid air did swoon, 
 Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. 
 Full-faced above the valley shone the moon ; 
 And, hke a downward smoke, the slender stream 
 Along the cliif to fall, and pause and fall, did seem. 
 
 A land of streams ! Some, Hke a downward smoke, 
 Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go ; 
 
20 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And some through wavering h'ghts and shadows broke, 
 
 RolHng a slumberous sheet of foam below. 
 
 They saw the gleaming river seaward flow 
 
 From the inner land : far off, three mountain-tops, 
 
 Three silent pinnacles of aged snow, 
 
 Stood sunset-flushed; and, dewed with showery drops, 
 
 Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse. 
 
 The charmdd sunset lingered low adown 
 
 In the red West •, through mountain clefts the dale 
 
 Was seen far inland, and the yellow down 
 
 Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale 
 
 And meadow set with slender galingale ; 
 
 A land where all things always seemed the same ! 
 
 And round about the keel with faces pale. 
 
 Dark faces pale against that rosy flame. 
 
 The mild-eyed, melancholy Lotos-eaters came. 
 
 Branches they bore of that enchanted stem 
 Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave 
 To each ; but whoso did receive of them 
 And taste, to him the gushing of the wave 
 Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave 
 On alien shores ; and if his fellow spake. 
 His voice was thin as voices from the grave ; 
 And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake, 
 And music in his ears his beating heart did make. 
 
 They sat them down upon the yellow sand, 
 Between the sun and moon, upon the shore ; 
 And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland, 
 Of child, and wife, and slave ; — but evermore 
 
SAPPHO. 21 
 
 Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar, 
 Weary the wandering fields of barren foam. 
 Then some one said, " We will return no more," 
 And all at once they sang, " Our island-home 
 Is far beyond the wave ; we will no longer roam." 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 OHE lay among the myrtles on the clifif ; 
 
 *^ Above her glared the noon ; beneath, the sea. 
 
 Upon the white horizon Athos' peak 
 
 Weltered in burning haze : all airs were dead ; 
 
 The cicale slept among the tamarisk's hair ; 
 
 The birds sat dumb and drooping. Far below 
 
 The lazy sea-weed gHstened in the sun ; 
 
 The lazy sea-fowl dried their steaming wings ; 
 
 The lazy swell crept whispering up the ledge. 
 
 And sank again. Great Pan was laid to rest ; 
 
 And Mother Earth watched by him as he slept, 
 
 And hushed her myriad children for awhile. 
 
 She lay among the myrtles on the cliff ; 
 
 And sighed for sleep, for sleep that would not hear, 
 
 But left her tossing still ; for night and day 
 
 A mighty hunger yearned within her heart. 
 
 Till all her veins ran fever, and her cheek, 
 
 Her long thin hands, and ivory-channell'd feet, 
 
 Were wasted with the wasting of her soul. 
 
 Then peevishly she flung her on her face, 
 
 And hid her eyeballs from the blinding glare, 
 
i2 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And fingered at the grass, and tried to cool 
 Her crisp hot hps against the crisp hot sward : 
 And then she raised her head, and upward cast 
 Wild looks from homeless eyes, whose liquid light 
 Gleamed out between deep folds of blue-black hair, 
 As gleam twin lakes between the purple peaks 
 Of deep Parnassus, at the mournful moon. 
 Beside her lay her lyre. She snatched the shell, 
 And waked wild music from its silver strings ; 
 Then tossed it sadly by. — " Ah, hush ! " she cries, 
 " Dead offspring of the tortoise and the mine ! 
 Why mock my discords with thine harmonies ? 
 Although a thrice-Olympian lot be thine. 
 Only to echo back in every tone 
 The moods of nobler natures than thine own." 
 
 Charles Kingsley. 
 
 THE FISHERMAN'S HUT. 
 
 From Stolle. 
 
 " C^O, boy, and light the torch ! the night 
 
 ^-^ Is damp and dark and drear : 
 Thy father sails from foreign lands, 
 His ship must soon be near." 
 
 The boy sets fire to the torch, 
 
 And hastens to the strand; 
 The storm-wind howls, the rain pours down, 
 
 The torch dies in his hand. 
 
THE FISHERMArrS HUT. 23 
 
 The boy flies homeward : " Mother dear, 
 
 Send me not out again ! 
 •The storm did howl, and the wind did blow. 
 
 And the torch went out in the rain." 
 
 " O sailor's blood ! O sailor's blood ! 
 
 No sailor's blood art thou ! 
 What cares a brisk young sailor's blood 
 
 How wild the tempests blow ! " 
 
 The boy sets fire to the torch, 
 
 He hastens to the shore ; 
 The tempest howls, the rain pours down, 
 
 The torch goes out once more. 
 
 The boy flies home : " O mother dear, 
 
 Send me not to the strand ! 
 There's a white woman sitting there, 
 
 And beckoning with her hand ! " 
 
 " O sailor's blood ! O sailor's blood ! 
 
 No sailor's blood art thou ! 
 Naught does the brave warm sailor's blood 
 
 For mermaid care, I trow ! " 
 
 The boy sets fire to the torch. 
 
 And hastens to the shore ; 
 The tempest howls, the rain pours down. 
 
 The torch dies yet once more. 
 
 The boy flies home : " O mother, go 
 
 Thyself now to the shore ! 
 I hear a voice Hke father's rise 
 
 Through all the ocean's roar." 
 
24 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 The mother quickly lifts the torch, 
 
 And sets the hut on fire ; 
 The tempest howls, the lurid flame 
 
 Shines brighter, broader, higher. 
 
 " What hast thou done ? O mother, woe ! 
 
 Hear'st thou the tempest's roar ! 
 How cold the night, how dark and wild, — 
 
 And we've a home no more." 
 
 " O sailor's blood ! O sailor's blood ! 
 
 No sailor's blood art thou ! 
 Boy, when no other torch will burn, 
 
 The hut shines well, I trow." 
 
 The father safely steers his ship 
 
 Right to the blazing strand, 
 Weathers the ledges all, and soon 
 
 In safety reached the land. 
 
 C. T. Brooks. 
 
 COUNT ARNALDOS. 
 
 A literal translation in the metre of the original. 
 
 WHO had ever such adventure, 
 On the waters of the sea, 
 As had once the Count Arnaldos 
 On the morning of Saint John ? 
 He was going to the hawking. 
 With a falcon on his wrist, 
 
COUNT ARNALDOS, 25 
 
 When at sea he saw a galley 
 Slowly drawing near the land. 
 All her sails of woven silk were ; 
 Glistening silk the cordage all ; 
 And the mariner who steered her 
 Ever sang so sweet a song 
 That it held the billows quiet, 
 And it pacified the wind, 
 And the fishes rose to listen, 
 And the birds lit on the mast. 
 " Galley," sang he, " O my galley, 
 May God keep thee from all harm, 
 From all dangers that await thee 
 On the waters of the sea ; 
 From the shallows of Almeria, 
 From Gibraltar's narrow strait, 
 From the stormy gulf of Leon, 
 And the false Venetian sea ; 
 From the sunken reefs of Flanders, 
 Where the peril is most dire." 
 Then spake out the Count Arnaldos 
 (You shall hear the words he said) : 
 " In the name of God, O seaman, 
 Sing to me again this song ! " 
 Then the mariner made answer, 
 And his answer was but this : 
 " I can tell this song to no one. 
 Save to him who sails with me." 
 
26 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 COUNT ARNALDOS. 
 
 From the Spanish. 
 I. 
 
 TT 7H0 had ever such adventure, 
 
 ' ^ Holy priest or virgin nun, 
 As befel the Count Arnaldos 
 At the rising of the sun ? 
 
 II. 
 
 On h's wrist the hawk was hooded, 
 Forth with hern and hound went he. 
 
 When he saw a stately galley 
 Sailing on the silent sea. 
 
 III. 
 Sail of sattin, mast of cedar ; 
 
 Burnished poop of beaten gold, — 
 Many a morn you'll hood your falcon. 
 
 Ere you such a bark behold. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sails of sattin, masts of cedar, 
 Golden poops, may come again ; 
 
 But mortal ear no more shall listen 
 To yon gray-haired sailor's strain. 
 
 V. 
 Heart may beat, and eye may glisten. 
 
 Faith is strong, and hope is free ; 
 But mortal ear no more shall listen 
 
 To the song that rules the sea. 
 
COUNT ARNALDOS. 27 
 
 When the gray-haired sailor chanted, 
 Every wind was hush'd to sleep, — 
 
 Like a virgin's bosom panted 
 All the wide reposing deep. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bright in beauty rose the star-fish 
 From her green cave down below. 
 
 Right above the eagle poised him, — 
 Holy music charmed them so. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Stately galley ! glorious galley ! 
 
 God hath pour'd his grace on thee ! 
 Thou alone may'st scorn the perils 
 
 Of the dread devouring sea ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 " False Almeria's reefs and shallows, 
 Black Gibraltar's giant rocks, 
 
 Sound and sand-bank, gulf and whirlpool, 
 All — my glorious galley mocks ! " 
 
 X. 
 
 " For the sake of God our maker ! " 
 (Count Arnaldos' cry was strong,) 
 
 " Old man, let me be partaker 
 In the secret of thy song ! " 
 
28 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Count Arnaldos ! Count Arnaldos ! 
 
 Hearts I read, and thoughts I know ; — 
 Would'st thou learn the ocean secret, 
 
 In our galley thou must go." 
 
 J. G. LOCKHART. 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE SEA. 
 
 A H ! what pleasant visions haunt me, 
 ■^ ^ As I gaze upon the sea ! 
 All the old romantic legends, 
 All my dreams come back to me. 
 
 Sails of silk and ropes of sendal, 
 Such as gleam in ancient lore ; 
 
 And the singing of the sailors. 
 And the answer from the shore ! 
 
 Most of all, the Spanish ballad 
 Haunts me oft, and tarries long, 
 
 Of the noble Count Arnaldos 
 And the sailor's mystic song. 
 
 Like the long waves on a sea-beach, 
 Where the sand as silver shines, 
 
 With a soft, monotonous cadence, 
 Flow its unrhymed lyric lines : — 
 
THE SECRET OF THE SEA. 29 
 
 Telling how the Count Arnaldo^, 
 
 With his hawk upon his hand, 
 Saw a fair and stately galley, 
 
 Steering onward to the land ; — 
 
 How he heard the ancient helmsman 
 
 Chant a song so wild and clear, 
 That the saiHng sea-bird slowly 
 
 Poised upon the mast to hear, 
 
 Till his soul was full of longing. 
 
 And he cried, with impulse strong, — 
 
 " Helmsman ! for the love of heaven. 
 Teach me, too, that wondrous song ! " 
 
 "Would'st thou," so the helmsman answered, 
 
 " Learn the secret of the sea ? 
 Only those who brave its dangers 
 
 Comprehend its mystery ! " 
 
 In each sail that skims the horizon. 
 
 In each landward-blowing breeze, 
 I behold that stately galley. 
 
 Hear those mournful melodies ; 
 
 Till my soul is full of longing 
 
 For the secret of the sea. 
 And the heart of the great ocean 
 
 Sends a thrilhng pulse through me. 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 
 
30 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 FAR, FAR AWAY, ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 Theodore Aubenel. 
 
 "CTAR, far away, across the sea, 
 
 •^ In the still hours when I sit dreaming, 
 
 Often and often I voyage in seeming. 
 
 And sad is the heart I bear with me 
 
 Far, far away, across the sea. 
 
 Yonder toward the Dardanelles, 
 I follow the vessels disappearing. 
 Slender masts to the sky uprearing. 
 Follow her, whom I love so well. 
 Yonder toward the Dardanelles. 
 
 With the great clouds I go astray, — 
 These by the shepherd-wind are driven 
 Across the shining stars of heaven, 
 In snowy flocks, and go their way, 
 And with the clouds I go astray. 
 
 I take the pinions of the swallow. 
 For the fair weather ever yearning, 
 And swiftly to the sun returning. 
 So swiftly I my darling follow 
 Upon the pinions of the swallow. 
 
 Home-sickness hath my heart possessed, 
 For now she treads an alien strand. 
 And for that unknown fatherland 
 I long as a bird for her nest. 
 Home-sickness hath my heart possessed. 
 
THE KING OF THULE. 31 
 
 From wave to wave the salt sea over, 
 Like a pale corpse I alway seem, 
 On-floating in a deathlike dream, 
 Even to the feet of my sweet lover. 
 From wave to wave the salt sea over. 
 
 Now I am lying on the shore, 
 Till my love lifts me mutely weeping, 
 And takes me in her tender keeping. 
 And lays her hand my still heart o'er, 
 And calls me from the dead once more. 
 
 H. w. P. 
 
 THE KING OF THULE. 
 
 Goethe. 
 
 'T^HERE was a king in Thule 
 
 •*■ Was faithful till the grave, — 
 To whom his mistress, dying, 
 A golden goblet gave. 
 
 Naught was to him more precious ; 
 He drained it at every bout : 
 His eyes with tears ran over. 
 As oft as he drank thereout. 
 
 When came his time of dying, 
 The towns in his land he told. 
 Naught else to his heir denying 
 Except the goblet of gold. 
 
32 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 He sat at the royal banquet 
 With his knights of high degree. 
 In the lofty hall of his fathers, 
 In the castle by the sea. 
 
 There stood the old carouser, 
 And drank the last Hfe glow ; 
 And hurled the hallowed goblet 
 Into the tide below. 
 
 He saw it plunging and filling, 
 And sinking deep in the sea : 
 Then fell his eyelids forever, 
 And never more drank he. 
 
 Bayard Taylor. 
 
 THE SWALLOW. 
 
 F. Grossi. 
 
 O WALLOW from beyond the sea! 
 *^ That, with every dawning day, 
 Sitting on the balcony, 
 
 Utterest that plaintive lay. 
 What is that thou tellest me 
 Swallow from beyond the sea? 
 
 Haply thou for him who went 
 From thee and forgot his mate 
 
 Dost lament to my lament, 
 Widowed, lonely, desolate. 
 
 Even then lament with me, 
 
 Swallow from beyond the sea ! 
 
THE SWALLOW. 2)Z 
 
 Happier yet art thou than I : 
 Thee thy trusty wings may bear, 
 
 Over lake and chff to fly, 
 
 Filling with thy cries the air. 
 
 Calling him continually. 
 
 Swallow from beyond the sea ! 
 
 Could I too ! — but I must pine 
 
 In this dungeon dark and low, 
 Where the sun can never shine. 
 
 Where the breeze can never blow. 
 Whence my voice scarce reaches thee, 
 Swallow from beyond the sea ! 
 
 Now September days are near, 
 
 Thou to distant lands wilt fly ; 
 In another hemisphere 
 
 Other streams shall hear thy cry, 
 Other hills shall answer thee, 
 Swallow from beyond the sea ! 
 
 Then shall I, when daylight grows, 
 
 Waking to the sense of pain, 
 'Mid the wintry frosts and snqws 
 
 Think I hear thy notes again, — 
 Notes that seem to grieve for me. 
 Swallow from beyond the sea ! 
 
 Planted here upon the ground, 
 Thou shalt find a cross in spring : 
 
 3 
 
34 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 There, as evening gathers round, 
 
 Swallow, come and rest thy wing ; 
 Chant a strain of peace to me, 
 Swallow from beyond the sea ! 
 
 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 o 
 
 THE SEA. 
 
 From the German. 
 
 SEA, in evening's glow, 
 
 Upon thy tranquil breast, 
 After long storm and woe 
 I breathe a heavenly rest. 
 
 Thy troubled heart forgets 
 The weary war of yore, 
 
 Its moans and drear regrets 
 Are melody once more. 
 
 Barely one voiceless thought 
 May through the spirit float, 
 
 As on the silent sea 
 A solitary boat. 
 
 M. C. Pike. 
 
 KING CHRISTIAN. 
 
 A national song of Denmark. By Ewald. 
 
 T^ ING Christian stood by the lofty mast 
 -■-^ In mist and smoke ; 
 His sword was hammering so fast. 
 Through Gothic helm and brain it passed ; 
 Then sank each hostile hulk and mast, 
 
KING CHRISTIAN. 35 
 
 In mist and smoke. 
 •' Fly ! " shouted they, "fly, he who can ! 
 Who braves of Denmark's Christian 
 
 The stroke ? " 
 
 Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, 
 
 Now is the hour ! 
 He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, 
 And smote upon the foe full sore, 
 And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar, 
 
 " Now is the hour ! " 
 " Fly ! " shouted they, " for shelter fly ! 
 Of Denmark's Juel who can defy 
 
 The power ? " 
 
 North Sea ! a glimpse of Wessel rent 
 
 Thy murky sky ! 
 Then champions to thine arms were sent ; 
 Terror and Death glared where he went, 
 From the waves was heard a wail, that rent 
 
 Thy murky sky ! 
 From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol' ; 
 Let each to Heaven commend his soul, 
 
 And fly ! 
 
 Path of the Dane to fame and might ! 
 
 Dark-rolhng wave ! 
 Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight. 
 Goes to meet danger with despite, 
 Proudly as thou the tempest's might, 
 
36 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Dark-rolling wave ! 
 
 And amid pleasures and alarms, 
 
 And war and victory, be thine arms 
 
 My grave ! 
 
 H. W. Longfellow. 
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 A.D. 1400. 
 I. 
 
 TT was Earl Haldan's daughter, 
 -*■ She looked across the sea ; 
 She looked across the water. 
 And long and loud laughed she : 
 " The locks of six princesses 
 Must be my marriage fee : 
 So, hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat, 
 Who comes a-wooing me ! " 
 
 II. 
 It was Earl Haldan's daughter. 
 She walked along the sand. 
 When she was aware of a knight so fair. 
 Come sailing to the land. 
 His sails were all of velvet. 
 His mast of beaten gold, 
 And " Hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat, 
 Who saileth here so bold ? " 
 
 III. 
 " The locks of five princesses 
 I won beyond the sea ; 
 I shore their golden tresses 
 To fringe a cloak for thee. 
 
THE WATER-MAN. 37. 
 
 One handful yet is wanting, - . ■ 
 
 But one of all the tale ; 
 So, hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat, 
 Furl up thy velvet sail ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 He leapt into the water, 
 That rover young and bold ; 
 He gript Earl Haldan's daughter, 
 He shore her locks of gold : ' 
 
 " Go weep, go weep, proud maiden. 
 The tale is full to-day. ' 
 
 Now, hey, bonny boat, and ho, bonny boat, 
 Sail Westward ho, and away ! " 
 
 Charles Kingsley. 
 
 THE WATER-MAN. 
 
 An old Danish ballad. 
 
 "O 
 
 MOTHER, rede me well, I pray, 
 How shall I woo me yon winsome May ? " 
 
 She has built him a horse of the water clear, 
 The saddle and bridle of sea-sand were. 
 
 He has donned the garb of a knight so gay. 
 And to Mary's kirk he has ridden away. 
 
 He tied his steed to the chancel door. 
 
 And he stepped round the kirk three times and four. 
 
 He has boune him into the kirk, and all 
 Drew near to gaze on him, great and small. 
 
38 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 The priest he was standing in the quire : — 
 
 *' What gay young gallant comes branking here ? " 
 
 The winsome maid, to herself said she, 
 
 " Oh, were that gay young gallant for me ! " 
 
 He stepped o'er one stool, he stepped o'er two : 
 " O maiden, plight me thine oath so true ! " 
 
 He stepped o'er three stools, he stepped o'er four : 
 " Wilt be mine, sweet May, for evermore ? " 
 
 She gave him her hand of the drifted snow : 
 
 " Here hast thou my troth, and with thee I'll go." 
 
 They went from the kirk with the bridal train ; 
 They danced in glee, and they danced full fain ; 
 
 They danced them down to the salt-sea strand. 
 And they left them standing there, hand in hand. 
 
 " Now wait thee, love, with my steed so free, 
 And the bonniest bark I'll bring for thee." 
 
 And when they passed to the white, white sand, 
 The ships came sailing on to the land ; 
 
 But when they were out in the midst of the sound, 
 Down went they all in the deep profound ! 
 
 Long, long on the shore, when the winds were high. 
 They heard from the waters the maiden's cry. 
 
 I rede ye, damsels, as best I can. 
 
 Tread not the dance with the Water-man ! 
 
 Theodore Marth*. 
 
BLACK-EYED SUSAN. 39 
 
 SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO 
 BLACK-EYED SUSAN. 
 
 \ LL in the Downs the fleet was moored, 
 "^ *■ The streamers waving in the wind, 
 When black-eyed Susan came aboard. 
 
 " Oh, where shall I my true-love find ? 
 Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, 
 If my sweet William sails among your crew." 
 
 WiUiam, who high upon the yard 
 Rocked with the billows to and fro, 
 
 Soon as her well-known voice he heard, 
 He sighed and cast his eyes below ; 
 
 The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, 
 
 And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. 
 
 So the sweet lark, high poised in air, 
 Shuts close his pinions to his breast, 
 
 If chance his mate's shrill call he hear, 
 And drops at once into her nest. 
 
 The noblest captain in the British fleet 
 
 Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet. 
 
 " O Susan, Susan, lovely dear, 
 
 My vows shall ever true remain ; 
 Let me kiss off that falling tear ; 
 
 We only part to meet again. 
 Change as ye list, ye winds : my heart shall be 
 The faithful compass that still points to thee. 
 
40 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 " Believe not what the landsmen say, 
 
 Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind : 
 
 They'll tell thee sailors when away 
 In every port a mistress find. 
 
 Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so^ 
 
 For thou art present wheresoe'er I go. 
 
 " If to fair India's coast we sail, 
 
 Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, 
 
 Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale. 
 Thy skin is ivory so white. 
 
 Thus every beauteous object that I view 
 
 Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. 
 
 "Though battle call me from thy arms, 
 
 Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; 
 Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms ;_ 
 
 William shall to his dear return. 
 Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, • 
 Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye." 
 
 The boatswain gave the dreadful word. 
 The sails their swelling bosom spread ; 
 
 No longer must she stay aboard ; 
 
 They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head. 
 
 Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land : 
 
 " Adieu ! " she cries, and waved her hly hand. 
 
 John Gay. 
 
THE BALLAD OF THE BOAT. 4.1 
 
 ■ THE BALLAD OF THE BOAT. 
 
 'T^HE stream was smooth as glass ; we said, " Arise, 
 ^ and let's away ! " 
 The Siren sang beside the boat that in the rushes lay ; 
 And spread the sail and strong the oar, we gayly took 
 
 our way. 
 When shall the sandy bar be crossed ? when shall we- 
 
 find the bay ? 
 
 The broadening flood swells slowly out o'er cattle- 
 dotted plains, 
 
 The stream is strong and turbulent, and dark with 
 heavy rains ; 
 
 The laborer looks up to see our shallop speed away. 
 
 When shall the sandy bar be crossed ? when shall we 
 find the bay ? 
 
 Now are the clouds like fiery shrouds ; the sun, su- 
 ' ■ perbly large, ^ 
 
 Slow as an oak to woodman's stroke, sinks flaming at 
 
 their marge ; 
 The waves are bright with mirrored light as jacinths 
 
 on our way. 
 Wlien shall the sandy bar be crossed ? when shall we 
 
 find the bay 1 
 
 The moon is high up in the sky, and now no mbre we 
 
 see 
 The spreading river's either bank, and surging dis- 
 ' tantly 
 
42 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 There booms a sullen thunder, as of breakers far away. 
 Now shall the sandy bar be crossed, now shall we find 
 the bay ! 
 
 The sea-gull shrieks high overhead, and dimly to out 
 
 sight 
 The moonlit crests of foaming waves gleam towering 
 
 through the night. 
 We'll steal upon the mermaid soon, and start her from 
 
 her lay. 
 When once the sandy bar is crossed, and we are in the 
 
 bay. 
 
 What rises white and awfiil as a shroud-enfolded 
 
 ghost ? 
 What roar of rampant tumult bursts in clangor on the 
 
 coast ? 
 Pull back ! pull back ! The raging flood sweeps every 
 
 oar away. 
 O stream, is this thy bar of sand ? O boat, is this the 
 
 bay? 
 
 R. Garrett. 
 
 THE SEA-MAID. 
 
 A MAIDEN came gliding o'er the sea, 
 •^ ^ In a boat as light as boat could be ; 
 And she sang in tones so sweet and free, 
 " Oh, where is the youth that will follow me ? 
 
LANDING OF PILGRIM FATHERS. 43 
 
 Her forehead was white as the pearly shell, 
 And in flickering waves her ringlets fell, 
 Her bosom heaved with a gentle swell, 
 And her voice was a distant vesper bell. 
 
 And still she sang, while the western light 
 Fell on her figure so soft and bright. 
 " Oh, where shall I find the brave young sprite 
 That will follow the track of my skiff to-night ? " 
 
 To the strand the youths of the village run, 
 When the witching song has scarce begun. 
 And ere the set of that evening sun 
 Fifteen bold lovers the maid has won. 
 
 They hoisted the sail, and they plied the oar, 
 And away they went from their native shore, 
 While the damsel's pinnace flew fast before. 
 But never, O never we saw them more ! 
 
 John Sterling. 
 
 THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM 
 FATHERS. 
 
 nr^HE breaking waves dashed high 
 
 On a stern and rock-bound coast. 
 And the woods against a stormy sky 
 Their giant branches tossed; 
 
 And the heavy night hung dark 
 
 The hills and waters o'er, 
 When a band of exiles moored their bark 
 
 On the wild New England shore. 
 
44 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Not as the conqueror comes, 
 
 They, the true-hearted, came, — 
 Not with the roll of the stirring drums. 
 
 And the trumpet that sings of fame ; 
 
 Not as the flying come. 
 
 In silence and in fear, — 
 They shook the depths of the desert gloom 
 - With their hymns of lofty cheer. 
 
 Amidst the storm they sang. 
 
 And the stars heard, and the sea ; 
 
 And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
 To the anthem of the free. 
 
 The ocean-eagle soared 
 
 From his nest by the white wave's foam, 
 And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — 
 
 This was their welcome home. 
 
 There were men with hoary hair 
 
 Amidst that pilgrim band ; 
 Why had they come to wither there, 
 
 Away from their childhood's land ? 
 
 There was woman's fearless eye, 
 
 Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
 There was manhood's brow serenely high, 
 
 And the fiery heart of youth. 
 
 What sought they thus afar ? 
 
 Bright jewels of the mine ? 
 The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? — 
 
 They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 
 
SA£> RHYME OF THE PROUD MEN. '45 
 
 Ay, call it holy ground, 
 
 The soil where first they trod ; — 
 They have left unstained what there they found, — 
 
 Freedom to worship God. 
 
 Felicia Hemans. 
 
 The sad rhy7ne of the men who proudly clung . 
 To their first faulty and withered in their prideP 
 
 From Paracelsus. 
 
 /^VER the sea our galleys went, 
 
 ^-^ With cleaving prows in order brave, 
 
 To a speeding wind and a bounding wave, — 
 
 A gallant armament : 
 Each bark built out of a forest tree. 
 Left leafy and rough as first it grew, 
 And nailed all over the gaping sides, 
 Within and without, with black-bull hides, 
 Seethed in fat and suppled in flame. 
 To bear the playful billows' game. 
 So each good ship was rude to see, 
 Rude and bare to the outward view. 
 
 But each upbore a stately tent ; 
 Where cedar pales in scented row 
 Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine : 
 And an awning drooped the mast below, 
 In fold on fold of the purple fine. 
 That neither noon-tide, nor star-shine, 
 Nor moonhght cold which maketh mad. 
 
 Might pierce the regal tenement. 
 
46 SEA A//D SHORE. 
 
 When the sun dawned, oh, gay and glad 
 We set the sail and plied the oar ; 
 But when the night-wind blew like breath, 
 For joy of one day's voyage more, 
 We sang together on the wide sea. 
 Like men at peace on a peaceful shore ; 
 Each sail was loosed to the wind so free, 
 Each helm made sure by the twilight star, 
 And in a sleep as calm as death, 
 We, the strangers from afar. 
 
 Lay stretched along, each weary crew 
 In a circle round its wondrous tent, 
 Whence gleamed soft light and curled rich scent, 
 
 And, with Hght and perfume, music too : 
 So the stars wheeled round, and the darkness past, 
 And at morn we started beside the mast, 
 And still each ship was sailing fast ! 
 
 One morn the land appeared ! — a speck 
 Dim trembling betwixt sea and sky. 
 " Avoid it," cried our pilot, " check 
 
 The shout, restrain the longing eye ! " 
 But the heaving sea was black behind 
 For many a night and many a day. 
 And land, though but a rock, drew nigh ; 
 So we broke the cedar pales away, 
 Let the purple awning flap in the wind, 
 
 And a statue bright was on every deck ! 
 We shouted, every man of us, 
 And steered right into the harbor thus, 
 With pomp and paean glorious. 
 
SAD RHYME OF THE PROUD MEN. 47 
 
 An hundred shapes of lucid stone ! 
 
 All day we built a shrine for each, — 
 A shrine of rock for every one, — 
 Nor paused we, till in the westering sun 
 
 We sate together on the beach 
 To sing, because our task was done ; 
 When lo ! what shouts and merry songs ! 
 What laughter all the distance stirs ! 
 What raft comes loaded with its throngs 
 Of gentle islanders ? 
 
 "The isles are just at hand," they cried; 
 " Like cloudlets faint at even sleeping, 
 Our temple-gates are opened wide. 
 
 Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping 
 For the lucid shapes you bring," they cried. 
 Oh, then we awoke with sudden start 
 From our deep dream ; we knew, too late. 
 How bare the rock, how desolate, 
 To which we had flung our precious freight : 
 Yet we called out, " Depart ! 
 
 Our gifts, once given, must here abide : 
 Our work is done ; we have no heart 
 To mar our work, though vain," we cried. 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
,48 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 HERVE KIEL. 
 
 /^N the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred 
 ^-^ ninety-two, 
 
 Did the EngHsh fight the French, — woe to France ! 
 And the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the 
 
 blue. 
 Like a crowd of fi-ightened porpoises a shoal of sharks 
 
 pursue, 
 Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the 
 
 Ranee, 
 With the English fleet in view. 
 
 'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in 
 full chase : 
 First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, 
 Damfreville ; 
 Close on him fled, great and small, 
 Twenty-two good ships in all ; 
 And they signalled to the place, 
 *' Help the winners of a race ! 
 
 Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick ; or, 
 
 quicker still. 
 Here's the Enghsh can and will ! " 
 
 Then the pilots of the place put out brisk, and leaped on 
 board : 
 " Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to 
 pass 1 " laughed they : 
 
HERVE RIEL. 49 
 
 Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage 
 
 scarred and scored, 
 Shall the ' Formidable,' here, with her twelve and eighty 
 guns, 
 Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow 
 way. 
 Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty 
 tons, 
 And with flow at full beside ? 
 Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide. 
 Reach the mooring ? Rather say, 
 While rock stands, or water runs, 
 Not a ship will leave the bay ! " 
 
 Then was called a council straight : 
 Brief and bitter the debate. 
 
 " Here's the English at our heels : would you have 
 - " them take in tow 
 
 All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and 
 
 bow. 
 For a prize to Plymouth sound ? 
 fetter run the ships aground ! " 
 
 (Ended Damfreville his speech.) 
 " Not a minute more to wait ! 
 
 Let the captains all and each 
 
 Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the 
 beach ! 
 France must undergo her fate ! " 
 
 *' Give the word ! " But no such word 
 Was ever spoke or heard : 
 
 For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, amid all 
 these, — 
 
50 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 A captain ? a lieutenant ? a mate, — first, second, third ? 
 No such man of mark, and meet 
 With his betters to compete ! 
 But a simple Breton sailor, pressed by Tourville 
 for the fleet, 
 A poor coasting-pilot he, — Herve Riel the Croisick- 
 
 And " What mockery or mahce have we here ?" cried 
 Herve Riel. 
 ** Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you cowards, 
 fools, or rogues ? 
 Talk to me of rocks and shoals ? — me, who took the 
 
 soundings, tell 
 On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell, 
 'Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river 
 disembogues ? 
 Are you bought for English gold ? Is it love the 
 lying's for ? 
 Morn and eve, night and day, 
 Have I piloted your bay, 
 Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. 
 Burn the fleet, and ruin France ? That were worse 
 than fifty Rogues ! 
 Sirs, they know I speak the truth ! Sirs, believe 
 me, there's a way ! 
 Only let me lead the line. 
 
 Have the biggest ship to steer, 
 Get this ' Formidable ' clear, 
 Make the others follow mine, 
 
 And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know 
 well, 
 
HERVE RIEL. 5 1 
 
 Right to Solidor past Greve, 
 
 And there lay them safe and sound ; 
 And, if one ship misbehave, — 
 
 Keel so much as grate the ground, — 
 Why, I've nothing but my life : here's my head ! " cries 
 Herve Riel. 
 
 Not a minute more to wait. 
 
 " Steer us in, then, small and great ! 
 
 Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron ! " 
 cried its chief. 
 Captains, give the sailor place ! 
 
 He is admiral, in brief. 
 Still the north-wind, by God's grace. 
 See the noble fellow's face. 
 As the big ship, with a bound, 
 Clears the entry like a hound, 
 
 Keeps the passage, as its inch of way were the wide 
 sea's profound ! 
 
 See, safe through shoal and rock, 
 
 How they follow in a flock ; 
 Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the 
 ground, 
 
 Not a spar that comes to grief ! 
 The peril, see, is past ! 
 All are harbored to the last ! 
 And, just as Hervd Riel hollas " Anchor ! " sure as 
 
 fate, 
 Up the EngHsh come, — too late ! 
 
 So the storm subsides to calm : 
 They see the green trees wave 
 
52 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 On the heights overlooking Greve ; 
 Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. 
 " Just our rapture to enhance, 
 
 Let the English rake the bay, 
 Gnash their teeth, and glare askance 
 
 As they cannonade away ! 
 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the 
 
 Ranee ! " 
 How hope succeeds despair on each captain's coun- 
 tenance ! 
 Out burst all with one accord, 
 
 "This is paradise for hell ! 
 Let France, let France's king, 
 Thank the man that did the thing ! " 
 What a shout, and all one word, 
 
 " Herve Kiel ! " 
 As he stepped in front once more ; 
 
 Not a symptom of surprise 
 
 In the frank blue Breton eyes, — 
 Just the same man as before. ; 
 
 Then said Damfreville, " My friend, 
 I must speak out at the end. 
 
 Though I find the speaking hard : 
 Praise is deeper than the lips : 
 You have saved the king his ships ; 
 
 You must name your own reward. 
 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! 
 Demand whate'er you will, 
 France remains your debtor still. 
 
 Ask to heart's content, and have ! or my name's not 
 Damfreville." 
 
HERV& KIEL. 53 
 
 Then a beam of fun outbroke 
 On the bearded mouth that spoke, 
 As the honest heart laughed through 
 Those frank eyes of Breton blue : — 
 " Since I needs must say my say ; 
 
 Since on board the duty's done, 
 
 And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point what is it 
 but a run ? — 
 Since 'tis ask and have, I may ; 
 
 Since the others go ashore, — 
 Come ! A good whole holiday ! 
 
 Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle 
 Aurore ! " 
 
 That he asked, and that he got, — nothing more. 
 
 Name and deed alike are lost : 
 Not a pillar nor a post 
 
 In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell ; 
 Not a head in white and black 
 On a single fishing-smack 
 
 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to 
 wrack 
 
 All that France saved from the fight whence England 
 bore the bell. 
 Go to Paris ; rank on rank 
 
 Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
 On the Louvre, face and flank : 
 
 You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervd 
 Kiel. 
 So, for better and for worse, 
 Hervd Riel, accept my verse ! 
 
54 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 In my verse, Hervd Riel, do thou once more 
 Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the 
 Belle Aurore ! 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 THE "GRAY SWAN." 
 
 " /^H, tell me, sailor, tell rrie true, 
 ^-^ Is my little lad, my Elihu, 
 A-sailing with your ship ? " 
 
 The sailor's eyes were dim with dew. 
 
 " Your little lad, your Elihu ? " 
 He said with trembhng hp, — 
 " What little lad ? what ship ? " 
 
 " What little lad ? as if there could be 
 
 Another such a one as he ! 
 What little lad, do you say ? 
 
 Why, Elihu, that took to the sea 
 
 The moment I put him off my knee ! 
 It was just the other day 
 The ' Gray Swan ' sailed away." 
 
 " The other day ? " The sailor's eyes 
 
 Stood open with a great surprise : 
 " The other day ? the ' Swan ' ? " 
 
 His heart began in his throat to rise. 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir, here in the cupboard lies 
 The jacket he had on," 
 " And so your lad is gone ? " 
 
THE ''GRAY swan:' 55 
 
 " Gone with the ' Swan ' ? " — " And did she stand 
 With her anchor clutching hold of the sand 
 
 For a month, and never stir ? " 
 "Why, to be sure ! I've seen from the land, 
 Like a lover kissing his lady's hand, 
 
 The wild sea kissing her, — 
 
 A sight to remember, sir ! " 
 
 " But, my good mother, do you know 
 All this was twenty years ago ? 
 
 I stood on the ' Gray Swan's ' deck, 
 And to that lad I saw you throw, 
 Taking it off as it might be, — so ! — 
 
 The kerchief from your neck." 
 
 " Ay, and he'll bring it back ! " 
 
 " And did the httle lawless lad. 
 
 That has made you sick and made you sad, 
 
 Sail with the ' Gray Swan's ' crew ? " 
 " Lawless ! The man is going mad ! 
 The best boy ever mother had ! — 
 
 Be sure he sailed with the crew ! 
 
 What would you have him do ? " 
 
 " And has he never written line, 
 
 Nor sent you word, nor made you sign. 
 
 To say he was alive ? " 
 " Hold ! If 'twas wrong, the wrong is mine ; 
 Besides, he may lie in the brine ; 
 
 And could he write from the grave ? 
 
 Tut, man ! what would you have ? " 
 
56 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 " Gone twenty years, — a long, long cruise ! 
 'Twas wicked thus your love to abuse ! 
 
 But if the lad still live. 
 And come back home, think you you can 
 Forgive him ? " — " Miserable man 1 
 
 You're mad as the sea, you rave ! 
 
 What have I to forgive ? " 
 
 The sailor twitched his shirt so blue, 
 And from within his bosom drew 
 
 The kerchief. She was wild. 
 " O God, my Father ! is it true ? 
 My little lad, my Elihu ! 
 
 My blessed boy, my child ! 
 
 My dead, my hving child ! " 
 
 Alice Gary. 
 
 THE PHANTOM SHIP. 
 
 TN Mather's "Magnalia Christi,'"' 
 
 Of the old colonial time, 
 May be found in prose the legend 
 That is here set down in rhyme. 
 
 A ship sailed from New Haven, 
 And the keen and frosty airs, 
 
 That filled her sails at parting. 
 
 Were heavy with good men's prayers. 
 
 " O Lord ! if it be thy pleasure " — 
 Thus prayed the old divine — 
 
 "To bury our friends in the ocean, 
 Take them, for thev are thine ! " 
 
THE PHANTOM SHIP. 57 
 
 But Master Laniberton muttered, 
 
 And under his breath said he, 
 " This ship is so crank and walty, 
 
 I fear our grave she will be ! " 
 
 And the ships that came from England, 
 When the winter months were gone. 
 
 Brought no tidings of this vessel, 
 Nor of Master Lamberton. 
 
 This put the people to praying 
 That the Lord would let them hear 
 
 What in his greater wisdom 
 
 He had done with friends so dear. 
 
 And at last their prayers were answered : 
 
 It was in the month of June, 
 An hour before the sunset 
 
 Of a windy afternoon, 
 
 When, steadily steering landward, 
 
 A ship was seen below, 
 And they knew it was Lamberton, Master, 
 
 Who sailed so long ago. 
 
 On she came, with a cloud of canvas, 
 Right against the wind that blew, 
 
 Until the eye could distinguish 
 The faces of the crew. 
 
 Then fell her straining topmasts, 
 
 Hanging tangled in the shrouds, 
 And her sails were loosened and lifted. 
 
 And blown away like clouds. 
 
58 , SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And their masts, with all their rigging, 
 
 Fell slowly, one by one, 
 And the hulk dilated and vanished, 
 
 As a sea-mist in the sun ! 
 
 And the people who saw this marvel 
 
 Each said unto his friend. 
 That this was the mould of their vessel, 
 
 And thus her tragic end. 
 
 And the pastor of the village 
 
 Gave thanks to God in prayer. 
 That, to quiet their troubled spirits, 
 
 He had sent this Ship of Air. 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 
 
 THE FORSAKEN MERMAN. 
 
 /^^OME, dear children, let us away ! 
 ^^ Down and away below. 
 Now my brothers call from the bay ; 
 Now the great winds shorewards blow ; 
 Now the salt tides seawards flow ; 
 Now the wild white horses play, 
 Champ and chaff and toss in the spray. 
 
 Children dear, let us away ; 
 
 This way, this way. 
 
 Call her once before you go. 
 Call once yet. 
 
THE FORSAKEN MERMAN, $9 
 
 In a voice that she will know : 
 
 " Margaret ! Margaret ! " 
 Children's voices should be dear 
 (Call once more) to a mother's ear ; 
 Children's voices wild with pain. 
 
 Surely she will come again. 
 Call her once, and come away ; 
 
 This way, this way. 
 " Mother dear, we cannot stay," 
 The wild white horses foam and fret, 
 
 Margaret ! Margaret ! 
 
 Come, dear children, come away down. 
 
 Call no more. 
 One last look at the white-walled town, 
 And the little gray church on the windy shore, 
 
 Then come down. 
 She will not come, though you call all day. 
 
 Come away, come away. 
 
 Children dear, was it yesterday 
 
 We heard the sweet bells over the bay ; 
 In the caverns where we lay. 
 Through the surf and through the swell, 
 
 The far-off sound of a silver bell 1 
 
 Sand-strewn caverns cool and deep. 
 
 Where the winds are all asleep ; 
 
 Where the spent lights quiver and gleam ; 
 
 Where the salt weed sways in the stream ; 
 
 Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round. 
 
 Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground ; 
 
6o SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, 
 Dry their mail, and bask in the brine ; 
 Where great whales come sailing by, 
 Sail and sail, with unshut eye, 
 Round the world for ever and aye ? 
 
 When did music come this way ? 
 
 Children dear, was it yesterday ? 
 Children dear, was it yesterday 
 (Call yet once) that she went away ? 
 Once she sat with you and me, 
 
 On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, 
 
 And the youngest sat on her knee. 
 She combed its bright hair and she tended it well, 
 When down swung the sound of the far-off bell ; 
 She sighed, she looked up through the clear green sea ; 
 She said, " I must go, for my kinsfolk pray 
 In the Httle gray church on the shore to-day. 
 'Twill be Easter-time in the world — ah me ! 
 And I lose my poor soul, merman, here with thee." 
 I said, " Go up, dear heart, through the waves ; 
 Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves." 
 She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay ; 
 
 Children dear, was it yesterday ? 
 
 Children dear, were we long alone ? 
 " The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan ; 
 Long prayers," I said, " in the world they say. 
 Come," I said, and we rose through the surf in the 
 
 bay. 
 We went up the beach in the sandy down 
 Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white -walled town, 
 
THE FORSAKEN MERMAN. 6r 
 
 Through the narrow-paved streets where all was still, 
 
 To the little gray church on the windy hill. 
 
 From the church came a murmur of folk at their 
 
 prayers, 
 But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. 
 We climbed on the graves, on the stones worn with 
 
 rains. 
 And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded 
 panes. 
 
 She sat by the pillar ; we saw her clear ; 
 
 " Margaret, hist ! come quick, we are here. 
 
 Dear heart," I said, " we are here alone ; 
 
 The sea grows stormy, the httle ones moan." 
 But ah ! she gave me never a look. 
 For her eyes were sealed to the holy book. 
 
 " Loud prays the priest ; shut stands the door," 
 Come away, children, call no more. 
 Come away, come down, call no more. 
 
 Down, down, down, 
 Down to the depths of the sea ; 
 She sits at her wheel in the humming town, 
 
 Singing most joyfully. 
 Hark what she sings : " O joy, O joy. 
 For the humming street, and the child with its toy, 
 For the priest and the bell, and the holy well, 
 For the wheel where I spun, 
 And the blessed light of the sun." 
 And so she sings her fill. 
 Singing most joyfully. 
 Till the sliuttle falls from her hand, 
 And the whizzing wheel stands still. 
 
62 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 She steals to the window and looks at the sand ; 
 
 And over the sand at the sea ; 
 
 And her eyes are set in a stare ; 
 
 And anon there breaks a sigh, 
 
 And anon there drops a tear, 
 
 From a sorrow-clouded eye, 
 
 And a heart sorrow-laden, 
 A long, long sigh. 
 For the cold strange eyes of a little mermaiden, 
 And tlie gleam of her golden hair. 
 
 Come away, away, children, 
 Come, children, come down. 
 The hoarse wind blows colder ; 
 Lights shine in the town. 
 She will start from her slumber 
 When gusts shake the door ; 
 She will hear the winds howling. 
 Will hear the waves roar ; 
 We shall see, while above us 
 The waves roar and whirl, 
 A ceihng of amber, 
 A pavement of pearl. 
 Singing, " Here came a mortal, 
 But faithless was she, 
 And alone dwell for ever 
 The kings of the sea." 
 
 But children, at midnight. 
 When soft the winds blow. 
 When clear falls the moonhght, 
 When spring-tides are low, 
 
THE DEAD SHIP OF HARPS WELL, (>Z 
 
 When sweet airs come seaward 
 From heaths starred with broom, 
 And high rocks throw mildly 
 On the blanched sands a gloom ; 
 Up the still, glistening beaches, 
 Up the creeks we will hie ; 
 Over banks of bright seaweed 
 The ebb-tide leaves dry. 
 We will gaze from the sand-hills. 
 At the white sleeping town ; 
 At the church on the hill-side, — 
 
 And then come back, down. 
 Singing, " There dwells a loved one, 
 
 But cruel is she ; 
 
 She left lonely for ever 
 
 The kings of the sea." 
 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 THE DEAD SHIP OF HARPSWELL. 
 
 TT THAT flecks the outer gray beyond 
 
 ^ * The sundown's golden trail ? 
 The white flash of a sea-bird's wing, 
 
 Or gleam of slanting sail ? 
 Let young eyes watch from Neck and Point, 
 
 And sea-worn elders pray, — 
 The ghost of what was once a ship 
 
 Is saihng up the bay ! 
 
64 . SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 From gray sea-fog, from icy drift, 
 
 From peril and from pain, 
 The home-bound fisher greets thy h'ghts, 
 
 O hundred-harbored Maine ! 
 But many a keel shall seaward turn. 
 
 And many a sail outstand, 
 When, tall and white, the Dead Ship looms 
 
 Against the dusk of land. 
 
 She rounds the headland's bristling pines ; 
 
 She threads the isle-set bay ; 
 No spur of breeze can speed her on, 
 
 Nor ebb of tide delay. 
 Old men still walk the Isle of Orr 
 
 Who tell her date and name ; 
 Old shipwrights sit in Freeport yards 
 
 Who hewed her oaken frame. 
 
 What weary doom of baffled quest, 
 
 Thou sad sea-ghost, is thine ? 
 What makes thee in the haunts of home 
 
 A wonder and a sign ? 
 No foot is on thy silent deck. 
 
 Upon thy helm no hand ; 
 No ripple hath the soundless wind 
 
 That smites thee from the land ! 
 
 For never comes the ship to port, 
 Howe'er the breeze may be ; 
 
 Just when she nears the waiting shore, ' 
 She drifts a^ain to sea. 
 
THE DEAD SHIP OF HARPS WELL. 65 
 
 No tack of sail, nor turn of helm, 
 
 Nor sheer of veering side ; 
 Stern-fore she drives to sea and night, 
 
 Against the wind and tide. 
 
 In vain o'er Harpswell Neck the star 
 
 Of evening guides her in ; 
 In vain for her the lamps are ht 
 
 Within thy tower, Seguin ! 
 In vain the harbor-boat shall hail. 
 
 In vain the pilot call ; 
 No hand shall reef her spectral sail, 
 
 Or let her anchor fall. 
 
 Shake, brown old wives, with dreary joy, 
 
 Your gray-head hints of ill ; 
 And, over sick-beds whispering low, 
 
 Your prophecies fulfil. 
 Some home amid yon birchen trees 
 
 Shall drape its door with woe ; 
 And slowly where the Dead Ship sails 
 
 The burial-boat shall row ! 
 
 From Wolf Neck and from Flying Point, 
 
 From island and from main. 
 From sheltered cove and tided creek, 
 
 Shall ghde the funeral train. 
 The dead-boat with the bearers four. 
 
 The mourners at her stern, — 
 And one shall go the silent way 
 
 Who shall no more return ! 
 5 
 
66 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And men shall sigh, and women weep, 
 
 Whose dear ones pale and pine, 
 And sadly over sunset seas 
 
 Await the ghostly sign. 
 They know not that its sails are filled 
 
 By pity's tender breath, 
 Nor see the Angel at the helm 
 
 Who steers the Ship of Death ! 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 THE "THREE BELLS." 
 
 T3ENEATH the low-hung night cloud 
 -'-^ That raked her splintering mast, 
 The good ship settled slowly. 
 The cruel leak gained fast. 
 
 Over the awful ocean 
 
 Her signal guns pealed out. 
 Dear God ! was that thy answer 
 
 From the horror round about ? 
 
 A voice came down the wild wind, 
 
 " Ho ! ship ahoy ! " its cry : 
 " Our stout ' Three Bells ' of Glasgow 
 Shall lay till daylight by ! " 
 
 Hour after hour crept slowly. 
 
 Yet on the heaving swells 
 Tossed up and down the ship-lights. 
 
 The lidits of the " Three Bells " ! 
 
THE " THREE BELLS.'' 67 
 
 And ship to ship made signals, 
 
 Man answered back to man, 
 While oft, to cheer and hearten, 
 
 The " Three Bells " nearer ran ; 
 
 And the captain from her taffrail 
 
 Sent down his hopeful cry. 
 " Take heart ! Hold on ! " he shouted, 
 
 " The ' Three Bells ' shall lay by ! " 
 
 All night across the waters 
 
 The tossing lights shone clear ; 
 All night from reeling taffrail 
 
 The " Three Bells " sent her cheer. 
 
 And when the dreary watches 
 
 Of storm and darkness passed, 
 Just as the wreck lurched under. 
 
 All souls were saved at last. 
 
 Sail on, " Three Bells," for ever, 
 
 In grateful memory sail ! 
 Ring on, "Three Bells," of rescue. 
 
 Above the wave and gale ! 
 
 Type of the Love eternal. 
 
 Repeat the Master's cry. 
 As, tossing through our darkness, 
 
 The lights of God draw nigh ! 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
68 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE. 
 
 OF all the rides since the birth of time, 
 Told in story or sung in rhyme, — 
 On Apuleius's Golden Ass, 
 Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass, 
 Witch astride on a human hack, 
 Islam's prophet on AI Borak, — 
 The strangest ride that ever was sped 
 Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead ! 
 Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, 
 Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
 By the women of Marblehead ! 
 
 Body of turkey, head of owl. 
 Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl, 
 Feathered and ruffled in every part, 
 Skipper Ireson stood in the cart. 
 Scores of women, old and young, 
 Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue, 
 Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane, 
 Shouting and singing the shrill refrain : 
 " Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 
 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt. 
 By the women o' Morble'ead ! " 
 
 Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips. 
 Girls in bloom of cheek and lips. 
 Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chase 
 Bacchus round some antique vase. 
 
SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE. 69 
 
 Brief of skirt, with ankles bare, 
 
 Loose of kerchief and loose of hair, 
 
 With conch-shells blowing and iish-horns' twang, 
 
 Over and over the Maenads sang : 
 
 " Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 
 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
 By the women o' Morble'ead ! " 
 
 Small pity for him ! — He had sailed away 
 From a leaking ship, in Chaleur bay, — 
 Sailed away from a sinking wreck. 
 With his own town's-people on her deck ! 
 " Lay by ! lay by ! " they called to him. 
 Back he answered, " Sink or swim ! 
 Brag of your catch of fish again ! " 
 And off he sailed through the fog and rain ! 
 Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, 
 Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
 By the women of Marblehead. 
 
 Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur 
 That wreck shall lie for evermore. 
 Mother and sister, wife and maid. 
 Looked from the rocks of Marblehead 
 Over the moaning and rainy sea, — 
 Looked for the coming that might not be ! 
 What did the winds and the sea-birds say 
 Of the cruel captain who sailed away ? — 
 Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, 
 Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
 By the women of Marblehead ! 
 
SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Through the street, on either side, 
 Up flew windows, doors swung wide ; 
 Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray, 
 Treble lent the fish-horn's bray. 
 Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound, 
 Hulks of old sailors run aground, 
 Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane. 
 And cracked with curses the hoarse reft-ain : 
 " Here's Flud Oirson, for his horrd horrt, 
 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
 By the women o' Morble'ead ! " 
 
 Sweetly along the Salem road 
 Bloom of orchard and Hlac showed. 
 Little the wicked skipper knew 
 Of the fields so green and the sky so blue. 
 Riding there in his sorry trim. 
 Like an Indian idol glum and grim. 
 Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear 
 Of the voices shouting, far and near : 
 
 '' Here's Flud Oirson, for his horrd horrt, 
 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
 By the women o' Morble'ead ! " 
 
 " Hear me, neighbors ! " at last he cried, — 
 " What to me is this noisy ride ? 
 What is the shame that clothes the skin 
 To the nameless horror that lives within ? 
 Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck, 
 And hear a cry from a reehng deck ! 
 Hate me and curse me, — I only dread 
 The hand of God and the face of the dead ! " 
 
THE WIVES OF BRIXHAM. 7^ 
 
 Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, 
 Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
 By the women of Marblehead. 
 
 Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea 
 Said, " God has touched him ! — why should we ?" 
 Said an old wife mourning her only son, 
 " Cut the rogue's tether and let him run ! " 
 So with soft relentings and rude excuse, 
 Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, 
 And gave him a cloak to hide him in, 
 And left him alone with his shame and sin. 
 Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart. 
 Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
 By the women of Marblehead. 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 THE WIVES OF BRIXHAM. 
 
 'VT'OU see the gentle water, 
 
 ■*• How silently it floats. 
 How cautiously, how steadily 
 
 It moves the sleepy boats ; 
 And all the little loops of pearl 
 
 It strews along the sand 
 Steal out as leisurely as leaves. 
 
 When summer is at hand. 
 
 But you know it can be angry, 
 And thunder from its rest, 
 
 When the stormy taunts of winter 
 Are flying at its breast ; 
 
72 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And if you like to listen, 
 
 And draw your chairs around, 
 
 I'll tell you what it did one night, 
 When you were sleeping sound. 
 
 The merry boats of Brixham 
 
 Go out to search the seas, — 
 A stanch and sturdy fleet are they. 
 
 Who love a swinging breeze ; 
 And before the woods of Devon, 
 
 And the silver cliffs of Wales, 
 You may see, when summer evenings fall, 
 
 The light upon their sails. 
 
 But when the year grows darker, 
 
 And gray winds hunt the foam. 
 They go back to httle Brixham, 
 
 And ply their toils at home. 
 And thus it chanced one winter's day. 
 
 When a storm began to roar. 
 That all the men were out at sea, 
 
 And all the wives on shore. 
 
 Then as the wind grew fiercer. 
 
 The women's cheeks grew white, — 
 It was f ercer in the twilight, 
 
 And fiercest in the night. 
 The strong clouds set themselves like ice, 
 
 Without a star to melt ; 
 The blackness of the darkness 
 
 Was something to be felt. 
 
THE WIVES OF BR IX HAM. 73 
 
 The storm, like an assassin, 
 
 Went on its secret way, 
 And struck a hundred boats adrift 
 
 To reel about the bay. 
 They meet, they crash, — God keep the men ! 
 
 God give a moment's light ! 
 There is nothing but the tumult, 
 
 And the tempest, and the night. 
 
 The men on shore were anxious, — 
 
 They grieved for what they knew : 
 What do you think the women did ? 
 
 Love taught them what to do ! 
 Outspoke a wife : '' We've beds at home, 
 
 We'll burn them for a light ! 
 Give us the men and the bare ground ! 
 
 We want no more to-night." 
 
 They took the grandame's blanket. 
 
 Who shivered and bade them go ; 
 They took the baby's pillow. 
 
 Who could not say them no ; 
 And they heaped a great fire on the pier, 
 
 And knew not all the while 
 If they were heaping a bonfire, 
 
 Or only a funeral pile. 
 
 And, fed with precious food, the flame 
 
 Shone bravely on the black, 
 Till a cry rang through the people, — 
 
 " A boat is coming back ! " 
 
74 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Staggering dimly through the fog, 
 
 They see, and then they doubt ; 
 But, when the first prow strikes the pier, 
 
 Cannot you hear them shout ? 
 
 Then all along the breadth of flame 
 
 Dark figures shrieked and ran, 
 With, " Child, here comes your father 1 " 
 
 Or, " Wife, is this your man ? " 
 And faint feet touch the welcome shore, 
 
 And stay a little while ; 
 And kisses drop from frozen lips, 
 
 Too tired to speak or smile. 
 
 So, one by one, they struggled in, 
 
 All that the sea would spare : 
 We will not reckon through our tears 
 
 The names that were not there ; 
 But some went home without a bed, 
 
 When all the tale was told, 
 Who were too cold with sorrow 
 
 To know the night was cold. 
 
 And this is what the men must do, 
 
 Who work in wind and foam ; 
 And this is what the women bear, 
 
 Who watch for them at home. 
 So when you see a Brixham boat 
 
 Go out to face the gales. 
 Think of the love that travels 
 
 Like light upon her sails ! 
 
 M. B. S. 
 
HANNAH BINDING SHOES. 75 
 
 HANNAH BINDING SHOES. 
 
 ■pOOR lone Hannah 
 -*■ Sitting at the window binding shoes, 
 Faded, wrinkled, — 
 Sitting, stitching in a mournful muse. 
 Bright-eyed beauty once was she. 
 When the bloom was on the tree. 
 Spring and winter 
 Hannah's at the window binding shoes. 
 
 Not a neighbor 
 Passing nod or answer will refuse 
 
 To her whisper : 
 " Is there from the fishers any news ? " 
 Oh, her heart's adrift with one 
 On an endless voyage gone ! 
 Night and morning 
 Hannah's at the window binding shoes. 
 
 Fair young Hannah 
 Ben, the sunburnt fisher, gayly wooes ; 
 
 Hale and clever. 
 For a wilhng heart and hand he sues. 
 May-day skies are all aglow. 
 And the waves are laughing so ! 
 For her wedding 
 Hannah leaves her window and her shoes. 
 
76 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 May is passing, — 
 'Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon cooes. 
 
 Hannah shudders, 
 For the wild sou'wester mischief brews. 
 Round the rocks of Marblehead, 
 Outward bound, a schooner sped. 
 Silent, lonesome, 
 Hannah's at the window binding shoes. 
 
 'Tis November, 
 Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews. 
 
 From Newfoundland 
 Not a sail returning will she lose ; 
 
 Whispering hoarsely, " Fishermen, 
 Have you, have you heard of Ben ? " 
 Old with watching, 
 Hannah's at the window binding shoes. 
 
 Twenty winters 
 Bleach and tear the ragged shore she views. 
 
 Twenty seasons : — 
 Never one has brought her any news. 
 Still her dim eyes silently 
 Chase the white sails o'er the sea. 
 Hopeless, faithful, 
 Hannah's at the window binding shoes. 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
A GREYPORT LEGEND, 77 
 
 A GREYPORT LEGEND. 
 
 'T^HEY ran through the streets of the seaport town, 
 ■*■ They peered from the decks of the ships that lay 
 The cold sea-fog that came whitening down 
 
 Was never so cold or white as they. 
 "Ho ! Starbuck, Pinckney, and Tenterden ! 
 Run for your shallops, gather your men, 
 Scatter your boats on the lower bay." 
 
 Good cause for fear 1 In the thick mid-day, 
 
 The hulk that lay by the rotting pier, 
 Filled with the children in happy play. 
 
 Parted its moorings and drifted clear, — 
 Drifted clear beyond reach or call, — 
 Thirteen children they were in all, — 
 All adrift in the lower bay ! 
 
 Said a hard-faced skipper, " God help us all ! 
 
 She will not float till the turning tide ! " 
 Said his wife, " My darling will hear 7?ty call, 
 
 Whether in sea or heaven she bide." 
 And she hfted a quavering voice and high. 
 Wild and strange as the sea-bird's cry. 
 
 Till they shuddered and wondered at her side. 
 
 The fog drove down on each laboring crew. 
 Veiled each from each, and the sky and shore. 
 
 There was not a sound but the breath they drew. 
 And the lap of water and creak of oar ; 
 
78 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And they felt the breath of the downs fresh blown 
 O'er leagues of clover and cold gray stone, 
 
 But not from the lips that had gone before. 
 
 They came no more. But they tell the tale 
 That, when fogs are thick on the harbor-reef, 
 
 The mackerel fishers shorten sail, 
 
 For the signal they know will bring relief, 
 
 For the voices of children still at play 
 
 In a phantom hulk that drifts away 
 
 Through channels whose waters never fail. 
 
 It is but a foolish shipman's tale, 
 . A theme for a poet's idle page ; 
 But still when the mists of doubt prevail, 
 
 And we he becalmed by the shores of age, 
 We hear from the misty troubled shore 
 The voice of the children gone before, 
 Drawing the soul to its anchorage. 
 
 Bret Harte 
 
 THE JUMBLIES. 
 
 From "Nonsense Songs." 
 
 'THHEY went to sea in a sieve, they did ; 
 -*- In a sieve they went to sea : 
 In spite of all their friends could say, 
 On a winter's morn, on a stormy day, 
 In a sieve they went to sea. 
 
THE yUMBLIES, 79 
 
 And when the sieve turned round and round, 
 And every one cried, " You'll all be drowned ! " 
 They called aloud, " Our sieve ain't big : 
 But we don't care a button ; we don't care a fig ; 
 In a sieve we'll go to sea ! " 
 Far and few, far and few. 
 
 Are the lands where the Jumblies live : 
 Their heads are green, and their hands are blue ; 
 And they went to sea in a sieve. 
 
 They sailed away in a sieve, they did ; 
 
 In a sieve they sailed so fast, 
 With only a beautiful pea-green veil, 
 Tied with a ribbon, by way of a sail, 
 
 To a small tobacco-pipe mast. 
 And every one said, who saw them go : 
 " Oh ! won't they be soon upset, you know : 
 For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long ; 
 And, happen what may, it's extremely wrong 
 In a sieve to sail so fast." 
 Far and few, far and few, 
 
 Are the lands where the Jumblies live : 
 Their heads are green, and their hands are blue 
 And they went to sea in a sieve. 
 
 III. 
 
 The water it soon came in, it did ; 
 
 The water it soon came in : 
 So, to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet 
 In a pinky paper, all folded neat ; 
 
 And they fastened it down with a pin. 
 
8o SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And they passed the night in a crockery-jar, 
 And each of them said, " How wise we are ! 
 Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long, 
 Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong. 
 While round in our sieve we spin." 
 Far and few, far and few. 
 
 Are the lands where the Jumblies live : 
 Their heads are green, and their hands are blue ; 
 And they went to sea in a sieve. 
 
 And all night long they sailed away ; 
 
 And, when the sun went down, 
 They whistled and warbled a moony song 
 To the echoing sound of a coppery gong, 
 
 In the shade of the mountains brown. 
 " O Timballoo ! How happy we are. 
 When we live in a sieve and a crockery-jar ! 
 And all night long, in the moonlight pale. 
 We sail away, with a pea-green sail, 
 
 In the shade of the mountains brown.' 
 Far and few, far and few, 
 
 Are the lands where the Jumblies live : 
 Their heads are green, and their hands are blue ; 
 And they went to sea in a sieve. 
 
 V. 
 
 They sailed to the Western Sea, they did, — 
 
 To a land all covered with trees : 
 And they bought an owl, and a useful cart, 
 And a pound of rice, and a cranberry tart, 
 
 And a hive of silvery bees ; 
 
THE J U MB LIES. 8 1 
 
 And they bought a pig, and some green jackdaws, 
 And a lovely monkey with lollipop paws, 
 And forty bottles of ring-bo-ree, 
 And no end of Stilton cheese. 
 Far and few, far and few, 
 
 Are the lands where the Jumblies live : 
 Their heads are green, and their hands are blue ; 
 And they went to sea in a sieve. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And in twenty years they all came back, — 
 
 In twenty years or more ; 
 And every one said, " How tall they've grown ! 
 For they've been to the Lakes and the Torrible Zone, 
 
 And the hills of the Chankly Bore." 
 And they drank their health, and gave them a feast 
 Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast ; 
 And every one said, " If we only hve, 
 We, too, will go to sea in a sieve. 
 
 To the hills of the Chankly Bore." 
 Far and few, far and few, 
 
 Are the lands where the Jumblies live : 
 Their heads are green, and their hands are blue ; 
 And they went to sea in a sieve. 
 
 Edward L^ar. 
 
82 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 OLD IRONSIDES 
 
 A Y, tear her tattered ensign down ! 
 ■^ ^ Long has it waved on high, 
 And many an eye has danced to see 
 
 That banner in the sky ; 
 Beneath it rung the battle shout, 
 
 And burst the cannon's roar ; — 
 The meteor of the ocean air 
 
 Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 
 
 Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 
 
 Where knelt the vanquished foe. 
 When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 
 
 And waves were white below, 
 No more shall feel the victor's tread 
 
 Or know the conquered knee ; — 
 The harpies of the shore shall pluck 
 
 The eagle of the sea ! 
 
 Oh, better that her shattered hulk 
 
 Should sink beneath the wave ; 
 Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 
 
 And there should be her grave ; 
 Nail to the mast her holy flag, 
 
 Set every threadbare sail, 
 And give her to the god of storms, 
 
 The lightning and the gale ! 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
THE CUMBERLAND. 83 
 
 THE CUMBERLAND. 
 
 AT anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, 
 On board the Cumberland, sloop-of-war ; 
 And at times from the fortress across the bay 
 The alarum of drums swept past, 
 Or a bugle blast 
 From the camp on the shore. 
 
 Then far away to the south uprose 
 
 A little feather of snow-white smoke, 
 And we knew that the iron ship of our foes 
 Was steadily steering its course 
 To try the force 
 Of our ribs of oak. 
 
 Down upon us heavily runs, 
 
 Silent and sullen, the floating fort ; 
 Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns, 
 And leaps the terrible death, 
 With fiery breath, 
 From each open port. 
 
 We are not idle, but send her straight 
 
 Defiance back in a full broadside ! 
 As hail rebounds from a roof of slate, 
 Rebounds our heavier hail 
 From each iron scale 
 Of the monster's hide. 
 
84 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 " Strike your flag ! " the rebel cries, 
 
 In his arrogant old plantation strain. 
 " Never ! " our gallant Morris replies : 
 
 " It is better to sink than to yield ! " 
 And the whole air pealed 
 With the cheers of our men. 
 
 Then, like a kraken huge and black, 
 
 She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp ! 
 Down went the Cumberland, all a wrack, 
 With a sudden shudder of death, 
 And the cannon's breath 
 For her dying gasp. 
 
 Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay, 
 
 Still floated our flag at the mainmast head. 
 Lord, how beautiful was Thy day ! 
 Every waft of the air 
 Was a whisper of prayer. 
 Or a dirge for the dead. 
 
 Ho ! brave hearts that went down in the seas ! 
 
 Ye are at peace in the troubled stream ; 
 Ho ! brave land ! with hearts like these, 
 Thy flag, that is rent in twain. 
 Shall be one again, 
 And without a seam ! 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. §5 
 
 YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 A Naval Ode. 
 I. 
 
 YE mariners of England, 
 That guard our native seas, 
 Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, 
 The battle and the breeze, 
 Your glorious standard launch again 
 To match another foe ! 
 And sweep through the deep 
 While the stormy tempests blow ; 
 While the battle rages loud and long. 
 And the stormy tempests blow. 
 
 II. 
 The spirits of your fathers 
 Shall start from every wave ! — 
 For the deck it was their field of fame. 
 And Ocean was their grave : 
 Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell. 
 Your manly hearts shall glow. 
 As ye sweep through the deep. 
 While the stormy tempests blow ; 
 While the battle rages loud and long. 
 And the stormy tempests blow. 
 
 III. 
 Britannia needs no bulwark, 
 No towers along the steep ; 
 Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, 
 Her home is on the deep. 
 
86 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 With thunders from her native oak, 
 She quells the floods below, 
 As they roar on the shore. 
 When the stormy tempests blow ; 
 When the battle rages loud and long, 
 And the stormy tempests blow. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The meteor flag of England 
 
 Shall yet terrific burn ; 
 
 Till danger's troubled night depart, 
 
 And the star of peace return. 
 
 Then, then, ye ocean-warriors. 
 
 Our song and feast shall flow, 
 
 To the fame of your name, 
 
 When the storm has ceased to blow ; 
 
 When the fiery fight is heard no more, 
 
 And the storm has ceased to blow. 
 
 Thomas Campbell. 
 
 LOSS OF THE "ROYAL GEORGE." 
 
 'T^OLL for the brave ! 
 -*- The brave that are no more ! 
 All sunk beneath the wave, 
 Fast by their native shore ! 
 
 Eight hundred of the brave, 
 
 Whose courage well was tried, 
 Had made the vessel keel, 
 And laid her on her side. 
 
LOSS OF THE ''ROYAL GEORGE:' 87 
 
 A land-breeze shook the shrouds, 
 And she was overset ; 
 Down went the " Royal George," 
 With all her crew complete. 
 
 Toll for the brave ! 
 Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; 
 His last sea-fight is fought, 
 His work of glory done. 
 
 It was not in the battle ; 
 No tempest gave the shock ; 
 She sprang no fatal leak, 
 She ran upon no rock. 
 
 His sword was in its sheath, 
 His fingers held the pen. 
 When Kempenfelt went down, 
 With twice four hundred men. 
 
 Weigh the vessel up. 
 Once dreaded by our foes ! 
 And mingle with our cup 
 The tear that England owes. 
 
 Her timbers yet are sound, 
 
 And she may float again, — 
 
 Full charged with England's thunder, 
 
 And plough the distant main : 
 
 But Kempenfelt is gone, 
 His victories are o'er ; 
 And he and his eight hundred 
 Shall plough the wave no more. 
 
88 SEA AND SHORE, 
 
 THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. 
 
 'T^HIS is the ship of pearl which, poets feign, 
 ■*• Sails the unshadowed main, — 
 The venturous bark that flings 
 On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings. 
 In gulfs enchanted where the siren sings. 
 And coral reefs lie bare, 
 Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming 
 hair. 
 
 Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl, — 
 
 Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! 
 
 And every chambered cell, 
 Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
 As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 
 
 Before thee lies revealed, — 
 Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed. 
 
 Year after year beheld the silent toil 
 That spread his lustrous coil ; 
 Still, as the spiral grew, 
 He left the past year's dwelling for the new, 
 Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 
 Built up its idle door, 
 Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no 
 more. 
 
 Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 
 Child of the wandering sea ! 
 Cast from her lap forlorn, 
 
A SEA-SHELL. 89 
 
 From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
 Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn. 
 While on mine ear it rings, 
 Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that 
 sings : — 
 
 Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul. 
 
 As the swift seasons roll ! 
 
 Leave thy low-vaulted past ! 
 Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
 Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 
 
 Till thou at length art free. 
 Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea ! 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 A SEA-SHELL. 
 
 O EE what a lovely shell, 
 ^^ Small and pure as a pearl, 
 Lying close to my foot. 
 
 Frail, but a work divine, 
 Made so fairily well 
 
 With dehcate spire and whorl. 
 How exquisitely minute 
 
 A miracle of design ! 
 
 The tiny cell is forlorn. 
 Void of the little living will 
 
 That made it stir on the shore. 
 Did he stand at the diamond door 
 
90 SJSA AND SHORE. 
 
 Of his house in a rainbow frill ? 
 
 Did he push, when he was uncurled, 
 A golden foot or a fairy horn 
 
 Through his dim water- world ? 
 
 Slight, to be crushed with a tap 
 
 Of my finger-nail on the sand ; 
 Small, but a work divine ; 
 
 Frail, but of force to withstand, 
 Year upon year, the shock 
 
 Of cataract seas that snap 
 The three-decker's oaken spine, 
 
 Athwart the ledges of rock. 
 Here on the Breton strand. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 A FISHING-TOWN. 
 
 QUAINT clusters of gray houses crowding down 
 Unto a river's edge ; the river wide, 
 And flecked with fishing-boats beyond the town, 
 Incoming with the slow incoming tide. 
 Moored to the old pier-end, a smack or two 
 Slow dandled by the shoreward-setting swell. 
 And with their nets with every dip wet through, 
 Show their black, pitchy ribs. Some far ship's bell 
 Comes in the capful of light wind that hails 
 
THE BELLS OF LYNN. 9^ 
 
 From seaward ; while still louder and more loud, 
 
 Beneath the lowering hood of ashen cloud, 
 
 Rings the hoarse fisher's shout. There nearing sails 
 
 Loom large and shadowy ; and the sunset gun 
 
 Tells that another day is o'er and done. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 THE BELLS OF LYNN. 
 
 r~\ CURFEW of the setting sun ! O bells of Lynn ! 
 ^^ O requiem of the dying day ! O bells of Lynn ! 
 
 From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted, 
 Your sounds aerial seem to float, O bells of Lynn ! 
 
 Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight, 
 O'er land and sea they rise and fall, O bells of Lynn ! 
 
 The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the headland, 
 Listens and leisurely rows ashore, O bells of Lynn ! 
 
 Over the shining sands, the wandering cattle home- 
 ward 
 Follow each other at your call, O bells of Lynn ! 
 
 The distant lighthouse hears, and with his flaming 
 
 signal 
 Answers you, passing the watchword on, O bells of 
 
 Lynn ! 
 
 And down the darkening coast run the tumultuous 
 
 surges. 
 And clap their hands and shout to you, O bells of 
 
 Lynn ! 
 
92 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Till from the shuddering sea, with your wild incan- 
 tations, 
 Ye summon up the spectral moon, O bells of Lynn ! 
 
 And startled at the sight, like the weird woman of 
 
 End or, 
 Ye cry aloud and then are still, O bells of Lynn ! 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 COMING HOME. 
 
 ^T^HE lift is high and blue, 
 -^ And the new moon ghnts through 
 The bonnie corn-stooks o' Strathairly ; 
 
 My ship's in Largo Bay, 
 
 And I ken it weel, — the way 
 Up the steep, steep brae of Strathairly. 
 
 When I sail'd ower the sea, — 
 
 A laddie bold and free, — 
 The corn sprang green on Strathairly ; 
 
 When I come back again, 
 
 'Tis an auld man walks his lane. 
 Slow and sad through the fields o' Strathairly. 
 
 Of the shearers that I see, 
 
 Ne'er a body kens me, 
 Though I kent them a' at Strathairly ; 
 
 And this fisher-wife I pass, 
 
 Can she be the braw lass 
 That I kiss'd at the back of Strathairly ? 
 
POMPEII. 93 
 
 Oh, the land's fine, fine ! 
 
 I could buy it a' for mine, 
 My gowd's yellow as the stooks o' Strathairly ; 
 
 But I fain yon lad wad be, 
 
 That sail'd ower the salt sea, 
 As the dawn rose gray on Strathairly. 
 
 D. M. MuLocK. 
 
 POMPEII. 
 
 'T^HE silence there was what most haunted me. 
 ■*• Long, speechless streets, whose stepping-stones 
 
 invite 
 Feet which shall never come ; to left and right 
 Gay colonnades and courts, — beyond the glee, 
 Heartless, of that forgetful Pagan sea ; 
 On roofless homes and waiting streets, the light 
 Lies with a pathos sorrowfuller than night. 
 Fancy forbids this doom of Life with Death 
 Wedded, and with her wand restores the Life. 
 The josthng throngs swarm, animate, beneath 
 The open shops, and all the tropic strife 
 Of voices, Roman, Greek, Barbarian, mix. The wreath 
 Indolent hangs on far Vesuvius' crest ; 
 And over aU the glowing town and guiltless sea, sweet 
 rest. 
 
 Thomas G- Appleton. 
 
94 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 AT DIEPPE. 
 
 'T^HE shivering column of the moonlight lies 
 -■- Upon the crumbHng sea ; 
 Down the lone shore the flying curlew cries 
 Half humanly. 
 
 With hoarse, dull wash the backward dragging surge 
 
 Its raucid pebbles rakes, 
 Or swelling dark runs down with toppling verge, 
 
 And flashing breaks. 
 
 The lighthouse flares and darkens from the clifF, 
 
 And stares with lurid eye 
 Fiercely along the sea and shore, as if 
 
 Some foe to spy. 
 
 What knowing thought, O ever-moaning sea, 
 Haunts thy perturbed breast, — 
 
 What dark crime weighs upon thy memory 
 And spoils thy rest ? 
 
 Thy soft swell lifts and swings the new-launched yacht 
 
 With polished spars and deck, 
 But crawls and grovels where the bare ribs rot 
 
 Of the old wreck. 
 
 O treacherous courtier ! thy deceitful he 
 
 To youth is gayly told. 
 But in remorse I see thee cringingly 
 
 Crouch to the old. 
 
 W. W. Story. 
 
THE PELICAN ISLAND. 95 
 
 THE PELICAN ISLAND. 
 
 T IGHT as a flake of foam upon the wind, 
 -*— ' Keel-upward from the deep emerged a shell, 
 Shaped hke the moon ere half her horn is filled ; 
 Fraught with young life, it righted as it rose, 
 And moved at will along the yielding water. 
 The native pilot of this little bark 
 Put out a tier of oars on either side, 
 Spread to the wafting breeze a twofold sail, 
 And mounted up and glided down the billow 
 In happy freedom, pleased to feel the air, 
 And wander in the luxury of light. 
 Worth all the dead creation, in that hour. 
 To me appeared this lonely Nautilus, 
 My fellow-being, like myself, alive. 
 Entranced in contemplation, vague yet sweet, 
 I watched its vagrant course and ripphng wake, 
 Till I forgot the sun amidst the heavens. 
 
 It closed, sunk, dwindled to a point, then nothing 
 While the last bubble crowned the dimpling eddy. 
 Through which my eyes still giddily pursued it, 
 A joyous creature vaulted through the air, — 
 The aspiring fish that fain would be a bird. 
 On long, light wings, that flung a diamond shower 
 Of dew-drops round its evanescent form, 
 Sprang into hght, and instantly descended. 
 Ere I could greet the stranger as a friend. 
 Or mourn his quick departure on the surge, 
 A shoal of dolphins, tumbling in wild glee, 
 
96 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Glowed with such orient tints they might have been 
 
 The rainbow's offspring, when it met the ocean 
 
 In that resplendent vision I had seen. 
 
 While yet in ecstasy I hung o'er these, 
 
 With every motion pouring out fresh beauties, 
 
 As though the conscious colors came and went 
 
 At pleasure, glorying in their subtle changes, — 
 
 Enormous o'er the flood, Leviathan 
 
 Looked forth, and from his roaring nostrils sent 
 
 Two fountains to the sky, then plunged amain 
 
 In headlong pastime through the closing gulf. 
 
 James Montgomery. 
 
 SANTA CRUZ. 
 
 1869. 
 
 O AUNTERING hither on listless wings, 
 *^ Careless vagabond of the sea, 
 Little thou heedest the surf that sings, 
 The bar that thunders, the shale that rings, — 
 Give me to keep thy company. 
 
 Little thou hast, old friend, that's new, 
 Storms and wrecks are old things to thee; 
 
 Sick am I of these changes too ; 
 
 Little to care for, Httle to rue, — 
 I on the shore, and thou on the sea. 
 
 All of thy wanderings far and near 
 
 Bring thee at last to shore and me ; 
 AH of my journeyings end them here, 
 
A SEA- VIEW. 97 
 
 This our tether must be our cheer, — 
 I on the shore, and thou on the sea. 
 
 Lazily rocking on ocean's breast, 
 
 Something in common, old friend, have we : 
 Thou on the shingle seekest thy nest, 
 I to the waters look for rest, — 
 
 I on the shore, and thou on the sea. 
 
 Bret Harte. 
 
 A SEA-VIEW. 
 
 T CLIMBED the sea-worn chfFs that edged the shore, 
 
 -■' And looking downward watched the breakers curl 
 
 Around the rocks, and marked their mighty swirl 
 
 Quiver through swaying seaweed dark and hoar. 
 
 Eastward the white caps rose with far-off roar. 
 
 Against a sky Hke red and purple pearl. 
 
 Then hollowed greenly in, and rushed to hurl 
 
 Their weight of water at the cliffs before. 
 
 Only a sea-gull flying silently. 
 
 And one soft, rosy sail, were now in sight, — 
 
 A sail the sunset touched right tenderly, 
 
 And flushed with dreamy glory faintly bright. 
 
 Then fain would I have crossed the tossing sea, 
 
 Fain dared the storm to float within that light. 
 
 Alice Osborne. 
 
98 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 HOME-THOUGHTS FROM THE SEA. 
 
 IVrOBLY, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the north-west 
 
 -^^ died away; 
 
 Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz 
 
 Bay; 
 Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar 
 
 lay; 
 In the dimmest north-east distance dawned Gibraltar 
 
 grand and gray ; 
 " Here and here did England help me, — how can I 
 
 help England ? " say 
 Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise 
 
 and pray. 
 While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent, over Africa. 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 A PICTURE FROM APPLEDORE. 
 
 "P AST WARD as far as the eye can see, 
 -■-^ Still eastward, eastward endlessly, 
 The sparkle and tremor of purple sea 
 That rises before you, a flickering hill, 
 On and on to the shut of the sky ; 
 And, beyond, you fancy it sloping until 
 The same multitudinous throb and thrill 
 That vibrate under your dizzy eye. 
 
A PICTURE FROM APPLEDORE. 99 
 
 In ripples of orange and pink, are sent 
 Where the poppied sails doze on the yard, 
 And the clumsy junk and proa lie, 
 Sunk deep with precious woods and nard, 
 'Mid the palmy isles of the Orient. 
 Those leaning towers of clouded white. 
 On the farthest brink of doubtful ocean, 
 That shorten and shorten out of sight. 
 Yet seem on the self-same spot to stay. 
 Receding with a motionless motion, 
 Fading to dubious films of gray, 
 Lost, dimly found, then vanished wholly, 
 Will rise again, the great world under. 
 First films, then towers, then high-heaped 
 
 clouds. 
 Whose nearing outhnes sharpen slowly 
 Into tall ships with cobweb shrouds. 
 That fill long Mongol eyes with wonder. 
 Crushing the violet wave to spray. 
 Past some low headland of Cathay : — 
 What was that sigh that seemed so near, 
 Chilling your fancy to the core ? 
 'Tis only the sad old sea you hear. 
 That seems to seek for evermore 
 Something it cannot find, and so. 
 Sighing, seeks on, and tells its woe 
 To the pitiless breakers of Appledore. 
 
 James R. Lowell. 
 
loo SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 T' 
 
 DOVER BEACH. 
 
 'HE sea is calm to-night. 
 
 The tide is full, the moon lies fair 
 Upon the Straits ; on the French coast the light 
 Gleams and is gone ; the cliffs of England stand 
 Glimmering and vast out in the tranquil bay. 
 Come to the window, sweet is the night air ! 
 
 Only from the long line of spray, 
 Where the ebb meets the moon-blanched sand, 
 
 Listen ! you hear the grating roar 
 Of pebbles, which the waves suck back and fling, 
 
 At their return, up the high strand, 
 Begin and cease, and then again begin. 
 With tremulous cadence slow, and bring 
 
 The eternal note of sadness in. 
 
 Sophocles long ago 
 Heard it on the ^Egean, and it brought 
 Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow 
 
 Of human misery : we 
 Find also in the sound a thought. 
 Hearing it by this distant northern sea. 
 
 The sea of faith 
 Was once too at the full, and round earth's shore 
 Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled ; 
 
 But now I only hear 
 Its melancholy, long withdrawing roar, 
 
 Retreating to the breath 
 Of the night wind down the vast edges drear 
 
 And naked shingles of the world. 
 
AT BAY RIDGE, L.I. loi 
 
 Ah, love, let us be true 
 To one another ! for the world which seems 
 To lie before us like a land of dreams. 
 
 So various, so beautiful, so new, 
 Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light. 
 Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain ; 
 And we are here as on a darkling plain. 
 Swept with confused alarms of struggle and fight, 
 
 Where ignorant armies clash by night. 
 
 Matthew Arnolx). 
 
 AT BAY RIDGE, L.I. 
 
 IDLE AS ANT it is to lie amid the grass 
 
 Under these shady locusts half the day. 
 Watching the ships reflected in the Bay, 
 
 Topmast and shroud, as in a wizard's glass ; 
 To see the happy-hearted martins pass. 
 
 Brushing the dew-drops from the lilac spray; 
 Or else to hang enamoured o'er some lay 
 
 Of fairy regions, or to muse, alas ! 
 On Dante exiled journeying outworn ; 
 
 On patient Milton's sorrowfullest eyes. 
 Shut from the splendors of the Night and Morn ; 
 
 To think that now beneath the Itahan skies, 
 In such clear air as this, by Tiber's wave 
 
 Daisies are trembling over Keats's grave. 
 
 Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 
 
I02 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 AT CARNAC. 
 
 May 6, 1859. 
 
 FAR on its rocky knoll descried, 
 Saint Michael's chapel cuts the sky. 
 I climbed ; beneath me bright and wide 
 Lay the lone coast of Brittany. 
 
 Bright in the sunset, weird and still. 
 It lay beside the Atlantic wave, 
 
 As if the wizard Merhn's will 
 
 Yet charmed it from his forest grave. 
 
 Beside me, on their grassy sweep. 
 
 Bearded with lichen scrawled and gray, 
 
 The giant stones of Carnac sleep. 
 In the mild evening of the May. 
 
 No priestly, stern procession now 
 
 Streams through the rows of pillars old ; 
 
 No victims bleed, no Druids bow ; 
 
 Sheep make the furze-grown aisles their fold. 
 
 From bush to bush the cuckoo flies. 
 The orchis red gleams everywhere ; 
 
 Gold broom with furze in blossom vies. 
 The blue-bells perfume all the air. 
 
 And o'er the ghstening, lonely land. 
 Rise up all round the Christian spires; 
 
 The church of Carnac by the strand 
 Catches the westerino- sun's last fires. 
 
THE SAND-PIPER. 103 
 
 And there, across the watery way, 
 
 See, low above the tide at flood, 
 The sickle-sweep of Quiberon Bay, 
 
 Whose beach once ran with royal blood. 
 
 And, beyond that, the Atlantic wide ! 
 
 All round no soul, no boat, no hail ! 
 But, on the horizon's verge descried, 
 
 Hangs, touched with light, one snowy sail ! 
 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 THE SAND-PIPER. 
 
 A CROSS the narrow beach we flit, 
 
 ^ One little sand-piper and I, 
 And fast I gather, bit by bit. 
 
 The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. 
 The v/ild waves reach their hands for it, 
 
 The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, 
 As up and down the beach we flit, — 
 
 One httle sand-piper and I. 
 
 Above our heads the sullen clouds 
 
 Scud black and swift across the sky ; 
 Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 
 
 Stand out the white lighthouses high. 
 Almost as far as eye can reach, 
 
 I see the close-reefed vessels fly. 
 As fast we flit along the beach, — 
 
 One httle sand-piper and I. 
 
I04 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 I watch him as he skims along, 
 
 Uttering his sweet and mournful cry. 
 He starts not at my fitful song, 
 
 Or flash of fluttering drapery. 
 He has no thought of any wrong ; 
 
 He scans me with a fearless eye. 
 Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 
 
 The httle sand-piper and I. 
 
 Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, 
 
 When the loosed storm breaks furiously ? 
 My driftwood fire will burn so bright ! 
 
 To what warm shelter canst thou fly ? 
 I do not fear for thee, though wroth 
 
 The tempest rushes through the sky : 
 For are we not God's children both, 
 
 Thou, little sand-piper, and I ? 
 
 Celia Thaxtkr. 
 
 THE STORMY PETREL. 
 
 A THOUSAND miles from land are we, 
 ■^ ^ Tossing about on the stormy sea, 
 From billow to bounding billow cast. 
 Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast. 
 The sails are scattered abroad like weeds ; 
 The strong masts shake like quivering reeds ; 
 The mighty cables and iron chains. 
 The hull, which all earthly strength disdains, — 
 They strain and they crack ; and hearts like stone 
 Their natural, hard, proud strength disown. 
 
THE OCEAN. 105 
 
 Up and down ! up and down ! 
 
 From the base of the wave to the billow's crown, 
 
 And amidst the flashing and feathery foam, 
 
 The stormy petrel finds a home. 
 
 A home ! if such a place may be 
 
 For her who lives on the wide, wide sea. 
 
 On the craggy ice, in the frozen air, 
 
 And only seeketh her rocky lair 
 
 To warm her young, and to teach them to spring 
 
 At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing. 
 
 O'er the deep ! o'er the deep ! 
 
 Where the whale and the shark and the sword-fish 
 
 sleep, 
 Outflying the blast and the driving rain, 
 The petrel telleth her tale — in vain ; 
 For the mariner curseth the warning bird 
 Which bringeth him news of the storm unheard ! 
 Ah ! thus does the prophet of good or ill 
 Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still ; 
 Yet he ne'er falters, — so, petrel, spring 
 Once more o'er the weaves on thy stormy wing ! 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 THE OCEAN. 
 
 'THHERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
 -*■ There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
 There is society, where none intrudes. 
 By the deep sea, and music in its roar ; 
 
io6 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 I love not Man the less, but Nature more, 
 From these our interviews, in which I steal 
 From all I may be, or have been before, 
 To mingle with the Universe, and feel 
 What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 
 
 Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, — roll ! 
 Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
 Man marks the earth with ruin, — his control 
 Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain 
 The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
 A shadow of man's ravage, save his own. 
 When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
 He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
 Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 
 
 His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields 
 Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise 
 And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields 
 For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise. 
 Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, 
 And send'st him, shivering, in thy playful spray. 
 And howling, to his gods, where haply lies 
 His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
 And dashest him again to earth : there let him lay. 
 
 The armaments which thunder-strike the walls 
 Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake. 
 And monarchs tremble in their capitals ; 
 The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
 
THE OCEAN, 107 
 
 Their clay creator the vain title take 
 Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; 
 These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake 
 They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
 Ahke the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 
 
 Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee, — 
 Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? 
 Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
 And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
 The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 
 Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou, 
 Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, — 
 Time writes no wrinkles on thy azure brow, — 
 Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 
 
 Thou glorious mirror, where th' Almighty's form 
 Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
 Calm or convulsed, — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
 Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
 Dark-heaving ; boundless, endless, and sublime, — 
 The image of eternity, — the throne 
 Of th' Invisible ; even from out thy shme 
 The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
 Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 
 
 And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
 Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 
 Borne, like thy bubbles, onward ; from a boy 
 I wantoned with thy breakers, — they to me 
 
Io8 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea 
 Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear, 
 For I was, as it were, a child of thee, 
 And trusted to thy billows far and near, 
 And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 npHE billows swell, the winds are high, 
 ^ Clouds overcast my wintry sky ; 
 Out of the depths to Thee I call, — 
 My fears are great, my strength is small. 
 
 O Lord, the pilot's part perform, 
 And guard and guide me through the storm. 
 Defend me from each threatening ill, 
 Control the waves, say, " Peace, be still ! " 
 
 Amidst the roaring of the sea. 
 My soul still hangs her hope on Thee ; 
 Thy constant love, thy faithful care. 
 Is all that saves me from despair. 
 
 Dangers of every shape and name 
 Attend the followers of the Lamb, 
 Who leave the world's deceitful shore, 
 And leave it to return no more. 
 
QUA CURSUM VENTUS, 109 
 
 Though tempest-toss'd and half a wreck, 
 My Saviour through the floods I seek; 
 Let neither winds nor stormy main 
 Force back my shatter'd bark again. 
 
 William Cowper. 
 
 QUA CURSUM VENTUS. 
 
 A S ships, becalmed at eve, that lay, 
 '*' ^ With canvas drooping, side by side, 
 Two towers of sail, at dawn of day, 
 
 Are scarce, long leagues apart, descried : 
 
 When fell the night, upsprung the breeze, 
 And all the darkling hours they plied ; 
 
 Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas 
 By each was cleaving, side by side ; 
 
 E'en so — but why the tale reveal 
 
 Of those whom, year by year unchanged, 
 
 Brief absence joined anew, to feel, 
 Astounded, soul from soul estranged. 
 
 At dead of night their sails were filled, 
 And onward each rejoicing steered ; 
 
 Ah, neither blame, for neither willed 
 Or wist what first with dawn appeared. 
 
 To veer, how vain ! On, onward strain. 
 Brave barks ! In light, in darkness too ! 
 
 Through winds and tides one compass guides. 
 To that and your own selves be true. 
 
no SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 But O blithe breeze ! and O great seas ! 
 
 Though ne'er, that earhest parting past, 
 On your wide plain they join again. 
 
 Together lead them home at last. 
 
 One port, methought, alike they sought, — 
 One purpose hold, where'er they fare ; 
 
 O bounding breeze, O rushing seas, 
 At last, at last, unite them there ! 
 
 Arthur Hugh Clough. 
 
 THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 T TPON the white sea-sand 
 
 ^-^ There sat a pilgrim-band. 
 Telling the losses that their lives had known, 
 
 While evening waned away 
 
 From breezy cliflf and bay, 
 And the strong tides went out with weary moan. 
 
 One spake, with quivering lip. 
 
 Of a fair- freighted ship. 
 With all his household, to the deep gone down; 
 
 And one had wilder woe, 
 
 For a fair face long ago 
 Lost in the darker depths of a great town. 
 
 There were who mourned their youth 
 
 With a most loving truth. 
 For its brave hopes and memories ever green; 
 
 And one upon the west 
 
 Turned an eye that would not rest. 
 For far-off hills whereon his joy had been. 
 
''SPOKENr III 
 
 Some talked of vanished gold, 
 
 Some of proud honors told, 
 Some spake of friends that were their trust no more; 
 
 And one of a green grave, 
 
 Beside a foreign wave, 
 That made him sit so lonely on the shore. 
 
 But when their tales were done, 
 
 There spake among them one, — 
 A stranger, seeming from all sorrow free, — 
 
 " Sad losses have ye met, 
 
 But mine is heavier yet. 
 For a believing heart hath gone from me." 
 
 "Alas ! " these pilgrims said, 
 
 " For the living and the dead, 
 For fortune's cruelty and love's sure cross, 
 
 For the wrecks of land and sea ! 
 
 But, however it came to thee, 
 Thine, stranger, is life's last and heaviest loss ! " 
 
 Frances Brown. 
 
 "SPOKEN." 
 
 /COUNTING the hours by bells and lights, 
 
 ^-^ We rose and sank ; 
 
 The waves, on royal banquet-heights. 
 
 Tossed oif and drank 
 Their jewels made of sun and moon. 
 White pearls at midnight, gold at noon. 
 
112 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Counting the hours by bells and lights, 
 We sailed and sailed ; 
 
 Six lonely days, six lonely nights. 
 No ship we hailed. 
 
 Till all the sea seemed bound in spell, 
 
 And silence sounded hke a knell. 
 
 At last, just when by bells and lights 
 
 Of seventh day 
 The dawn grew clear, in sudden flights 
 
 White sails away 
 To east, like birds, went spreading slow 
 Their wings, which reddened in the glow. 
 
 No more we count the bells and lights : 
 
 We laugh for joy ! 
 The trumpets with their brazen mights 
 
 Call, " Ship ahoy ! " 
 We hold each other's hands ; our cheeks 
 Are wet with tears ; but no one speaks. 
 
 In instant comes the sun, and hghts 
 
 The ship with fire ; 
 Each mast creeps up to dizzy heights, 
 
 A blazing spire ; 
 One faint " Ahoy," then all in vain 
 We look ; we are alone again. 
 
 I have forgotten bells and lights, 
 And waves which drank 
 
 Their jewels up ; those days and nights, 
 Which rose and sank, 
 
'' SPOKE Nr 113 
 
 Have turned like other pasts, and fled, 
 And carried with them all their dead. 
 
 But every day that fire-ship lights 
 
 My distant blue, 
 And every day glad wonder smites 
 
 My heart anew, 
 How in that instant each could heed. 
 And hear the other's swift " God-speed ! " 
 
 Counting by hours thy days and nights 
 In weariness, 
 
 patient soul, on godlike heights 
 
 Of loneliness, 
 
 1 passed thee by ; tears filled our eyes ; 
 
 The loud winds mocked and drowned our cries. 
 
 The hours go by, with bells and fights ; 
 
 We sail, we drift ; 
 Our souls, in changing tasks and rites, 
 
 Find work and shrift. 
 But this I pray, and praying know, 
 Till faith almost to joy can grow. 
 
 That hour by hour the bells, the lights, 
 
 Of sound, of flam.e. 
 Weave spell which ceaselessly recites 
 
 To thee a name, 
 And smiles which thou canst not forget 
 For thee are suns which never set. 
 
 H. H. 
 
114 S^A AND SHORE. 
 
 SEEN AND UNSEEN. 
 
 'T^HE wind ahead, the billows high, 
 
 -*- A whited wave, but sable sky, 
 And many a league of tossing sea 
 Between the hearts I love and me. - 
 
 The wind ahead : day after day 
 These weary words the sailors say ; 
 To weeks the days are lengthened now, — 
 Still mounts the surge to meet our prow. 
 
 Through longing day and lingering night 
 I still accuse Time's lagging flight, 
 Or gaze out o'er the envious sea, 
 That keeps the hearts I love from me. 
 
 Yet, ah, how shallow is all grief ! 
 How instant is the deep rehef ! 
 And what a hypocrite am I 
 To feign forlorn, to 'plain and sigh ! 
 
 The wnnd ahead ? The wind is free ! 
 Forevermore it favoreth me, 
 To shores of God still blowing fair, 
 O'er seas of God my bark doth bear. 
 
 This surging brine /do not sail. 
 This blast adverse is not my gale ; 
 'Tis here I only seem to be. 
 But really sail another sea, — 
 
SEEN AND UNSEEN. 115 
 
 Another sea, pure sky its waves, 
 
 Whose beauty hides no heaving graves, — 
 
 A sea all haven, whereupon 
 
 No hapless bark to wreck has gone. 
 
 The winds that o'er my ocean run 
 Reach through all heavens beyond the sun ; 
 Through life and death, through fate, through time, 
 Grand breaths of God, they sweep sublime. 
 
 Eternal trades, they cannot veer. 
 And, blowing, teach us how to steer ; 
 And well for him whose joy, whose care, 
 Is but to keep before them fair. 
 
 Oh, thou God's mariner, heart of mine, 
 Spread canvas to the airs divine ! 
 Spread sail ! and let thy Fortune be 
 Forgotten in thy Destiny. 
 
 For Destiny pursues us well, 
 
 By sea, by land, through heaven or hell : 
 
 It suffers Death alone to die, 
 
 Bids Life all change and chance defy. 
 
 Would earth's dark ocean suck thee down ? 
 Earth's ocean thou, O Life, shalt drown, 
 Shalt flood it with thy finer wave, 
 And, sepulchred, entomb thy grave ! 
 
 Life loveth life and good ; then trust 
 What most the spirit would, it must ; 
 Deep wishes, in the heart that be, 
 Are blossoms of Necessity. 
 
Ii6 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 A thread of Law runs through thy prayer, 
 Stronger than iron cables are ; 
 And Love and Longing toward her goal 
 Are pilots sweet to guide the Soul. 
 
 So Life must live, and Soul must sail. 
 And Unseen over Seen prevail. 
 And all God's argosies come to shore, 
 Let ocean smile, or rage and roar. 
 
 And so, 'mid storm or calm, my bark 
 With snowy wake still nears her mark ; 
 Cheerly the trades of being blow. 
 And sweeping down the wind I go. 
 
 D. A. Wasson. 
 
 AT SEA. 
 
 npHE night is made for cooling shade, 
 
 -^ For silence and for sleep ; 
 And when I was a child, I laid 
 My hands upon my breast and prayed, 
 
 And sank to slumbers deep : 
 Child-like as then I lie to-night. 
 And watch my lonely cabin light. 
 
 Each movement of the swaying lamp 
 Shows how the vessel reels. 
 
 As o'er her deck the billows tramp. 
 
 And all her timbers strain and cramp, 
 With every shock she feels. 
 
 It starts and shudders, while it burns, 
 
 And in its hincred socket turns. 
 
A NAME IN THE SAND. 117 
 
 Now swinging slow, and slanting low, 
 
 It almost level lies ; 
 And yet I know, while to and fro 
 I watch the seeming pendule go 
 
 With restless fall and rise, 
 The steady shaft is still upright. 
 Poising its httle globe of hght. 
 
 hand of God ! O lamp of peace ! 
 
 O promise of my soul ! 
 Though weak, and tossed, and ill at ease, 
 Amid the roar of smiting seas. 
 
 The ship's convulsive roll, 
 
 1 own, with love and tender awe. 
 Yon perfect type of perfect law ! 
 
 A heavenly trust my spirit calms, 
 
 My soul is filled with light : 
 The ocean sings his solemn psalms, 
 The wild winds chant : I cross my palms, 
 
 Happy as if, to-night, 
 Under the cottage roof, again 
 I heard the soothing summer rain. 
 
 J. T. Trowbridge. 
 
 A NAME IN THE SAND. 
 
 A LONE I walked the ocean strand; 
 A pearly shell was in my hand : 
 I stooped and wrote upon the sand 
 My name, the year, the day. 
 
Il8 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 As onward from the spot I passed, 
 One lingering look behind I cast: 
 A wave came rolling high and fast, 
 And washed my lines away. 
 
 And so, methought, 'twill shortly be 
 With every mark on earth from me : 
 A wave of dark Oblivion's sea 
 
 Will sweep across the place 
 Where I have trod the sandy shore 
 Of Time, and been to be no more, — 
 Of me, my day, the name I bore, 
 
 To leave nor track nor trace. 
 
 And yet, with Him who counts the sands, 
 And holds the waters in his hands, 
 I know a lasting record stands, 
 
 Inscribed against my name, 
 Of all this mortal part has wrought. 
 Of all this thinking soul has thought. 
 And from these fleeting moments caught 
 
 For glory or for shame. 
 
 Hannah F. Gould. 
 
 SEA-SHORE. 
 
 T HEARD, or seemed to hear, the chiding Sea 
 -*■ Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come } 
 Am I not always here, thy summer home ? 
 Is not my voice thy music, morn and eve ? 
 My breath, thy healthful chmate in the heats, 
 My touch thy antidote, my bay thy bath .'' 
 
SEA-SHORE. 119 
 
 Was ever building like my terraces ? 
 
 Was ever couch magnificent as mine ? 
 
 Lie on the warm rock-ledges, and there learn 
 
 A little hut suffices like a town. 
 
 I make your sculptured architecture vain, 
 
 Vain beside mine. I drive my wedges home, 
 
 And carve the coastwise mountain into caves. 
 
 Lo ! here is Rome, and Nineveh, and Thebes, 
 
 Karnak, and Pyramid, and Giant's Stairs, 
 
 Half piled or prostrate ; and my newest slab 
 
 Older than all thy race. 
 
 Behold the Sea, 
 The opaline, the plentiful and strong. 
 Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, 
 Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July ; 
 Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, 
 Purger of eartli, and medicine of men ; 
 Creating a sweet climate by my breath, 
 Washing out harms and griefs from memory. 
 And, in my mathematic ebb and flow. 
 Giving a hint of that which changes not. 
 Rich are the sea-gods ; — who gives gifts but they ? 
 They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls : 
 They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. 
 For every wave is wealth to Daedalus, 
 Wealth to the cunning artist who can work 
 This matchless strength. Where shall he find, O 
 
 waves ! 
 A load your Atlas shoulders cannot lift ? 
 I with my hammer, pounding evermore 
 The rocky coast, smite Andes into dust. 
 
SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Strewing my bed, and, in another age 
 
 Rebuild a continent of better men. 
 
 Then I unbar the doors : my paths lead out 
 
 The exodus of nations : I disperse 
 
 Men to all shores that front the hoary main. 
 
 I, too, have arts and sorceries ; 
 Illusion dwells for evei with the wave. 
 I know what spells are laid. Leave me to deal 
 With credulous and imaginative man ; 
 For, though he scoop my water in his palm, 
 A few rods off he deems it gems and clouds. 
 Planting strange fruits and sunshine on the shore? 
 I make some coast alluring, some lone isle, 
 To distant men, who must go there, or die. 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 MY LIFE IS LIKE A STROLL UPON THE 
 BEACH. 
 
 iy /TY Hfe is hke a stroll upon the beach, 
 -'-'-'- As near the ocean's edge as I can go ; 
 My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, 
 Sometimes I stay to let them overflow. 
 
 My sole employment 'tis, and scrupulous care, 
 To place my gains beyond the reach of tides ; 
 
 Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, 
 Which ocean kindly to my hand confides. 
 
 I have but few companions on the shore. 
 
 They scorn the strand who sail upon the sea ; 
 
 Yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er 
 Is deeper known upon the strand to me. 
 
MEN GOING TO SEA. I2i 
 
 The middle sea contains no crimson dulse, 
 Its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view; 
 
 Along the shore my hand is on its pulse, 
 
 And I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. 
 
 Henry D. Thokeau. 
 
 LINES ON NEW HAMPSHIRE MEN GOING 
 TO SEA. 
 
 'T^HOUGH all the fates should prove unkind, 
 -^ Leave not your native land behind. 
 The ship, becalmed, at length stands still ; 
 The steed must rest beneath the hill ; 
 But swiftly still our fortunes pace, 
 To find us out in every place. 
 
 The vessel, though her masts be firm, 
 Beneath her copper bears a worm ; 
 Around the cape, across the line, 
 Till fields of ice her course confine ; 
 It matters not how smooth the breeze, 
 How shallow or how deep the seas, 
 Whether she bears Manilla twine, 
 Or in her hold Madeira wine. 
 Or China teas, or Spanish hides. 
 In port or quarantine she rides ; 
 Far from New England's blustering shore. 
 New England's worm her hulk shall bore. 
 And sink her in the Indian seas, 
 
 1 
 
 Henry D. Thoreau. 
 
122 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 CHILDREN ON THE SHORE. 
 
 TT 7E are building little homes on the sands, 
 
 ' ^ We are making little rooms very gay, 
 We are busy with our hearts and our hands, 
 
 We are sorry that the time flits away. 
 Oh, why are the minutes in such haste ? 
 
 Oh, why don't they leave us to our play ? 
 Our lessons and our meals are such waste ! 
 
 We can dine very well another day. 
 
 We do not mind the tide coming in. 
 
 We can dig it a cunning little bed, 
 Or leave our pretty house and begin 
 
 Another pretty house in its stead ; 
 We do not mind the sun in our eyes. 
 
 When it makes such a dazzle of the world 
 That we cannot tell the sea from the skies, 
 
 Nor look where the flying drops are hurled. 
 
 The shells that we gather are so fair. 
 
 The birds and the clouds are so kind. 
 And the winds are so merry with our hair, 
 
 It is only the People that we mind ! 
 Papa, if you come so very near, 
 
 We can't build the library to-day ; 
 We think you are tired of being here, 
 
 And perhaps you would like to go away. 
 
DEEP-SEA SOUNDINGS. 1 23 
 
 There are just one or two we won't refuse, 
 
 If they come by, to help us now and then ; 
 But we want only friends to be of use, 
 
 And not all these idle grown men. 
 Perhaps if we hurry very much. 
 
 And don't lose an instant of the day, 
 There'll be time for the last lovely touch, 
 
 Before the sea sweeps it all away ! 
 
 Anon. 
 
 M 
 
 DEEP-SEA SOUNDINGS. 
 ARINER, what of the deep ? 
 
 This of the deep ; 
 Twilight is there, and solemn, changeless calm; 
 Beauty is there, and tender, heahng balm, — 
 Balm with no root in earth, or air, or sea ; 
 Poised by the finger of God, it floateth free. 
 And, as it treadeth the waves, the sound doth rise, 
 Hither shall come no farther sacrifice ; 
 Never again the anguished clutch at life, 
 Never again great Love and Death at strife. 
 He who hath suffered all need fear no more, 
 Quiet his portion now for evermore. 
 
 Mariner, what of the deep ? 
 
 This of the deep : 
 Solitude dwells not there, though silence reign ; 
 Mighty the brotherhood of loss and pain ; 
 There is communion past the need of speech, 
 There is a love no words of love can reach ; 
 
124 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Heavy the waves that superincumbent press, 
 But as we labor here with constant stress, 
 Hand doth hold out to hand not help alone, 
 But the deep bliss of being fully known. 
 There are no kindred hke the kin of sorrow, 
 There is no hope like theirs who fear no morrow. 
 
 Mariner, what of the deep ? 
 
 This of the deep : 
 Though we have travelled past the line of day, 
 Glory of night doth light us on our way ; 
 Radiance that comes we know not how or whence, 
 Rainbows without the rain past duller sense, 
 Music of hidden reefs and waves long past. 
 Thunderous organ-tones from far-off blast, 
 Harmony victrix clothed in state subhme, 
 Couched on the wrecks begemmed with pearls of time ; 
 Never a wreck but brings some beauty here ; 
 Down where the waves are stilled, the sea shines 
 
 clear ; 
 Deeper than life, the plan of life doth lie. 
 He who knows all fears naught. Great Death shall 
 
 die. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 FROM "IN MEMORIAM." 
 
 TI?AIR ship that from the Itahan shore 
 -^ Sai lest the placid ocean plains, 
 
 With my lost Arthur's loved remains, 
 Spread thy full wings and waft him o'er ! 
 
FROM ''IN MEMORIAMr 125 
 
 So draw him home to those that mourn 
 In vain ; a favorable speed 
 Ruffle thy mirrored mast, and lead 
 
 Through prosperous floods his holy urn ! 
 
 All night no ruder air perplex 
 
 Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright 
 As our pure love, through early light 
 
 Shall glimmer on the dewy decks ! 
 
 Sphere all your lights around, above ; 
 
 Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow ; 
 
 Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now, 
 My friend, the brother of my love ! 
 
 My Arthur, whom I shall not see 
 
 Till all my widowed race be run ; 
 Dear as the mother to the son, 
 
 More than my brothers are to me ! 
 
 I hear the noise about thy keel ; 
 
 I hear the bell struck in the night ; 
 
 I see the cabin window bright ; 
 I see the sailor at the wheel. 
 
 Thou bringest the sailor to his wife. 
 
 And travelled men from foreign lands 
 And letters unto trembhng hands ; 
 
 And thy dark freight, a vanished life. 
 
 So bring him : we have idle dreams ; 
 This Jook of quiet flatters thus 
 Our home-bred fancies- ; oh, to us, 
 
 The fools of habit, sweeter seems 
 
126 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 To rest beneath the clover sod, 
 
 That takes the sunshine and the rains, 
 Or where the kneehng hamlet drains 
 
 The chahce of the grapes of God ; 
 
 Than if with thee the roaring wells 
 
 Should gulf him fathom deep in brine, 
 And hands so often clasped in mine 
 
 Should toss with tangle and with shells. 
 
 Thou comest much wept for ; such a breeze 
 Compelled thy canvas, and my prayer 
 Was as the whisper of an air, 
 
 To breathe thee over lonely seas. 
 
 For I in spirit saw thee move 
 
 Through circles of the bounding sky, 
 Week after week ; the days go by ; 
 
 Come quick, thou bringest all I love. 
 
 Henceforth, wherever thou mayest roam. 
 My blessing, like a line of light, 
 Is on the waters day and night. 
 
 And, like a beacon, guards thee home. 
 
 So may whatever tempest mars 
 
 Mid-ocean spare thee, sacred bark, 
 And balmy drops in summer dark 
 
 Slide from the bosom of the stars. 
 
 So kind an office hath been done. 
 
 Such precious rehcs brought by thee ; 
 The dust of him I shall not see. 
 
 Till all my widowed race be run. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
UNDER THE SURFACE. 127 
 
 UNDER THE SURFACE. 
 
 /^N the surface, foam and roar, 
 
 ^-^ Restless heave and passionate dash; 
 
 Shingle rattle along the shore, 
 
 Gathering boom and thundering crash. 
 
 Under the surface, soft green hght, 
 A hush of peace and an endless calm, 
 
 Wind and waves from a choral height 
 Falling sweet as a far-off psalm. 
 
 On the surface, swell and swirl. 
 
 Tossing weed and drifting waif. 
 Broken spars that the mad waves whirl, 
 
 Where round wreck- watching rocks they chafe. 
 
 Under the surface, loveliest forms. 
 Feathery fronds with crimson curl, — 
 
 Treasures too deep for the raid of storms, — 
 Delicate coral and hidden pearl. 
 
 II. 
 
 On the surface, lilies white, 
 
 A painted skiff with a singing crew, 
 
 Sky reflections soft and bright, 
 Tremulous crimson, gold, and blue. 
 
128 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Under the surface, life in death, 
 
 SHmy tangle and oozy moans, 
 Creeping things with watery breath, 
 
 Blackening roots and whitening bones. 
 
 On the surface, a shining reach, 
 
 A crystal couch for the moonbeam's rest, 
 
 Starry ripples along the beach, 
 
 Sunset songs from the breezy west. 
 
 Under the surface, glooms and fears, 
 Treacherous currents, swift and strong, 
 
 Deafening rush in the drowning ears. — 
 Have ye rightly read my song .'* 
 
 Frances Ridley Havkrgall. 
 
 SHIPS AT SEA. 
 
 T HAVE ships that went to sea 
 -^ More than fifty years ago ; 
 None have yet come home to me, 
 
 But are sailing to and fro. 
 I have seen them in my sleep. 
 Plunging through the shoreless deep. 
 With tattered sails, and battered hulls, 
 While around them screamed the gulls, 
 Flying low, — flying low. 
 
 I have wondered why they stayed 
 From me, saiHng round the world; 
 
 And I've said, " I'm half afraid 
 
 That their sails will ne'er be furled." 
 
SIIIFS AT SEA. 129 
 
 Great the treasure that they hold, — 
 Silks, and plumes, and bars of gold; 
 While the spices that they bear 
 Fill with fragrance all the air. 
 As they sail, — as they sail. 
 
 Ah ! each sailor in the port 
 
 Knows that I have ships at sea, 
 Of the waves and winds the sport ; 
 
 And the sailors pity me. 
 Oft they come and with me walk, 
 Cheering me with hopeful talk, 
 Till I put my fears aside, 
 And, contented, watch the tide 
 Rise and fall, — rise and fall. 
 
 I have waited on the piers, 
 
 Gazing for them down the bay, 
 Days and nights, for many years. 
 
 Till I've turned, heart-sick, away. 
 But the pilots, when they land. 
 Stop and take me by the hand, 
 Saying, " You will hke to see 
 Your proud ships come home from sea, 
 One and all, — one and all." 
 
 So I never quite despair, 
 
 Nor let hope nor courage fail ; 
 And some day, when skies are fair, 
 
 Up the bay my ships will sail. 
 
130 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 I shall buy then all I need, — 
 Prints to look at, books to read, 
 Horses, wines, and works of art, 
 Everything, — except a heart. 
 That is lost, —that is lost ! 
 
 Once when I was pure and young. 
 
 Richer too than I am now. 
 Ere a cloud was o'er me flung. 
 Or a wrinkle crossed my brow, 
 There was one whose heart was mine 
 But she's something now divine, 
 And though come my ships from sea. 
 They can bring no heart to me 
 Evermore, — evermore. 
 
 Barry Gray. 
 
 THE TWO SHIPS. 
 
 A S I stand by the cross on the lone mountain's 
 '^^- crest, 
 
 Looking over the ultimate sea. 
 In the gloom of the mountain a ship lies at rest. 
 
 And one sails away from the lea : 
 One spreads its white wings on a far-reaching track. 
 
 With pennant and sheet flowing free ; 
 One hides in the shadow, with sails laid aback, — 
 
 The ship that is waiting for me ! 
 
MY SHIP. 131 
 
 But lo ! in the distance the clouds break away ! 
 
 The Gate's glowing portal I see ; 
 And I hear from the outgoing ship in the bay 
 
 The song of the sailors in glee : 
 So I think of the luminous footprints that bore 
 
 The comfort o'er dark Galilee, 
 And wait for the signal to go to the shore, 
 
 To the ship that is waiting for me. 
 
 Bret Harte. 
 
 MY SHIP. 
 
 T~\OWN to the wharves, as the sun goes down, 
 -^-^ And the daylight's tumult and dust and din 
 Are dying away in the busy town, 
 I go to see if my ship comes in. 
 
 I gaze far over the quiet sea, 
 
 Rosy with sunset, like mellow wine. 
 
 Where ships, hke lihes, lie tranquilly. 
 Many and fair, — but I see not mine. 
 
 I question the sailors every night, 
 
 Who over the bulwarks idly lean. 
 Noting the sails as they come in sight, — 
 
 " Have you seen my beautiful ship come in ? " 
 
 " Whence does she come ? " they ask of me ; 
 
 " Who is her master, and what her name ? " 
 And they smile upon me pityingly. 
 
 When my answer is ever and ever the same. 
 
132 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Oh, mine was a vessel of strength and truth, 
 Her sails were white as a young lamb's fleece, 
 
 She sailed long since from the port of Youth, — 
 Her master was Love, and her name was Peace. 
 
 And, like all beloved and beauteous things, 
 She faded in distance and doubt away, — 
 
 With only a tremble of snowy wings 
 She floated, swan-like, adown the bay. 
 
 Carrying with her a precious freight, — 
 All I had gathered by years of pain ; 
 
 A tempting prize to the pirate. Fate, — 
 And still I watch for her back again ; — 
 
 Watch from the earliest morning hght. 
 
 Till the pale stars grieve o'er the dying day, 
 
 To catch the gleam of her canvas white 
 Among the islands which gem the bay. 
 
 But she comes not yet, — she will never come 
 To gladden my eyes and my spirit more ; 
 
 And my heart grows hopeless and faint and dumb. 
 As I wait and wait on the lonesome shore. 
 
 Knowing that tempest and time and storm 
 
 Have wrecked and shattered my beauteous bark ; 
 
 Rank sea-weeds cover her wasting form. 
 
 And her sails are tattered and stained and dark. 
 
A QUEST. 133 
 
 But the tide comes up, and the tide goes down, 
 And the daylight follows the night's eclipse, — 
 
 And still with the sailors, tanned and brown, 
 I wait on the wharves and watch the ships. 
 
 And still with a patience that is not hope, 
 For vain and empty it long hath been, 
 
 I sit on the rough shore's rocky slope, 
 And watch to see if my ship comes in. 
 
 Elizabeth Akers. 
 
 A QUEST. 
 
 \ LL in the summer even, 
 •'- ^ When sea and sky were bright, 
 As royally the sunset 
 
 Went forth to meet the night, 
 
 My Love and I were sailing 
 
 Into the shining west. 
 To find some Happy Island, 
 
 Some Paradise of rest. 
 
 We steered where sunset splendor 
 Turned into gold the shore ; 
 
 The rocks behind its brightness 
 Were cruel as before. 
 
 Within the caves sang sirens. 
 But there the whirlpools be ; 
 
 Not there the Happy Islands, 
 Not there the peaceful sea. 
 
134 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Toward the deep mid-ocean 
 
 Tides ran and swift winds blew; 
 
 It must be there those Islands 
 Await the longing view. 
 
 Their shores are soft with verdure, 
 
 Their skies for ever fair, 
 And always is the fragrance 
 
 Of blossoms on the air. 
 
 I set our sail to seek them, 
 But she, my Love, drew back : 
 
 " Not yet ; the night is chilly, 
 I fear that unknown track." 
 
 So home we sailed, at twihght, 
 
 To the familiar shore ; 
 Turned from the golden glory, 
 
 To live the old Hfe o'er. 
 
 We'll make no further ventures, — 
 
 For timid is my Love, — 
 Until fresh saihng orders 
 
 Are sent us from above. 
 
 Then to the deep mid-ocean 
 
 Though we reluctant sail, 
 We'll find our Happy Islands 
 
 And joys that cannot fail. 
 
 Louise Chandler Moulton. 
 
MY SEAWARD WINDOW. 135 
 
 MY SEAWARD WINDOW. 
 
 nr^HE sweet moon rules the east to-night, 
 
 -*■ To show the sun she too can shine, — 
 From his forsaken cell of night 
 
 She builds herself a jewelled shrine. 
 
 From my lone window look I forth 
 
 Where the grim headlands point to sea, 
 
 And think how out between them passed 
 The ship that bore my friend from me. 
 
 A track of silvery splendor leads 
 
 To where my straining sight was stayed ; 
 
 It may be there our .two souls met, 
 And vows of earnest import made. 
 
 But then the autumn noontide glow 
 
 O'er the still sea stretched far and wide, 
 
 While kneeling, watching from the cliff, 
 " My friend is dear to me ! " I cried. 
 
 My little children dancing cried, 
 
 " Why do you kneel and gaze so far ? " 
 
 " I kneel to bless my parting friend. 
 And even ye forgotten are." 
 
 And one might ask, " What boots this song 
 
 Sung lonely to yon wintry skies ? " 
 It leads me by a hoher light 
 
 Where Memory's solemn comfort lies. 
 
 Julia Ward Howk. 
 
136 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 THE SEA. 
 
 Tj^OR lo ! the sea that fleets about the land, 
 -*■ And hke a girdle clips her sohd waist, 
 Music and measure both doth understand : 
 
 For his great crystal eye is always cast 
 Up to the moon, and on her fixed fast ; 
 And as she danceth in her pallid sphere, 
 So danceth he about the centre here. 
 
 Sometimes his proud green waves, in order set. 
 
 One after other flow into the shore, 
 Which, when they have with many kisses wet, 
 
 They ebb away in order as before. 
 And to make known his courtly love the more, 
 He oft doth lay aside his three-forkt mace, 
 And with his arms the timorous earth embrace. 
 
 John Da vies, 1596. 
 
 BY THE SEA. 
 
 TT is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; 
 -■- The holy time is quiet as a nun 
 Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun 
 Is sinking down in its tranquillity. 
 
 The gentleness of heaven is on the sea; 
 Listen ! the mighty being is awake. 
 And doth with his eternal motion make 
 A sound like thunder — everlastingly. 
 
THE MARINERS. I37 
 
 Dear child ! dear girl ! that walk est with me here, 
 If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, 
 Thy nature is not therefore less divine : 
 
 Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year, 
 And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, 
 God being with thee when we know it not. 
 
 William Wordsworth. 
 
 THE MARINERS. 
 
 "O AISE we the yard and ply the oar, 
 -^^ The breeze is calling us swift away ; 
 The waters are breaking in foam on the shore ; 
 Our boat no more can stay, can stay. 
 
 When the blast flies fast in the clouds on high, 
 
 And billows are roaring loud below, 
 The boatman's song, in the stormy sky. 
 
 Still dares the gale to blow, to blow. 
 
 The timber that frames his faithful boat 
 
 Was dandled in storms on the mountain peaks. 
 
 And in storms, with a bounding keel, 'twill float, 
 And laugh when the sea-fiend shrieks, and shrieks. 
 
 And then, in the calm and glistening nights. 
 We have tales of wonder, and joy, and fear. 
 
 And deeds of the powerful ocean sprites, 
 With which our hearts we cheer, we cheer. 
 
138 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 For often the dauntless mariner knows 
 That he must sink to the land beneath, 
 
 Where the diamond on trees of coral grows, 
 In the emerald halls of Death, of Death. 
 
 Onward we sweep through smooth and storm ; 
 
 We are vo)'agers all in shine or gloom ; 
 And the dreamer who skulks by his chimney warm 
 
 Drifts in his sleep to doom, to doom. 
 
 John Sterling. 
 
 THE SEA. 
 
 npHE sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! 
 ■^ The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! 
 Without a mark, without a bound. 
 It runneth the earth's wide regions round ; 
 It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; 
 Or hke a cradled creature lies. 
 
 I'm on the sea ! I'm on the sea ! 
 
 I am where I would ever be ; 
 
 With the blue above, and the blue below. 
 
 And silence wheresoe'er I go ; 
 
 If a storm should come and awake the deep, 
 
 What matter ? I shall ride and sleep. 
 
 I love, oh how I love to ride 
 On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide, 
 When every mad wave drowns the moon, 
 Or whistles aloft his tempest tune. 
 
MOONLIGHT AT SEA. 1 39 
 
 And tells how goeth the world below, 
 And why the sou'west blasts do blow. 
 
 I never was on the dull, tame shore, 
 But I loved the great sea more and more, 
 And backward flew to her billowy breast, 
 Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest ; 
 And a mother she was, and is, to me ; 
 For I was born on the open sea ! 
 
 The waves were white, and red the morn, 
 In the noisy hour when I was born ; 
 And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, 
 And the dolphins bared their backs of gold ; 
 And never was heard such an outcry wild 
 As welcomed to life the ocean-child ! 
 
 I've hved since then, in calm and strife, 
 Full fifty summers, a sailors Hfe, 
 With wealth to spend, and power to range. 
 But never have sought nor sighed for change ; 
 And Death, whenever he comes to me, 
 Shall come on the wild, unbounded sea ! 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 MOONLIGHT AT SEA. 
 
 IT is the midnight hour : the beauteous sea, 
 "'- Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloses ; 
 While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee. 
 Far down within the watery sky reposes. 
 
I40 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 As if the ocean's heart were stirred 
 
 With inward Hfe, a sound is heard, 
 
 Like that of dreamer murmuring in his sleep ; 
 
 'Tis partly the billow, and partly the air, 
 
 That lies like a garment floating fair 
 
 Above the happy deep. 
 The sea, I ween, cannot be fanned 
 By evening freshness from the land, 
 
 For the land is far away ; 
 But God hath willed that the sky-borne breeze 
 In the centre of the lonehest seas 
 
 Should ever sport and play. 
 The mighty moon she sits above, 
 Encircled with a zone of love, 
 A zone of dim and tender light, 
 That makes her wakeful eye more bright : 
 She seems to shine with a sunny ray. 
 And the hght looks like a mellowed day ! 
 The gracious mistress of the main 
 Hath now an undisturbed reign ! 
 And from her silent throne looks down, 
 As upon children of her own, 
 On the waves that lend their gentle breast 
 In gladness for her couch of rest ! 
 
 John Wilson. 
 
 CALM AT SEA. 
 
 T' 
 
 'HE night is clear, 
 The sky is fair. 
 The wave is resting on the ocean 
 
CALM AT SEA. 14^ 
 
 And far and near 
 The silent air 
 Just lifts the flag with faintest motion. 
 
 There is no gale 
 
 To fill the sail, 
 No wind to heave the curling billow ; 
 
 The streamers droop 
 
 And trembhng stoop, 
 Like boughs, that crown the weeping willow. 
 
 From off the shore 
 
 Is heard the roar 
 Of waves in softest motion rolhng ; 
 
 The twinkling stars 
 
 And whispering airs 
 Are all to peace the heart controlling. 
 
 The moon is bright, 
 
 Her ring of hght, 
 In silver, pales the blue of heaven, 
 
 Or tints with gold. 
 
 Where lightly rolled. 
 Like fleecy snow, the rack is driven. 
 
 How calm and clear 
 
 The silent air ! 
 How smooth and still the glassy ocean ! 
 
 While stars above 
 
 Seem lamps of love. 
 To light the temple of devotion. 
 
 J. G. Percival. 
 
142 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 FROM "THE BUCCANEER." 
 
 T 
 
 ^HE island lies nine leagues away. 
 Along its solitary shore, 
 Of craggy rock and sandy bay, 
 No sound but ocean's roar, 
 Save, where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home, 
 Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. 
 
 But when the light winds lie at rest, 
 
 And on the glassy, heaving sea. 
 The black duck, with her glossy breast. 
 Sits swinging silently ; 
 How beautiful ! no ripples break the reach, 
 And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach. 
 
 And inland rests the green, warm dell ; 
 
 The brook comes tinkhng down its side ; 
 From out the trees the Sabbath bell 
 Rings cheerful far and wide. 
 Mingling its sound with bleatings of the flocks, 
 That feed about the vale among the rocks. 
 
 Richard H. Dana 
 
 /^H, I love to be out by the waters at night, 
 
 ^-^ As they trip to the sea on the bright-tinted 
 
 sands ! 
 And deem their glad billows are children of light. 
 With songs on their lips and the stars in their hands. 
 
 Alice Cary, 
 
OUT TO SEA. 143 
 
 THE SKY IS THICK UPON THE SEA. 
 
 'np HE sky is thick upon the sea, 
 
 -*■ The sea is sown with rain, 
 And in the passing gusts we hear 
 The clanging of the crane. 
 
 The cranes are flying to the south ; 
 
 We cut the northern foam : 
 The dreary land they leave behind 
 
 Must be our future home. 
 
 Its barren shores are long and dark. 
 
 And gray its autumn sky ; 
 But better these than this gray sea, 
 
 If but to land — and die ! 
 
 R. H. Stoddard, 
 
 OUT TO SEA. 
 
 'TpHE wind is blowing east, 
 
 -■- And the waves are running free 
 Let's hoist the sail at once. 
 And stand out to sea, 
 
 (You and me ! ) 
 I am growing more and more 
 A- weary of the shore ; 
 It was never so before, — 
 Out to sea ! 
 
144 SEA AND S//OA'£. 
 
 The wind is blowing east, 
 
 How it swells the straining sail ! 
 A little farther out 
 
 We shall have a jolly gale ! 
 
 (Cling to me !) 
 The waves are running high, 
 And the gulls, how they fly ! 
 We shall only see the sky 
 Out to sea. 
 
 The wind is blowing east 
 
 From the dark and bloody shore. 
 Where flash a million swords, 
 And the dreadful cannon roar ! 
 
 (Woe is me !) 
 There's a curse upon the land ! 
 (Is that blood upon my hand ?) 
 What ca/i we do but stand 
 Out to sea ? 
 
 R. H. Stoddard. 
 
 NOONDAY BY THE SEASIDE. 
 
 ^ I ^HE sea has left the strand ; 
 -*- In their deep sapphire cup 
 The waves lie gathered up, 
 Oft' the hard-ribbed sand. 
 
 From each dark rocky brim, 
 The full wine tinted billows ebbed away 
 
 Leave on the golden rim 
 Of their huge bowl not one thin line of spray. 
 
NOONDAY BY THE SEASIDE. 145 
 
 Above the short-grassed downs all broidered over 
 With scarlet pimpernel and silver clover, 
 Like spicy incense quivers the warm air ; 
 
 With piercing fervid heat 
 
 The noonday sunbeams beat 
 On the red granite sea-slabs, broad and bare. 
 
 And prone along the shore. 
 Basking in the fierce glare, 
 
 Lie sun-bronzed Titans, covered o'er 
 With shaggy, sea-weed hair. 
 
 Come in, under this vault of brownest shade, 
 
 By sea-worn arches made, 
 Where all the air, with a rich topaz light, 
 
 Is darkly bright. 
 'Neath these rock-folded canopies, 
 
 Shadowy and cool. 
 The crystal water lies 
 
 In many a glassy pool. 
 Whose green-veined sides, as they receive the light, 
 Gleam like pale wells of precious malachite. 
 
 In the warm shallow water dip thy feet, 
 Gleaming like rose-hued pearls below the wave. 
 And lying in this hollow, sea-smoothed seat, 
 Gaze on the far-off white-sailed fisher fleet, 
 •Framed in the twilight portal of our cave ; 
 
 While I lie here, and gaze on thee. 
 
 Fairer art thou to me 
 Than Aphrodite, when the breathless deep 
 Wafted her, smiling in her rosy sleep, 
 
146 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Towards the green-myrtled shore, that in delight, 
 With starry fragrance, suddenly grew white ; 
 
 Or than the shuddering girl, 
 
 Whose wide distended eyes, 
 
 Glassy, with dread surprise, 
 
 Saw the huge billow curl. 
 Foaming and bristling with its grisly freight ; 
 
 While, twinkhng from afar, 
 With iris-feathered heels, and falchion bright, 
 From the blue copse of heaven's dazzling height, 
 Her lover swooped, a flashing noon-tide star. 
 
 A mid-day dream hath lighted on thy brow, 
 
 And gently bends it down ; thy fair eyes swim. 
 
 In liquid languor, lustreless and dim; 
 
 And slowly dropping now, 
 
 From the light loosened clasp of thy warm hand, 
 
 Making a ruddy shadow on the sand, 
 
 Falls a wine-perfumed rose, with crimson glow. 
 
 Sleep, my beloved ! while the sultry spell 
 Of silent noon o'er sea and earth doth dwell ; 
 Stoop thy fair graceful head upon my breast, 
 With its thick rolls of golden hair opprest 
 My lily ! — and my breathing shall not sob 
 With one tumultuous sigh, nor my heart throb 
 With one irregular bound, that I may keep, 
 With tenderest watch, the treasure of thy sleep. 
 Droop gently down, in slumb'rous, slow eclipse. 
 Fair fringed Hds ! beneath my sealing lips. 
 
 'Frances Anne Kemble. 
 
SEA-TANGLE. 147 
 
 SEA-TANGLE. 
 
 " f~^ O show to earth your power ! " the East 
 
 ^^ Wind cried 
 
 Commanding ; and the swift, submissive seas, 
 In ordered files, hke hquid mountains, ghde, 
 
 Moving from sky to sky with godhke ease. 
 
 Its march subhme was as a hfting world 
 
 Subsiding into glassy valleys vast : 
 No crest of foam upon its brow was curled ; 
 
 But silent, dark, and terrible, it passed. 
 
 Below a chfF, where mused a little maid, 
 
 It struck. Its voice in thunder cried, "Be- 
 ware ! " 
 
 But, to delight her, instantly displayed 
 A fount of showering diamonds in the air. 
 
 " Go, cruel thing ! " she said, "unloved by me ; 
 
 Go, tear the sailor from his happy sleep ; 
 Drown navies in thy heartless perfidy ; 
 
 But spare our flowers, thou monster of the 
 deep ! " 
 
 As in obedience, the wave passed on. 
 
 Touching each shore with silver-sandalled feet, 
 
 But tossed, in flying, in the sun which shone, 
 A handful to her lap of sea-blooms sweet. 
 
148 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 More delicate than forms the frost doth weave 
 On window-panes, are Ocean's filmy brood ; 
 
 Remembering the awful home they leave, 
 
 Their hues to that dim under-world subdued. 
 
 Fair spread on pages white, I saw arrayed 
 These fairy-children of a sire so stern : 
 
 Their beauty charmed me ; while the little maid 
 Spoke of her new-found love with cheeks which 
 burn, — 
 
 " So grand, so terrible, how could I know 
 
 He cared for these ? " she faltered, — " darlings 
 dear ! 
 
 That his great heart could nurture them, and glow 
 With such a love beneath such look severe ? " 
 
 Like God, the Ocean, too, the least can heed, 
 Yearn in a moon-led quest to farthest shores, 
 
 And fondle in delight its smallest weed, 
 Yet look to Him it mirrors and adores. 
 
 T. G. Appleton. 
 
 THE SHORE. 
 
 CAN it be women that walk in the sea-mist under the 
 cliffs there ? 
 Where, 'neath a briny bow, creaming advances the lip 
 Of the foam, and out from the sand-choked anchors on 
 
 to the skiffs there 
 The long ropes swing through the surge as it tumbles, 
 and glitter and drip. 
 
THE SHORE. 149 
 
 All the place, in a lurid glimmering emerald glory, 
 Glares like a Titan world come back under heaven 
 
 again ; 
 Yonder, up there, are the steeps of the sea-kings 
 
 famous in story, 
 But who are they on the beach ? They are neither 
 , women nor men. 
 
 Who knows. Are they the land's or the water's 
 
 living creatures ? 
 Born of the boiling sea ? nursed in the seething 
 
 ' storms ? 
 With their woman's hair dishevelled over their stern 
 
 male features, 
 Striding bare to the knee, magnified maritime forms ! 
 
 They may be the mothers and wives, they may be the 
 sisters and daughters. 
 
 Of men in the dark mid-seas, alone in those black- 
 coil'd hulls, 
 
 That toil 'neath yon white cloud, whence the moon will 
 rise o'er the waters 
 
 To-night with her face on fire, if the wind in the even- 
 ing lulls. 
 
 But they may be merely visions, such as only sick men 
 witness 
 
 (Sitting, as I sit here, filled with a wild regret), 
 
 Framed from the sea's misshapen spume with a horri- 
 ble fitness 
 
 To the winds in which they walk, and the surges by 
 which they are wet. 
 
150 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Salamanders, sea-wolves, witches, warlocks, marine- 
 monsters, 
 
 Which the dying seaman beholds when the rats are 
 swimming away. 
 
 And an Indian wind 'gins hiss from an unknown isle, 
 and alone stirs 
 
 The broken cloud which burns on the verge of the dead 
 red day. 
 
 I know not. All my mind is confused, nor can I dis- 
 sever 
 
 The mould of the visible world from the shape of my 
 thoughts in me. 
 
 The Inward and Outward are fused, and through them 
 murmur for ever 
 
 The sorrow whose sound is the wind, and the roar of 
 the limitless sea. 
 
 Owen Meredith. 
 
 ON THE CLIFF. 
 
 T LEANED on the turf, 
 
 -*- I looked at a rock 
 
 Left dry by the surf ; 
 
 For the turf, to call it grass were to mock 
 
 Dead to the roots, so deep was done 
 
 The work of the summer sun. 
 
ON THE CLIFF. 15 1 
 
 II. 
 
 And the rock lay flat 
 
 As an anviPs face : 
 
 No iron like that ! 
 
 Baked dry : of a weed, of a shell, no trace ; 
 
 Sunshine outside, but ice at the core, 
 
 Death's altar by the lone shore. 
 
 III. 
 On the turf, sprang gay 
 With his films of blue, 
 No cricket, I'll say, 
 
 But a war-horse, barded and chanfroned too, 
 The gift of a quixote-mage to his knight, 
 Real fairy, with wings all right. 
 
 IV. 
 
 On the rock, they scorch 
 
 Like a drop of fire 
 
 From a brandished torch, 
 
 Fell two red fans of a butterfly : 
 
 No turf, no rock, — in their ugly stead. 
 
 See, wonderful blue and red ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Is it not so 
 
 With the minds of men ? 
 
 The level and low, 
 
 The burnt and bare, in themselves ; but then 
 
 With such a blue and red grace, not theirs, 
 
 Love settling unawares ! 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
152 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 THE SEA-LIMITS. 
 
 /^^ONSIDER the sea's listless chime : 
 
 ^-^ Time's self it is made audible, — 
 The murmur of the earth's own shell. 
 
 Secret continuance subhme 
 
 Is the sea's end. Our sight may pass 
 No furlong further. Since time was, 
 
 This sound hath told the lapse of time. 
 
 No quiet which is death's, — it hath 
 
 The mournfulness of ancient life. 
 
 Enduring always at dull strife. 
 As the world's heart of rest and wrath, 
 
 Its painful pulse is in the sands. 
 
 Lost utterly, the whole sky stands 
 Gray and not known along its path. 
 
 Listen alone beside the sea. 
 
 Listen alone among the woods ; 
 
 Those voices of twin solitudes 
 Shall have one sound alike to thee. 
 
 Hark where the murmurs of thronged men 
 
 Surge and sink back and surge again, — 
 Still the one voice of wave and tree. 
 
 Gather a shell from the strewn beach, 
 And hsten at its lips : they sigh 
 The same desire and mystery. 
 
CHILD'S SONG IN WINTER. 153 
 
 The echo of the whole sea's speech. 
 And all mankind is thus at heart 
 Not any thing but what thou art ; 
 
 And Earth, Sea, Man, are all in each. 
 
 Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 
 
 CHILD'S SONG IN WINTER. 
 
 OUTSIDE the garden 
 The wet skies harden ; 
 The gates are barred on 
 
 The summer side ; 
 Shut out the flower time, 
 Sunbeam and shower time ; 
 Make way for our time, 
 
 The winter tide. 
 Green once and cheery, 
 The woods worn weary. 
 Sigh as the dreary, 
 
 Weak sun goes home ; 
 A great wind grapples 
 The wave, and dapples 
 The dead green floor of the sea with foam. 
 
 Through fell and moorland. 
 
 And salt sea foreland. 
 Our noisy norland 
 
 Resounds and rings ; 
 
154 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Waste waves thereunder 
 Are blown in sunder, 
 And winds make thunder 
 
 With cloud-wide wings. 
 Sea drift makes dimmer 
 The beacon's glimmer ; 
 Nor sail nor swimmer 
 
 Can try the tides ; 
 And snow-drifts thicken 
 Where, when leaves quicken, 
 Under the heather the sundew hides. 
 
 In fierce March weather 
 White waves break tether, 
 And whirled together 
 
 At either hand, 
 Like weeds uplifted, 
 The tree trunks rifted 
 In spars are drifted. 
 
 Like foam or sand, 
 Past swamp and sallow, 
 And reed-beds callow, 
 Through pool and shallow, 
 
 To wind and lee. 
 Till, no more tongue-tied, 
 Full flood and young tide 
 Roar down the rapids and storm the sea. 
 
 As men's cheeks faded 
 On shores invaded. 
 When shorewards waded 
 The lords of fight ; 
 
CHILD'S SONG IN WINTER. 155 
 
 When churl and craven 
 Saw hard on haven 
 The wide- winged raven 
 
 At main-mast height ; 
 When monks affrighted 
 To windward sighted 
 The birds full flighted 
 
 Of swift sea-kings ; 
 So earth turns paler 
 When Storm, the sailor, 
 Steers in with a roar in the race of his wings. 
 
 O strong sea sailor, 
 Whose cheek turns paler 
 For wind or hail, or 
 
 For fear of thee ? 
 O far sea-far er, 
 O thunder-bearer, 
 Thy songs are rarer 
 
 Than soft songs be. 
 O fleet-foot stranger, 
 O North-Sea ranger, 
 Through days of danger 
 
 And ways of fear, 
 Blow thy horn here for us, 
 Blow the sky clear for us, 
 Send us the song of the sea to hear. 
 
 Roll the strong stream of it 
 Up, till the scream of it 
 Wake from a dream of it 
 
156 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Children that sleep ; 
 Seamen that fare for them 
 Forth, with a prayer for them ; 
 Shall not God care for them ? 
 
 Angels not keep ? 
 Spare not the surges 
 Thy stormy scourges ; 
 Spare us the dirges 
 
 Of wives that weep. 
 Turn back the waves for us : 
 Dig no fresh graves for us : 
 Wind, in the manifold gulfs of the deep. 
 
 O stout north-easter. 
 Sea-king, land- waster, 
 For all thine haste, or 
 
 Thy stormy skill, 
 Yet hadst thou never, 
 For all endeavor. 
 Strength to dissever 
 
 Or strength to spill, 
 Save of His giving 
 Who gave our Hving, 
 Whose hands are weaving 
 
 What ours fulfil ; 
 Whose feet tread under 
 The storms and thunder ; 
 Who made our wonder to work His will. 
 
 His years and hours. 
 His world's bhnd powers, 
 His stars and flowers, 
 
SITTING ON THE SHORE. 157 
 
 His nights and days, 
 Sea-tide and river, 
 And waves that shiver, 
 Praise God, the giver 
 
 Of tongues to praise. 
 Winds in their blowing, 
 And fruits in growing, 
 Time in its going, 
 
 While time shall be ; 
 In death and living, 
 With one thanksgiving, 
 Praise Him whose hand is the strength of the sea. 
 
 Algernon C. Swinburne. 
 
 SITTING ON THE SHORE. 
 
 " I ^HE tide has ebb'd away; 
 ■*- No more wild dashings 'gainst the adamant rocks. 
 Nor swayings amidst sea-weed false that mocks 
 
 The hues of gardens gay ; 
 
 No laugh of Httle wavelets at their play : 
 No lucid pools reflecting heaven's clear brow, — 
 Both storm and calm alike are ended now. 
 
 The rocks sit gray and lone : 
 The shifting sand is spread so smooth and dry, 
 That not a tide might ever have swept by, 
 
 Stirring it with rude moan : 
 
 Only some weedy fragments, idly thrown 
 To rot beneath the sky, tell what has been ; 
 But Desolation's self has grown serene. 
 
58 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Afar the mountains rise, 
 And the broad estuary widens out, 
 All sunshine ; wheeling round and round about 
 
 Seaward, a white bird flies. 
 
 A bird ? Nay, seems it rather in these eyes 
 A spirit, o'er Eternity's dim sea 
 Calling, — " Come thou where all we glad souls be." 
 
 O life, O silent shore. 
 Where we sit patient ; O great sea beyond, 
 To which we turn with solemn hope and fond, 
 
 But sorrowful no more ! 
 
 A little while, and then we too shall soar 
 Like white-wing'd sea-birds into the Infinite Deep : 
 Till then, Thou, Father, wilt our spirits keep. 
 
 Dinah Maria Muloch. 
 
 AT SEA. 
 
 TT 7E part as ships on a pathless main, 
 ' * Gayly enough, for the sense of pain 
 
 Is asleep at first ; but ghosts will arise 
 
 When we would repose, and the forms will come 
 And walk when we walk, and will not be dumb, 
 
 Nor yet forget with their wakeful eyes. 
 
 When we most need rest, and the perfect sleep. 
 Some hand will reach from the dark, and keep 
 
THE MOBILE SEA. 159 
 
 The curtains drawn and the pillows toss'd 
 Like a tide of foam ; and one will say 
 At night, — O Heaven, that it were day ! 
 And one by night through the misty tears 
 Will say, — O Heaven, the days are years. 
 
 And I would to Heaven that the waves were cross'd. 
 
 Joaquin Miller. 
 
 I STAND BESIDE THE MOBILE SEA. 
 
 T STAND beside the mobile sea ; 
 
 -*• And sails are spread, and sails are furl'd 
 
 From farthest corners of the world. 
 
 And fold like white wings wearily. 
 
 Steamships go up, and some go down 
 
 In haste, like traders in a town. 
 
 And seem to see and beckon all. 
 
 Afar at sea some white shapes flee, 
 
 With arms stretch'd Hke a ghost's to me, 
 
 And cloud-like sails far blown and curM 
 
 Then glide down to the under-world. 
 
 As if blown bare in winter blasts 
 
 Of leaf and limb, tall naked masts 
 
 Are rising from the restless sea, 
 
 So still and desolate and tall, 
 
 I seem to see them gleam and shine 
 
 With clinging drops of dripping brine. 
 
 Broad still brown wings flit here and there, 
 
 Thin sea-blue wings wheel everywhere. 
 
 And white wings whistle through the air : 
 
 I hear a thousand sea-gulls call. 
 
i6o SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Behold the ocean on the beach 
 Kneel lowly down as if in prayer. 
 I hear a moan as of despair, 
 While far at sea do toss and reach 
 Some things so like white pleading hands. 
 The ocean's thin and hoary hair 
 Is traiPd along the silver'd sands 
 At every sigh and sounding moan. 
 'Tis not a place for mirthfulness, 
 But meditation deep, and prayer, 
 And kneelings on the salted sod, 
 Where man must own his httleness 
 
 And know^ the mightiness of God. 
 
 Joaquin Miller. 
 
 SURF. 
 
 O PLENDORS of morning the billow-crests brighten, 
 ^^ Lighting and luring them on to the land, — 
 Far away waves where the wan vessels whiten, 
 
 Blue rollers breaking in surf where we stand. 
 Curved like the necks of a legion of horses, 
 
 Each with his froth-gilded mane flowing free, 
 Hither they speed in perpetual courses. 
 
 Bearing thy riches, O beautiful sea ! 
 
 Strong with the striving of yesterday's surges, 
 
 Lashed by the wanton winds leagues from the shore, 
 
 Each, driven fast by its follower, urges 
 Fearlessly those that are fleeting before ; 
 
A THANKSGIVING. i6l 
 
 How they leap over the ridges we walk on, 
 Flinging us gifts from the depths of the sea, — 
 
 Silvery fish for the foam-haunting falcon, 
 Palm-weed and pearls for my darling and me ! 
 
 Light falls her foot where the rift follows after, 
 
 Finer her hair than your feathery spray, 
 Sweeter her voice than your infinite laughter, — 
 
 Hist ! ye wild couriers, list to my'lay ! 
 Deep in the chambers of grottos auroral 
 
 Morn laves her jewels and bends her red knee : 
 Thence to my dear one your amber and coral 
 
 Bring for her dowry, O beautiful sea ! 
 
 Edmund Clarence Stedman. 
 
 A THANKSGIVING. 
 
 TTIGH on the ledge the wind blows the bay-berry 
 
 ■n. bright. 
 
 Turning the leaves till they shudder and shine in the 
 
 light: 
 Yellow St. John's -wort and yarrow are nodding their 
 
 heads. 
 Iris and wild-rose are glowing in purples and reds. 
 
 Swift flies the schooner careering beyond o'er the 
 
 blue ; 
 Faint shows the furrow she leaves as she cleaves 
 
 lightly through ; 
 Gay gleams the fluttering flag at her dehcate mast, 
 Full swell the sails with the wind that is following 
 
 fast. 
 
1 62 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Quail and sand-piper, and swallow and sparrow, are 
 
 here ; 
 Sweet sound their manifold notes, high and low, far 
 
 and near ; 
 Chorus of musical waters, the rush of the breeze. 
 Steady and strong from the South, — what glad voices 
 
 are these ! 
 
 O cup of the wild-rose, curved close to hold odorous 
 
 dew. 
 What thought do you hide in your heart ? I would 
 
 that I knew ! 
 O beautiful Iris, unfurling your purple and gold. 
 What victory fling you abroad in the flags you unfold ! 
 
 Sweet may your thought be, red rose ; but still sweeter 
 
 is mine, 
 Close in my heart hidden, clear as your dewdrop 
 
 divine. 
 Flutter your gonfalons. Iris, — the psean I sing 
 Is for victory better than joy or than beauty can bring. 
 
 Into thy calm eyes, O Nature, I look and rejoice ; 
 Prayerful, I add -my one note to the Infinite voice : 
 As shining and singing and sparkling glides on the 
 
 glad day, 
 And eastward the swift-rolling planet wheels into the 
 
 gray. 
 
 Celia Thaxter. 
 
DOWN ON THE SHORE. 163 
 
 DOWN ON THE SHORE. 
 
 ■pvOWN on the shore, on the sunny shore ! 
 ^^ Where the salt smell cheers the land; 
 Where the tide moves bright under boundless light, 
 
 And the surge on the glittering strand ; 
 Where the children wade in the shallow pools, 
 
 Or run from the froth in play ; 
 Where the swift little boats with milk-white wings 
 
 Are crossing the sapphire bay, 
 And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate gale, 
 
 Holds proudly on her way. 
 Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry, 
 And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie, 
 Under the tent of the warm blue sky. 
 
 With the hushing wave on its golden floor 
 To sing their lullaby. 
 
 Down on the shore, on the stormy shore ! 
 
 Beset by a growling sea, 
 Whose mad waves leap on the rocky steep, 
 
 Like wolves up a traveller's tree. 
 Where the foam flies wide, and an angry blast 
 
 Blows the curlew off" with a screech ; 
 Where the brown sea-wrack, torn up by the roots. 
 
 Is flung out of fishes' reach ; 
 Where the tall ship rolls on the hidden shoals, 
 
 And scatters her planks on the beach. 
 
164 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Where slate and straw through the village spin, 
 And a cottage fronts the fiercest din, 
 With a sailor's wife sitting sad within, 
 Hearkening the wind and water's roar. 
 Till at last her tears begin. 
 
 William Allingham, 
 
 BY THE MORNING SEA. 
 
 'T^HE wind shakes up the sleepy clouds 
 -^ To kiss the ruddied morn. 
 And from their awful misty shrouds 
 
 The mountains are new-born : 
 The sea lies fresh with open eyes ; 
 
 Night-fears and moaning dreams, 
 Brooding like clouds on nether skies, 
 
 Have sunk below, and beams 
 Dance on the floor like golden flies, 
 
 Or strike with joyful gleams 
 Some white-winged ship, a wandering star 
 Of ocean, piloting afar. 
 
 In brakes, in woods, in cottage-eaves. 
 
 The early birds are rife. 
 Quick voices thrill the sprinkled leaves 
 
 In ecstasy of hfe ; 
 With silent gratitude of flowers 
 
 The morning's breath is sweet. 
 And cool with dew, that freshly showers 
 
 Round wild things' hasty feet. 
 
WAITING BY THE SEA. 165 
 
 But the heavenly guests of tranquil hours 
 
 To inner skies retreat, 
 From human thoughts of lower birth 
 That stir upon the waking earth. 
 
 Across a thousand leagues of land 
 
 The mighty sun looks free, 
 And in their fringe of rock or sand 
 
 A thousand leagues of sea. 
 Lo ! I, in this majestic room, 
 
 As real as the sun, 
 Inherit this day and its doom 
 
 Eternally begun. 
 A world of men the rays illume, 
 
 God''s men, and I am one. 
 But Hfe that is not pure and bold 
 Doth tarnish every morning's gold. 
 
 William Allingham. 
 
 WAITING BY THE SEA. 
 
 A LONE upon the windy hills 
 ■^ ^ I stand and face the open sea. 
 
 And drink the southern breeze that fills 
 The sails that bring my love to me. 
 
 Far out the shores and woodlands reach, 
 Till lost in mists of pearly gray. 
 
 Or crossed by lines of yellow beach 
 And flashing breakers far away. 
 
l66 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Alone upon the windy slopes, 
 I watch the long, blue, level wall 
 
 Of ocean, where my winged hopes, 
 Like fluttering sea-birds, fly and call. 
 
 O happy pilot-boats that dance 
 Across the sparkling miles of sea, 
 
 O greet her, should ye meet by chance 
 The ship that bears my love to me ! 
 
 And does she lean upon the deck. 
 And strain her eyes till land appears, 
 
 As I to catch the white-winged speck 
 That clears away my gathering fears ? 
 
 By long, low beach and wooded crag 
 The crowded sails go glimmering past ; 
 
 But none that bear the well-known flag 
 And pennon streaming from the mast. 
 
 ocean, wrinkling in the sun ! 
 
 O breeze, that blowest from the sea ! 
 Waft into port, ere day is done. 
 My love, my life, again to me ! 
 
 She comes, she comes ! I see the sails, 
 Like rounded sea-shells full and white ; 
 
 1 hear the booming gun that hails 
 The coming of my heart's delight. 
 
THE MUSIC OF THE SEA. 167 
 
 I hear the sailors' distant song, 
 They crowd the deck in bustling glee ; 
 
 And there is one amid the throng 
 Who waves a rosy scarf to me. 
 
 The sun has set, the air is still, 
 The twilight reddens o'er the sea, 
 
 The full moon rises o'er the hill, 
 But joy like sunrise shines for me. 
 
 C. P. Cranch. 
 
 THE MUSIC OF THE SEA. 
 
 From " The Golden Legend." 
 
 T 
 
 HE night is calm and cloudless, 
 And still as still can be, 
 And the stars come forth to listen 
 
 To the music of the sea. 
 They gather, and gather, and gather, 
 
 Until they crowd the sky. 
 And listen, in breathless silence. 
 
 To the solemn litany. 
 It begins in rocky caverns, 
 
 As a voice that chants alone 
 To the pedals of the organ 
 
 In monotonous undertone ; 
 And anon from shelving beaches. 
 
 And shallow sands beyond. 
 In snow-white robes uprising, 
 
 The ghostly choirs respond. 
 
1 68 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And sadly and unceasing 
 
 The mournful voice sings on, 
 And the snow-white choirs still answer, 
 
 Christe eleison ! 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 
 
 OUT AT SEA. 
 
 "TC^AR on the deep mid-ocean tossed, 
 
 •*- Leagues away from the friendly shore, 
 
 In the watery wilderness lost, 
 
 Driven and deafened by rush and roar. 
 Baffled by wind and wave are we ; — 
 What sweet home-spirits may there be, 
 Sadly pondering on our wandering 
 Wide and wearisome, out at sea ! 
 
 Lying here in my tossing bed, 
 
 I dream of ruin, and rock, and wreck, — 
 Hearing the slow, continuous tread 
 
 Of the sailor who walks the deck. 
 Keeping his long watch patiently ; — 
 Gentler watchers on shore there be ; 
 Eyes which weep for us, leaving sleep for us, 
 
 Fond watch keep for us, out at sea ! 
 
 In at the narrow window there 
 Drifts the ocean wind, wild and damp, 
 
 Frightening into flicker and flare 
 
 The feeble flame of the swinging lamp ; 
 
ON THE SEA. 169 
 
 Yet, though lonesome and dark it be, 
 There are places where steadily 
 Faith's fires burn for us, true hearts mourn for us, 
 Dear arms yearn for us, out at sea ! 
 
 Blinded and beaten by wind and foam, 
 Hurled and tossed at the sea's command, 
 
 Sweet the thought that in some dear home, 
 Steady and still on the solid land, 
 
 Where our hopes and our memories be 
 
 Safely harbored from storm and sea. 
 
 Love takes heed for us, love's hps plead for us. 
 Love's prayers speed for us, out at sea ! 
 
 Night and darkness, and storm and clouds ; 
 
 Creak of cordage and shudder of sails ; 
 Drifting drearily through the shrouds. 
 
 There is a murmur of mournful wails, — 
 Dirges sung for the lost at sea. 
 Where the tempest is fierce and free : 
 Father, hear to us, bend Thine ear to us, 
 
 Be thou near to us, out at sea ! 
 
 Elizabeth Akers. 
 
 ON THE SEA. 
 
 'T^HE pathway of the sinking moon 
 
 -*■ Fades from the silent bay ; 
 The mountain-isles loom large and faint. 
 
 Folded in shadows gray. 
 And the lights of land are setting stars 
 That soon will pass away. 
 
170 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 O boatman, cease thy mellow song ! 
 
 O minstrel, drop thy lyre ! 
 Let us hear the voice of the midnight sea, 
 
 Let us speak as the waves inspire, 
 While the plashy dip of the languid oar 
 
 Is a furrow of silver fire. 
 
 Day cannot make thee half so fair, 
 
 Nor the stars of eve so dear ; 
 The arms that clasp and the breast that keeps, 
 
 They tell me thou art near, 
 And the perfect beauty of thy face 
 
 In thy murmured words I hear. 
 
 The lights of land have dropped below 
 The vast and ghmmering sea ; 
 
 The world we leave is a tale that is told, — 
 A fable that cannot be. 
 
 There is no life in the sphery dark 
 But the love in thee and me ! 
 
 Bayard Taylor. 
 
 FROM "THE BATH." 
 
 TT THERE yonder dancing billows dip, 
 ^^ Far-off, to ocean's misty verge. 
 Ploughs Morning, like a full-sailed ship. 
 The orient's cloudy surge. 
 
SUNKEN TREASURES. 171 
 
 With spray of scarlet fire before 
 
 The ruffled gold that round her dies, 
 She sails above the sleeping shore, 
 Across the waking skies. 
 
 The dewy beach beneath her glows ; 
 
 A pencilled beam, the lighthouse burns : 
 Full-breathed, the fragrant sea-wind blows, — 
 Life to the world returns ! 
 
 Bayard Taylor. 
 
 SUNKEN TREASURES. 
 
 T T THEN the uneasy waves of hfe subside, 
 ^ ^ And the soothed ocean sleeps in glassy rest, 
 I see submerged, beyond or storm or tide. 
 The treasures gathered in its greedy breast. 
 
 There still they shine through the translucent Past, 
 
 Far down on that forever quiet floor ; 
 No fierce upheaval of the deep shall cast 
 
 Them back, no wave shall wash them to the shore. 
 
 I see them gleaming beautiful as when 
 Erewhile they floated, convoys of my fate; 
 
 The barks of lovely women, noble men. 
 
 Full sailed with hope, and stored with Love's own 
 freight. 
 
172 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 The sunken treasures of my heart as well 
 Look up to me as perfect as at dawn ; 
 
 My golden palace heaves beneath the swell 
 To meet my touch, and is again withdrawn. 
 
 There sleep the early triumphs, cheaply won, 
 That led Ambition to his utmost verge ; 
 
 And still his visions, like a drowning sun, 
 
 Send up receding splendors through the surge. 
 
 There wait the recognitions, the quick ties, 
 
 Whence the heart knows its kin wherever cast ; 
 
 And there the partings, when the wistful eyes 
 Caress each other, as they look their last. 
 
 There lie the summer eves, delicious eves. 
 
 The soft green valleys drenched with light divine, 
 
 The lisping murmurs of the chestnut leaves. 
 The hand that lay, the eyes that looked in mine. 
 
 There lives the hour of fear and rapture yet, 
 The perilled climax of the passionate years ; 
 
 There still the rains of wan December wet 
 A naked mound, — I cannot see for tears. 
 
 I see them all, but stretch my hands in vain ; 
 
 No deep sea plummet reaches where they rest ; 
 No cunning diver shall descend the main 
 
 And bring a single jewel from its breast. 
 
 Bayard Taylor. 
 
LOW TIDE. 173 
 
 LOW TIDE. 
 
 UNDER the clifF I walk in silence, 
 While the intrepid waters flow, 
 And the white birds, lit by the sun into silver, 
 Gutter against the blue below ; 
 
 And the tide is low. 
 
 Here, years ago, in golden weather, 
 Under the cliff, and close to the sea, 
 
 A pledge was given that made me master 
 Of all that ever was dear to me ; 
 
 And the tide was low. 
 
 Only a little year fled by after, 
 Then my bride and I came once more. 
 
 And saw the sea, Hke a bird imprisoned. 
 Beating its wings 'gainst its bars, the shore ; 
 And the tide was low. 
 
 Now I walk alone by the filmy breakers, — 
 
 A voice is hushed I can never forget ; 
 Upon my sea dead calm has fallen, 
 My ships are harbored, my sun is set ; 
 And the tide is low. 
 
 Henry Abbby. 
 
174 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 DONALD. 
 
 OMY white, white, hght moon, that sailest in the 
 sky, 
 Look down upon the whirling world, for thou art up so 
 
 high, 
 And tell me where my Donald is who sailed across the 
 
 sea. 
 And make a path of silver light to lead him back to 
 me. 
 
 O my white, white, bright moon, thy cheek is coldly 
 
 fair, 
 A little cloud beside thee seems thy wildly floating 
 
 hair ; 
 And if thou wouldst not have me grow as white and 
 
 cold as thee. 
 Go, make a mighty tide to draw my Donald back to 
 
 me. 
 
 my light, white, bright moon, that doth so fondly 
 
 shine, 
 There is not a lily in the world but hides its face from 
 thine ; 
 
 1 too shall go and hide my face close in the dust from 
 
 thee, 
 Unless with light and tide thou bring my Donald back 
 to me. 
 
 Henry Abbey. 
 
THE LAND-SICK. 175 
 
 THE LAND-SICK. 
 
 r~^ REEN fields are about me with hill and plain, 
 ^-^ And corn on the upland lea ; 
 I long for the blue and billowy main, 
 And instead of these harvests of waving grain 
 For the roll and the surf of the sea. 
 
 The swallow is twittering my window by, 
 
 And carols his summer song ; 
 'Twere better aloft on the tops to He, 
 While the gull and the sea-mew around me fly, 
 
 Still swooping and circling along. 
 
 I hear the laugh and the revelling shout 
 
 Of the jocund boys at play ; 
 But the silvery dolphin seems sporting about, 
 And I think how the pirate bonita leaps out 
 
 For its reckless and fugitive prey. . 
 
 With their "church-going bells," my ears they tire, 
 
 And weary is service time ; 
 Give me the tall mast for the tapering spire, 
 And the high-piping winds for the pealing choir, 
 
 With the dash of the waves to chime ! 
 
 They point to the woodlands, and rocks so gray 
 
 With their shadows ere twihght's begun ; 
 One hour of the sea-cradled dying of day, 
 With a phantom-like sail in the distance away. 
 Is enough for my mother's son ! 
 
176 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 And then, when the broad harvest-moon one sees 
 
 Climb up in the eastern sky, 
 He thinks what bright watches on deck are these, 
 With the mizzen-top-gallant swelled full by the breeze, 
 
 And the star-spangled waves dancing by. 
 
 They call this home, and they whisper me 
 
 That my thoughts are but truants now ; 
 But there's many a home o'er the deep blue sea, 
 And love-lit eyes 'neath the banyan-tree 
 Or the shade of the orange-bough ! 
 
 E. W. B. Canning. 
 
 BY THE SEA. 
 
 O LOWLY, steadily, under the moon, 
 *^ Swings the tide, in its old-time way ; 
 Never too late, and never too soon, — 
 
 And the evening and morning make the day. 
 
 Slowly, steadily, over the sands, 
 And over the rocks, to fall and flow, 
 
 And this wave has touched a dead man's hands, 
 And that one has seen a face we know. 
 
 They have borne the good ship on her way. 
 Or buried her deep from love and light ; 
 
 And yet, as they sink at our feet to-day. 
 
 Ah, who shall interpret their message aright ? 
 
BY THE SEA. 177 
 
 For their separate voices of grief and cheer 
 Are blending at last in one solemn tone ; 
 
 And only this song of the waves I hear, 
 " Forever and ever His will is done ! " 
 
 Slowly, steadily, to and fro, 
 
 Swings our life in its weary way ; 
 Now at its ebb, and now at its flow, — 
 
 And the evening and morning make the day. 
 
 Sorrow and happiness, peace and strife, 
 Fear and rejoicing, its moments know, — 
 
 How, from the discords of such a life. 
 Can the clear music of heaven flow ? 
 
 Yet to the ear of God it swells. 
 And to the blessed round the throne. 
 
 Sweeter than chimes of Sabbath bells, — 
 " Forever and ever His will is done ! " 
 
 Anon. 
 
 BY THE SEA. 
 
 T WALKED with her I love by the sea. 
 
 The deep came up with its chanting waves. 
 Making a music so great and free 
 That the will and the faith, which were dead in me, 
 Awoke and rose from their graves. 
 
178 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Chanting, and with a regal sweep 
 
 Of their 'broidered garments up and down 
 
 The strand, came the mighty waves of the deep, 
 Dragging the wave-worn drift from its sleep 
 Along the sea-sands bare and brown. 
 
 " O my soul, make the song of the sea ! " I cried. 
 
 " How it comes, with its stately tread. 
 And its dreadful voice, and the splendid pride 
 
 Of its regal garments flowing wide 
 
 Over the land ! " to my soul I said. 
 
 My soul was still ; the deep went down. 
 
 " What hast thou, my soul," I cried, 
 " In thy song ? '^ " The sea-sands bare and brown, 
 
 With broken shells and sea-weed strown, 
 And stranded drift," my soul replied. 
 
 W. D. HowELLs; 
 
 BUBBLES. 
 
 T STOOD on the brink in childhood, 
 -^ And watched the bubbles go 
 From the rock-fretted, sunny ripple 
 To the smoother tide below ; 
 
 And over the white creek-bottom, 
 
 Under them every one. 
 Went golden stars in the water, 
 
 All luminous with the sun. 
 
PLEASURE-PAIN. 1 7 9 
 
 But the bubbles broke on the surface ; 
 
 And under, the stars of gold 
 Broke ; and the hurrying water 
 
 Flowed onward, swift and cold. 
 
 I stood on the brink in manhood, 
 And it came to my weary brain, 
 
 And my heart, so dull and heavy 
 After the years of pain, — 
 
 That every hollowest bubble 
 
 Which over my life had passed 
 
 Still into its deeper current 
 
 Some heavenly gleam had cast ; 
 
 That, however I mocked it gayly. 
 And guessed at its hollowness, 
 
 Still shone, with each bursting bubble, 
 One star in my soul the less. 
 
 W. D. HOWKLLS. 
 
 PLEASURE-PAIN. 
 
 /^NE sails away to sea, 
 ^-^ One stands on the shore and cries ; 
 The ship goes down the world, and the light 
 On the sullen water dies. 
 
i8o SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 The whispering shell is mute, 
 
 And after is evil cheer : 
 She shall stand on the shore and cry in vain 
 
 Many and many a year. 
 
 But the stately, wide-winged ship 
 Lies wrecked on the unknown deep ; 
 
 Far under, dead in his coral bed, 
 The lover hes asleep. 
 
 II. 
 
 Like a bird of evil presage, 
 
 To the lonely house on the shore 
 Came the wind with a tale of shipwreck, 
 
 And shrieked at the bolted door, 
 
 And flapped its wings in the gables, 
 And shouted the well-known names. 
 
 And buffeted the windows 
 
 Afeard in their shuddering frames. 
 
 It was night, and it is morning, — 
 
 The summer sun is bland. 
 The white-cap waves come rocking, rocking 
 
 In to the summer land. 
 
 The white-cap waves come rocking, rocking 
 
 In the sun so soft and bright. 
 And toss and play with the dead man 
 
 Drowned in the storm last night. 
 
 W. D. HOWELLS. 
 
SONG OF THE BANISH SEA-KING. i8i 
 
 THE SEA. 
 
 TT surged and foamed on cold gray lands, 
 
 ■^ No life was in its waves : 
 
 It rolled and raged on barren strands, 
 
 Or thundered into caves ; 
 And yet it sang a glorious song, 
 An ancient paean loud and long. 
 
 It broke upon the new-made beach, 
 
 That roaring, restless Sea, 
 The only burden of its speech 
 
 One word, — Eternity ; 
 And ever sang that glorious song, 
 An ancient paean loud and long. 
 
 Edmund Sandars. 
 
 SONG OF THE DANISH SEA-KING. 
 
 /^UR bark is on the waters deep, our bright blade's 
 
 ^^ in our hand. 
 
 Our birthright is the ocean vast, — we scorn the 
 
 girdled land ; 
 And the hollow wind is our music brave, and none 
 
 can bolder be 
 Than the hoarse-tongued tempest raving o'er a proud 
 
 and swelling sea ! 
 
1 82 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Our bark is dancing on the waves, its tall masts 
 
 quivering bend 
 Before the gale, which hails us now with the hollo of a 
 
 friend ; 
 And its prow is sheering merrily the upcurled billow's 
 
 foam. 
 While our hearts, with throbbing gladness, cheer old 
 
 Ocean as our home. 
 
 Our eagle wings of might we stretch before the gallant 
 
 wind, 
 And we leave the tame and sluggish earth a dim mean 
 
 speck behind ; 
 We shoot into the untracked deep, as earth-freed 
 
 spirits soar, 
 Like stars of fire through boundless space, — through 
 
 realms without a shore ! 
 
 Lords of this wide-spread wilderness of waters, we 
 
 bound free, 
 The haughty elements alone dispute our sovereignty ; 
 No landmark doth our freedom let, for no law of man 
 
 can mete 
 The sky which arches o'er our head, the waves which 
 
 kiss our feet ! 
 
 The warrior of the land may back the wild horse, in 
 
 his pride ; 
 But a fiercer steed we dauntless breast, — the untamed 
 
 ocean tide ; 
 
WE EL MAY THE BOATIE ROW. 183 
 
 And a nobler tilt our bark careers, as it quells the 
 
 saucy wave, 
 While the herald storm peals o'er the deep the glories 
 
 of the brave. 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! the wind is up, — it bloweth fresh 
 and free, 
 
 And every cord instinct with life pipes loud its fear- 
 less glee ; 
 
 Big swell the bosomed sails with joy, and they madly 
 kiss the spray. 
 
 As proudly, through the foaming surge, the Sea- King 
 bears away ! 
 
 William Motherwell. 
 
 WEEL MAY THE BOATIE ROW. 
 
 TT7EEL may the boatie row, and better may it 
 
 ' ^ speed, 
 Weel may the boatie row that gains the bairnies' bread. 
 The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows fu' 
 
 weel. 
 And mickle luck attend the boat, the merhn, and the 
 creel. 
 
 I cast my line in Largo Bay, and fishes I caught nine ; 
 Three to boil, and three to fry, and three to bait the 
 
 line. 
 The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows 
 
 indeed. 
 And happy be the lot of a' who wishes her to speed. 
 
184 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 When Sawnie, Jock, and Janetie are up and gotten 
 
 lear, 
 They'll help to gar the boatie row, and lighten all our 
 
 care. 
 The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows fu' 
 
 weel, 
 And lightsome be her heart that bears the merlin and 
 
 the creel. 
 
 And when wi' age we're worn down, and hirpling at 
 
 the door, 
 They'll row to keep us dry and warm, as we did them 
 
 before. 
 The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows 
 
 indeed, 
 And happy be tlie lot of a' that wish the boat to speed. 
 
 John Ewen. 
 
 TOO LONG, O SPIRIT OF STORM. 
 
 'T^OO long, O spirit of Storm, 
 -'■ Thy lightning sleeps in its sheath ! 
 I am sick to the soul of yon pallid sky, 
 And the moveless sea beneath. 
 
 Come down in thy strength on the deep ! 
 
 Worse dangers there are in life, 
 When the waves are still, and the skies look fair, 
 
 Than in their wildest strife. 
 
STORM-SONG. 185 
 
 A friend I knew, whose days 
 
 Were as calm as this sky overhead ; 
 
 But one blue morn that was fairest of all, 
 The heart in his bosom fell dead. 
 
 And they thought him alive while he walked 
 The streets that he walked in youth, — • 
 
 Ah ! little they guessed the seeming man 
 Was a soulless corpse in sooth. 
 
 Come down in thy strength, O Storm ! 
 
 And lash the deep till it raves ! 
 I am sick to the soul of that quiet sea, 
 
 Which hides ten thousand graves. 
 
 Henry Timrod. 
 
 STORM-SONG. 
 
 'T^HE clouds are scudding across the moon, 
 •*• A misty light is on the sea ; 
 
 The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune, 
 And the foam is flying free. 
 
 Brothers, a night of terror and gloom 
 Speaks in the cloud and gathering roar : 
 
 Thank God, He has given us broad sea-room, 
 A thousand miles from shore. 
 
 Down with the hatches on those who sleep 1 
 The wild and whistling deck have we : 
 
 Good watch, my brothers, to-night we'll keep, 
 While the tempest is on the sea ! 
 
1 86 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Though the rigging shriek in his terrible grip, 
 And the naked spars be snapped away, 
 
 Lashed to the helm, we'll drive our ship 
 In the teeth of the whelming spray ! 
 
 Hark ! how the surges o'erleap the deck ! 
 
 Hark ! how the pitiless tempest raves ! 
 Ah. daylight will look upon many a wreck 
 
 Drifting over the desert waves. 
 
 Yet, courage, brothers ! we trust the wave. 
 With God above us, our guiding chart ; 
 
 So, whether to harbor or ocean-grave, 
 Be it still with a cheery heart ! 
 
 Bayard Taylor. 
 
 THE LONG WHITE SEAM. 
 
 A S I came round the harbor buoy. 
 The lights began to gleam, 
 
 o a o 7 
 
 No wave the land-locked harbor stirred, 
 
 The crags were white as cream ; 
 And I marked my love by candle-light 
 Sewing her long white seam. 
 
 It's aye sewing ashore, my dear, 
 
 Watch and steer at sea ; 
 It's reef and furl and haul the line, 
 Set sail and think of thee. 
 
SONG OF THE GALLEY. 187 
 
 I climbed to reach her cottage door ; 
 
 O sweetly my love sings ; 
 Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth, 
 
 My soul to meet it springs, 
 As the shining water leaped of old, 
 When stirred by angel wings. 
 Aye longing to list anew, 
 
 Awake and in my dream ; 
 But never a song she sang hke this, 
 Sewing her long white seam. 
 
 Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights 
 
 That brought me in to thee. 
 And peace drop down on that low roof 
 
 For the sight that I did see, 
 And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear, 
 All for the love of me. 
 
 For O, for O, with brows bent low, 
 By the candle's flickering gleam, 
 Her wedding gown it was she wrought, 
 Sewing the long white seam. 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE GALLEY. 
 
 From the Spanish. 
 
 I. 
 """VT^E mariners of Spain, 
 
 ■*■ Bend strongly on your oars. 
 
 And bring my love again. 
 For he lies among the Moors. 
 
1 88 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Ye galleys fairly built 
 Like castles on the sea, 
 O great will be your guilt, 
 If ye bring him not to me. 
 
 III. 
 
 " The wind is blowing strong, 
 The breeze will aid your oars \ 
 O swiftly fly along, 
 For he lies among the Moors. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " The sweet breeze of the sea 
 Cools every cheek but mine : 
 Hot is its breath to me. 
 As I gaze upon the brine. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Lift up, lift up your sail. 
 And bend upon your oars ; 
 
 lose not the fair gale. 
 
 For he lies among the Moors. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " It is a narrow strait, 
 
 1 see the blue hills over ; 
 Your coming I'll await. 
 And thank you for my lover. 
 
BOAT-SONG.— A MYTH. 189 
 
 VII. 
 
 " To Mary I will pray, 
 
 While ye bend upon your oars ; 
 
 'Twill be a blessed day, 
 
 If ye fetch him from the Moors." 
 
 J. G. LOCKHART. 
 
 BOAT-SONG. 
 
 r\ SWEET the flight at dead of night, 
 ^-^ When, up the immeasurable height, 
 The thin cloud wanders with the breeze 
 That shakes the splendor from the star, 
 That stoops and crisps the darkling seas 
 And drives the daring keel afar. 
 Where solitude and silence are ! 
 To cleave the crested wave, and mark 
 Drowned in its depths the shattered spark, 
 On airy swells to soar and rise, 
 Where nothing but the foam-bell flies. 
 O'er freest tracks of wild delight, — 
 O sweet the flight at dead of night ! 
 
 Harriet Prescott Spofford. 
 
 A MYTH. 
 
 A FLOATING, a floating 
 ■^ ^ Across the sleeping sea, 
 All night I heard a singing bird 
 Upon the topmast tree. 
 
igo SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 " Oh, came you from the isles of Greece 
 
 Or from the banks of Seine ? 
 Or off some tree in forests free 
 
 .That fringe the western main ?" 
 
 " I came not off the old world, 
 
 Nor yet from off the new ; 
 But I am one of the birds of God 
 
 Which sing the whole night through." 
 
 " Oh, sing and wake the dawning ! 
 
 Oh, whistle for the wind ! 
 The night is long, the current strong, 
 
 My boat it lags behind." 
 
 " The current sweeps the old world, 
 
 The current sweeps the new ; 
 The wind will blow, the dawn will glow, 
 
 Ere thou hast sailed them through." 
 
 C. KiNGSLEY. 
 
 A LITTLE WHILE. 
 
 A LITTLE while, a little love 
 ■^ ^ The hour yet bears for thee and me, 
 Who have not drawn the veil to see 
 
 If still our heaven be lit above. 
 Thou merely, at the day's last sigh. 
 
 Hast felt thy soul prolong the tone ; 
 And I have heard the night-wind cry, 
 
 And deemed its speech my own. 
 
AGAIN? 191 
 
 A little while, a little love 
 The scattering Autumn hoards for us, 
 Whose bower is not yet ruinous, 
 
 Nor quite unleaved our songless grove. 
 Only across the shaken boughs 
 
 We hear the flood-tides seek the sea, 
 And deep in both our hearts they rouse 
 
 One wail for thee and me. 
 
 A little while, a little love 
 May yet be ours who have not said 
 The word it makes our eyes afraid 
 
 To know that each is thinking of. 
 Not yet the end ; be our hps dumb 
 
 In smiles a little season yet ; 
 I'll tell thee, when the end is come, 
 
 How we may best forget. 
 
 Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 
 
 AGAIN ? 
 
 /^H, sweet and fair ! Oh, rich and rare ! 
 
 ^-^ That day so long ago. 
 
 The Autumn sunshine everywhere, 
 
 The heather all aglow, 
 The ferns were clad in cloth of gold, 
 
 The waves sang on the shore. 
 Such suns will shine, such waves will sing 
 
 Forever evermore. 
 
192 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Oh, fit and few ! Oh, tried and true ! 
 
 The friends who met that day. 
 Each one the other's spirit knew, 
 
 And so in earnest play 
 The hours flew past, until at last 
 
 The twilight kissed the shore. 
 We said, " Such days shall come again 
 
 Forever evermore." 
 
 One day again, no cloud of pain 
 
 A shadow o'er us cast ; 
 And yet we strove in vain, in vain, 
 
 To conjure up the past ; 
 Like, but unHke, — the sun that shone, 
 
 The waves that beat the shore. 
 The words we said, the songs we sung, 
 evermore. 
 
 For ghosts unseen crept in between. 
 
 And, when our songs flowed free, 
 Sang discords in an undertone, 
 
 And marred our harmony. 
 "The past is ours, not yours," they said: 
 
 " The waves that beat the shore. 
 Though like the same, are not the same, 
 
 Oh, never, never more ! " 
 
 Eraser's Magazine. 
 
THE SURVIVORS. 193 
 
 THE SURVIVORS. 
 
 TN this sad hour, so still, so late, 
 -■- When flowers are dead and birds are flown, 
 Close-sheltered from the blasts of Fate, 
 Our little love burns brightly on. 
 
 Amid the wrecks of dear desire 
 
 That ride the waves of hfe no more ; 
 
 As stranded voyagers light their fire 
 Upon a lonely island shore. 
 
 And though we deem that, soft and fair, 
 
 Beyond the tempest and the sea, 
 Our hearts' true homes are smihng, where 
 
 In life we never more shall be, — 
 
 Yet we are saved, and we may rest ; 
 
 And, hearing each the other's voice, 
 We cannot hold ourselves unblest, 
 
 Although we may not quite rejoice. 
 
 We'll warm our hearts and softly sing 
 Thanks for the shore whereon we're driven ; 
 
 Storm-tossed no more, we'll fold the wing. 
 And dream forgotten dreams of heaven. 
 
 H. w. p. 
 
194 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 THINE. 
 
 'T^HE tide will ebb at day's decline. 
 -■- (Ich bin dein.) 
 
 Impatient for the open sea, 
 At anchor rocks the tossing ship, — 
 The ship that only waits for thee ; 
 Yet, with no tremble of the lip, 
 I say again, thy hand in mine, 
 
 (Ich bin dein). 
 
 Too many clusters break the vine. 
 
 (Ich bin dein.) 
 The tree whose strength and life outpour 
 In one exultant blossom-gush 
 Must flowerless be for evermore ; 
 We walk this way but once, friend, — hush ! 
 Our feet have left no trodden Hne. 
 
 (Ich bin dein.) 
 
 Who heaps his goblet wastes his wine. 
 
 (Ich bin dein.) 
 The boat is moving from the land, 
 I have no chiding and no tears. 
 Now give me back my empty hand, 
 To battle with the cruel years ! 
 Behold the triumph shall be mine ! 
 
 (Ich bin dein.) 
 
 Elizabeth Akers. 
 
ALL THE RIVERS. 19S 
 
 ALL THE RIVERS. 
 
 A 
 
 LL the rivers run into the sea." 
 Like the pulsing of a river, 
 The motion of a song, 
 
 Wind the olden words along 
 The tortuous windings of my thought, whenever 
 I sit beside the sea. 
 
 All the rivers run into the sea. 
 
 O you little leaping river. 
 Laugh on beneath your breath ! 
 With a heart as deep as death, 
 
 Strong stream, go patient, brave and hasting never, 
 I sit beside the sea. 
 
 All the rivers run into the sea. 
 
 Why the striving of a river, 
 
 The passion of a soul ? 
 
 Calm the eternal waters roll 
 Upon the eternal shore. Somewhere, whatever 
 Seeks it finds the sea. 
 
 All the rivers run into the sea. 
 
 O thou bounding, burning river. 
 
 Hurrying heart ! — I seem 
 
 To know (so one knows in a dream) 
 
 That in the waiting heart of God for ever 
 Thou too shalt find the sea. 
 
 Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. 
 
196 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 TN the summer twilight, 
 
 While yet the dew was hoar, 
 I went plucking purple pansies 
 
 Till my love should come to shore. 
 The fishing-lights their dances 
 
 Were keeping out at sea. 
 And " Come," I sang, " my true love, 
 
 Come hasten home to me ! " 
 
 But the sea it fell a-moaning, 
 
 And the white gulls rocked thereon, 
 And the young moon dropped from heaven, 
 
 And the lights hid, one by one. 
 All silently their glances 
 
 Slipped down the cruel sea, 
 And " Wait," cried the night and wind and 
 storm, 
 
 " Wait till I come to thee ! " 
 
 Harriet Prescott Spofford. 
 
 ''WHEN THE TIDE COMES IN." 
 
 TT THEN the tide comes in, 
 ^^ At once the shore and sea begin 
 Together to be glad. 
 What the tide has brought 
 No man has asked, no man has sought : 
 
" WHEN THE TIDE COMES IN?' 197 
 
 What other tides have had 
 The deep sand hides away ; 
 The last bit of the wrecks they wrought 
 Was burned up yesterday. 
 
 When the tide goes out. 
 The shore looks dark and sad with doubt. 
 
 The landmarks are all lost. 
 
 For the tide to turn 
 Men patient wait, men restless yearn. 
 
 Sweet channels they have crossed, 
 
 In boats that rocked with glee. 
 Stretch now bare stony roads, that burn 
 
 And lead away from sea. 
 
 When the tide comes in 
 In hearts, at once the hearts begin 
 
 Together to be glad. 
 
 What the tide has brought 
 They do not care, they have not sought. 
 
 All joy they ever had 
 
 The new joy multiplies ; 
 All pain by which it may be bought 
 
 Seems paltry sacrifice. 
 
 When the tide goes out. 
 The hearts are wrung with fear and doubt : 
 
 All trace of joy seems lost. 
 
 Will the tide return ? 
 In restless questioning they yearn. 
 
198 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 With hands unclasped, uncrossed, 
 They weep, on separate ways. 
 Ah ! darhng, shall we ever learn 
 Love's tidal hours and days ? 
 
 H. H. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 TT 7E sail toward evening's lonely star, 
 ^ ' That trembles in the tender blue ; 
 One single cloud, a dusky bar, 
 
 Burnt with dull carmine through and through, 
 Slow smouldering in the summer sky. 
 
 Lies low along the fading west ; 
 How sweet to watch its splendors die. 
 
 Wave-cradled thus, and wind-caressed ! 
 
 The soft breeze freshens ; leaps the spray 
 
 To kiss our cheeks with sudden cheer. 
 Upon the dark edge of the bay 
 
 Lighthouses kindle far and near. 
 And through the warm deeps of the sky 
 
 Steal faint star-clusters, while we rest 
 In deep refreshment, thou and I, 
 
 Wave-cradled thus, and wind-caressed. 
 
 How like a dream are earth and heaven, 
 Star-beam and darkness, sky and sea ; 
 
 Thy face, pale in the shadowy even, 
 Thy quiet eyes that gaze on me ! 
 
A WET SHEET AND FLOWING SEA. 199 
 
 Oh, realize the moment's charm, 
 
 Thou dearest ! We are at life's best, 
 
 Folded in God's encircling arm, 
 Wave-cradled thus, and wind-caressed ! 
 
 Celia Thaxter. 
 
 A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. 
 
 A WET sheet and a flowing sea, — 
 -^^^ A wind that follows fast, 
 That fills the white and rustling sail, 
 
 And bends the gallant mast, — 
 And bends the gallant mast, my boys, 
 
 While, Uke the eagle free, 
 Away the good ship flies, and leaves 
 
 Old England on the lee. 
 
 Oh for a soft and gentle wind ! 
 
 I heard a fair one cry ; 
 But give to me the snoring breeze, 
 
 And white waves heaving high, — 
 And white waves heaving high, my boys, 
 
 The good ship tight and free ; 
 The world of waters is our home, 
 
 And merry men are we. 
 
 There's tempest in yon horned moon. 
 
 And lightning in yon cloud ; 
 And hark the music, mariners ! 
 
 The wind is piping loud, — 
 
SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 The wind is piping loud, my boys. 
 
 The lightning flashing free ; 
 While the hollow oak our palace is, 
 
 Our heritage the sea. 
 
 Allan Cunningham. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 npHERE be none of beauty's daughters 
 
 ■^ With a magic like thee ; 
 And hke music on the waters 
 Is thy sweet voice to me ; 
 When, as if its sound were causing 
 The charmed ocean's pausing, 
 The waves he still and gleaming, 
 And the lulled winds seem dreaming, 
 
 And the midnight moon is weaving 
 Her bright chain o'er the deep. 
 
 Whose breast is gently heaving, 
 As an infant's asleep ; 
 
 So the spirit bows before thee, 
 
 To listen and adore thee 
 
 With a full but soft emotion, 
 
 Like the swell of summer's ocean. 
 
 Byron. 
 
THE FISHING-SONG. 
 
 THE FISHING-SONG. 
 
 TPvOWN in the wide, gray river 
 -■-^ The current is sweeping strong : 
 Over the wide, gray river 
 Floats the fisherman's song. 
 
 The oar-stroke times the singing, 
 The song falls with the oar ; 
 
 And an echo in both is ringing 
 I thought to hear no more. 
 
 Out of a deeper current 
 The song brings back to me 
 
 A cry from mortal silence 
 Of mortal agony. 
 
 Life that was spent and vanished, 
 Love that had died of wrong. 
 
 Hearts that are dead in living, 
 
 Come back in the fisherman's song. 
 
 I see the maples leafing 
 
 Just as they leafed before ; 
 The green grass comes no greener 
 
 Down to the very shore, — 
 
 With the rude strain, swelling, sinking, 
 
 In the cadence of days gone by, 
 As the oar, from the water drinking, 
 
 Ripples the mirrored sky. 
 
202 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Yet the soul hath life diviner ; 
 
 Its past returns no more, 
 But in echoes, that answer the minor 
 
 Of the boat-song from the shore. 
 
 And the ways of God are darkness ; 
 
 His judgment waiteth long ; 
 He breaks the heart of a woman 
 
 With a fisherman's careless song. 
 
 Rose Terry. 
 
 "BREAK, BREAK, BREAK." 
 
 "OREAK, break, break, 
 -'-^ On thy cold gray stones, O sea ! 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 The thoughts that arise in me. 
 
 Oh, well for the fisherman's boy 
 
 That he shouts with his sister at play ! 
 
 Oh, well for the sailor lad 
 
 That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 
 
 And the stately ships go on 
 
 To the haven under the hill ; 
 But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, 
 
 And the sound of a voice that is still ! 
 
 Break, break, break, 
 
 At the foot of thy crags, O sea ! 
 But the tender grace of a day that is dead 
 
 Will never come back to me. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
ODE TO NEPTUNE. 203 
 
 ODE TO NEPTUNE, 
 On Mrs. W 's Voyage to England. 
 
 By Phillis Wheatly, an African slave in Boston, Oct. 10, 1772. 
 
 WHILE raging tempests shake the shore, 
 While .^olus' thunders round us roar, 
 And sweep impetuous o'er the plain. 
 Be still, O tyrant of the main ; 
 Nor let thy brow contracted frowns betray, 
 While my Susannah skims the watery way. 
 
 The Power propitious hears the lay, 
 The blue-eyed daughters of the sea 
 With sweeter cadence glide along. 
 And Thames responsive joins the song. 
 Pleased with their note, Sol sheds benign his ray, 
 And double radiance decks the face of day. 
 
 To court thee to Britannia's arms. 
 Serene the chme and mild the sky ; 
 Her region boasts unnumbered charms ; 
 Thy welcome smiles in ev'ry eye. 
 Thy promise, Neptune, keep ; record my prayer. 
 Nor give my wishes to the empty air. 
 
204 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 REMEMBEREST THOU THE DAY? 
 
 From Lermontoff 
 
 "P EMEMBEREST thou the day when we — 
 ■*-^ Late was the hour — were forced to part ? 
 The night-gun boomed athwart the sea ; 
 
 In painful silence beat each heart ; 
 The lonely day found cloudy close ; 
 
 A heavy mist the landscape palled ; 
 And seemed it, when a shot arose, 
 
 An echo from the ocean called. 
 
 Alone I wander by the flood ; 
 
 And when a gun booms in its might, 
 I think with pain how once we stood 
 
 Together on that parting night. 
 And, as the mournful echoes roll. 
 
 Muffled along the fluid walls. 
 From out the caverns of my soul 
 
 Death answeringly calls and calls. 
 
 W. R. Alger. 
 
LA MER. 205 
 
 LA MER. 
 
 T~\ES vastes mers tableau philosophique, 
 -*-^ Tu plais au cceur de chagrins agit€ : 
 Quand de ton sein, par les vents tourment^, 
 Quand des ecueils et des greves antiques 
 Sortent des bruits, des voix melancoliques, 
 L'ame attendrie en ses reves se perd, 
 Et, s'egarant de penser en penser 
 Comme les flots de murmure en murmure, 
 EUe se mele a toute la nature : 
 Avec les vents, dans le fond des deserts, 
 Elle gdmit le long des bois sauvages, 
 Sur r Ocean vole avec les orages, 
 Gronde en la foudre et tonne dans les mers. 
 
 Mais quand le jour sur les vagues tremblantes 
 S'en va mourir ; quand, souriant encor, 
 Le vieux soleil glace de pourpre et d'or 
 Le vert changeant des mers etincelantes, 
 Dans des lointains fuyants et veloutes, 
 En enfongant ma pensee et ma vue, 
 J'aime a creer des mondes enchantes, 
 Baignes des eaux d'une mer inconnue. 
 L'ardent desir, des obstacles vainqueur, 
 Trouve, embellit des rives bocageres, 
 Des lieux de paix, des iles de bonheur, 
 Ou, transporte par les douces chimeres, 
 Je m'abandonne aux songes de mon coeur. 
 
 Chateaubriand. 
 
206 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 LES DEUX ILES. 
 
 TL est deux isles dont un monde 
 
 ■*■ Sdpare les deux Oceans, 
 
 Et qui de loin dominent I'onde, 
 
 Comme des tetes de geants. 
 
 On devine, en voyant leurs cimes, 
 
 Que Dieu les tira des abimes 
 
 Pour un formidable dessein ; 
 
 Leur front de coups de foudre fume, 
 
 Sur leurs flancs nus la mer dcume, 
 
 Des volcans grondent dans leur sein. 
 
 Ces lies, ou le flot se broie 
 Entre des ecueils decharnes, 
 Sont comme des vaisseaux de proie, 
 D'une ancre eternelle enchamds. 
 La main qui de ces noirs rivages 
 Disposa les sites sauvages, 
 Et d'effroi les voulut couvrir, 
 Les fit si terribles peut-etre. 
 Pour que Bonaparte y put naitre, 
 Et Napoleon y mourir ! 
 
 " — La fut son berceau ! — Ik sa tombe ! ' 
 
 Pour les siecles, e'en est assez. 
 
 Ces mots, qu'un monde naisse ou tombe, 
 
 Ne seront jamais effaces. 
 
 Sur ces lies, a I'aspect sombre, 
 
 Viendront, k I'appel de son ombre, 
 
LES SONS NOCTURNES DE LA MER, 207 
 
 Tous les peuples de I'avenir ; 
 Les foudres qui frappent leurs cretes, 
 Et leurs ecueils, et leurs tempetes, 
 Ne sont plus que son souvenir ! 
 
 Loin de nos rives, ebranlees 
 Par les orages de son sort, 
 Sur ces deux iles isolees 
 Dieu mit sa naissance et sa mort, 
 Afin qu'il piit venir au monde 
 Sans qu'une secousse profonde 
 Annongat son premier moment, 
 Et que sur son lit militaire, 
 Enfin, sans remuer la terre, 
 II put expirer doucement ! 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 UNE NUIT QU'ON ENTENDAIT LA MER 
 SANS LA VOIR. 
 
 QUELS sont ces bruits sourds ? 
 Ecouter vers Tonde 
 Cette voix profonde 
 Qui pleure toujours 
 Et qui toujours gronde, 
 Quoiqu'un son plus clair 
 Parfois I'interrompe. — 
 Le vent de la mer 
 Souffle dans sa trompe ! 
 
2o8 . SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Comme il pleut ce soir ! 
 N'est-ce pas, mon bote ? 
 La-bas, a la cote, 
 Le del est bien noir, 
 La mer est bien haute ! 
 On dirait I'hiver ; 
 Parfois on s'y trompe. — 
 Le vent de la mer 
 Souffle dans sa trompe. 
 
 Oh ! marins perdus ! 
 Au loin, dans cette ombre, 
 Sur la nef qui sombre, 
 Que de bras tendus 
 Vers la terre sombre ! 
 Pas d'ancre de fer 
 Que le flot ne rompe. — 
 Le vent de la mer 
 Souffle dans sa trompe. 
 
 Nochers imprudents ! 
 Le vent dans la voile 
 Dechire la toile 
 Comme avec les dents ! 
 La-haut pas d'etoile ! 
 L'un lutte avec I'air, 
 L'autre est a la pompe. — 
 Le vent de la mer 
 Souffle dans sa trompe. 
 
LES DEUX VAISSEAUX. 209 
 
 C'est toi, c'est ton feu 
 Que le nocher reve, 
 Quand le fiot s'eleve, 
 Chandelier que Dieu 
 Pose sur la greve ! 
 Phare au rouge eclair 
 Que la brume estompe — 
 Le vent de la mer 
 SoufEe dans sa trompe. 
 
 Victor Hugo, Juillet, 1836. 
 
 LES DEUX VAISSEAUX. 
 
 O OUVENT sur les mers ou se joue 
 *^ La tempete aux ailes de feu, 
 Je voyais passer sur ma proue 
 Le haut mat que le vent secoue 
 Et pour qui la vague est un jeu ! 
 
 Ses voiles ouvertes et pleines 
 Aspiraient le souffle des flots, 
 Et ses vigoureuses antennes 
 Balancaient sur les vertes plaines 
 Ses ponts charges de matelots. 
 
 La lame en vain dans la oarriere 
 Battait en grondant ses sabords, 
 II la renvoyait en poussiere, 
 Comme un coursier seme en arriere 
 La blanche ecume de son mors. ! 
 14 
 
2IO SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 Longue course k I'heureux navire ! 
 Disais-je : en trois bonds il a fui ! 
 La vaste mer est son empire, 
 Son horison n'a que sourire, 
 Et I'univers est devant lui ! 
 
 Mais d'une humble voile sur I'onde 
 Si je distinguais la blancheur ' 
 Esquif que chaque lame inonde, 
 Seule demeure qu'ait au monde, 
 Le foyer flottant du pecheur : 
 
 Lorsque au soir sur la vague brune, 
 La suivant du coeur et de I'ceil, 
 Je m'attachais a sa fortune, 
 Et priais les vents et la lune 
 De la ddfendre de I'ecueil. 
 
 Sous une voile dont I'orage 
 En lambeaux deroulait les plis, 
 Je voyais le frele equipage 
 Disputer son mat qui surnage 
 Aux coups du vent et du roulis. 
 
 Debout le pere de famille 
 Labourait les flots divisds ; 
 Le fils manoeuvrait, et la fille 
 Recousait avec son aiguille 
 La voile ou les filets usds. 
 
LES DEUX VAISSEAUX. 2il 
 
 Des enfants accroupis sur I'atre 
 Soufflaient la cendre du matin, 
 Et deja la flamme bleuatre 
 Egayait le couple folatre 
 De I'espoir d'un frugal festin. 
 
 Appuye au mat qui chancelle, 
 Et que sa main tient embrassd, 
 La mere les couvait de I'aile, 
 Et suspendait \ sa mamelle 
 Le plus jeune a son ecu bercd. 
 
 lis n'dnt, disais-je, dans la vie 
 Que cette tente et ses tresors ; 
 Ces trois planches sont leur patrie, 
 Et cette terre en vain cherie 
 Le repousse de tous ses bords ! 
 
 En vain du palais et d'ombrage 
 Ce golfe immense est couronne. 
 lis n'ont pour tenir au rivage 
 Que I'anneau ronge par Forage 
 De quelque mole abandonne ! 
 
 lis n'ont pour fortune et pour joie 
 Que les refrains de leur couplets, 
 L'ombre que la voile deploie. 
 La brise que Dieu leur envoie, ' 
 
 Et ce qui tombe des filets. 
 
 Alphonse de Lamartine. 
 
212 SEA AND SHORE. 
 
 LE RETOUR DU MARIN. 
 
 " "pETITS enfants, vos jeunes yeux 
 
 -*- Entre Peau qui gronde et les cieux 
 Ont-ils vu blanchir une voile ? 
 Celle dont j'ai fild la toile, 
 Si mon reve dit I'avenir 
 Avant I'hiver doit revenir." 
 
 " Oui, tantot sur la roche nue, 
 En regardant I'errante nue, 
 Nous avons vu la-bas, la-bas, 
 Rouler une voile sans mats." 
 
 " Enfants des pauvres matelots 
 Dont les peres sont sur les flots, 
 Votre voix pent percer I'orage ; 
 Criez de tout votre courage ! 
 Dans I'eclair aux sombres couleurs 
 Voit-on flotter nos trois couleurs ? " 
 
 " Non : du haut de la roche nue, 
 Quand I'eclair dechire la nue, 
 Sur ce pont qui flotte vers nous 
 On ne voit qu'un homme a genoux." 
 
 " C'est lui fidele et courageux, 
 Au fond de mon reve orageux 
 Cette nuit je I'ai vu paraitre ; 
 Descendez pour le reconnaitre ! 
 Moi, j'ai tant pleurd que mes yeux 
 Ne verront plus Jame qu'aux cieux ! " 
 
LE RE TOUR DU MARIN. 213 
 
 L'a jetd sur la roche nue ! 
 S'il n'a pas cesse de soufFrir, 
 Descendons I'aider k mourir ! " 
 
 Et les enfants des matelots 
 Retirerent Jame des flots. 
 C'dtait Jame ! et la fiancee 
 Vint toucher a sa main glac^e 
 Son doux lien, son anneau d'or ; 
 Car Jame le portait encore ! 
 
 Qu'ils sont bien sous la roche nue, 
 A I'abri de I'errante nue, 
 Oublieux de leurs mauvais jours, 
 Morts — et maries pour toujours ! 
 
 Mme. Desbordes-Valmore. 
 
INDEX OF AUTHORS. 
 
 Abbey, Henry, 173, 174. 
 Akers, Elizabeth, 131, 168, 194. 
 Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, loi. 
 'Allingham, William, 163, 164. 
 Anonymous, 24, 26, 34, 71, 90, 
 
 122, 123, 176, 191. 
 Appleton, Thomas G., 93, 147. 
 Arnold, Matthew, 58, 100, 102. 
 Aubenel, Theodore (Provengal), 
 
 so- 
 Brown, Frances, no. 
 Browning, Robert, 45, 48, 98, 150. 
 Byron, George Gordon, 105, 200. 
 
 Campbell, Thomas, 85. 
 Canning, E. W. B., 175. 
 Gary, Alice, 54, 142. 
 Chateaubriand, Frangois Augusta, 
 
 205. 
 Clough, Arthur Hugh, 109. 
 Cornwall, Barry, 104, 138. 
 Cowper, William, 86, 108. 
 Cranch, Christopher Pearse, 165. 
 Cunningham; Allan, 199. 
 
 Dana, Richard H., 142. 
 Davies, John, 136. 
 
 Eliot, George, 5. 
 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 118. 
 
 Ennlus (Greek), 5. 
 Euripides (Greek), 7. 
 Ewald, John, 34. 
 Ewen, John, 183. 
 
 Garrett, R., 41. 
 
 Gay, John, 39. 
 
 Goethe, John Wolfgang, 31. 
 
 Gould, Hannah F., 117. 
 
 Gray, Barry, 128. 
 
 Grossi, F. (Italian), 32. 
 
 H. H., Ill, 196. 
 Harte, Bret, 77, 96, 130. 
 HavergaU, Frances R., 127. 
 Hemans, Felicia, 43. 
 Holmes, Oliver Vv^endell, 82, 88. 
 Homer (Greek), i, 2. 
 Howe, Julia Ward, 135. 
 HoweUs, William D., 177, 178, 
 
 179, 180. 
 Hugo, Victor, 206. 207. 
 
 Ingelow, Jean, 186. 
 
 Kemble, Frances Anne, 144. 
 Kingsley, Charles, 21, 36, 189. 
 
 Lamartine, Alphonse, 209. 
 Larcom, Lucy, 75. 
 
2l6 
 
 INDEX OF AUTHORS. 
 
 Lear, Edward, 78. 
 
 Lermontoff, Michael Ivanovitch 
 
 (Russian), 204. 
 Lockhart, John G., 187. 
 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 28, 
 
 56, 83, 91, 167. 
 Lowell, James Russell, 98. 
 
 Martin, Theodore, 37. 
 Meredith, Owen, 148. 
 Miller, Joaquin, 158, 159. 
 Montgomery, James, 95. 
 Morris, William, 14, 16. 
 Moschus (Greek), 8. 
 Motherwell, William, 181. 
 Moulton, Louise Chandler, 133. 
 Muloch, Dinah M., 92, 157. 
 
 Onomacritus (Greek), 3. 
 Osborne, Alice, 97. 
 
 Percival, James G., 140. 
 Phelps, Elizabeth Stuart, 195. 
 Philostratus (Greek), 9. 
 Pindar (Greek), 4. 
 Posidippus (Greek), 5. 
 Preston, H. W, 193. 
 
 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 152, 190. 
 
 Sandars, Edmund, 181. 
 Simonides (Greek), 6, 6. 
 Spofford, Harriet Prescott, 189, 
 
 196. 
 Stedman, Edmund C., 160. 
 Sterling, John, 42, 137. 
 Stoddard, R. H., 143, 143. 
 Stolle, 22. 
 
 Story, William W,, g4. 
 Swinburne, Algernon C, 153. 
 
 Taylor, Bayard, 169, 170, 171, 185. 
 Tennyson, Alfred, 89, 124, 125, 
 
 126, 202. 
 Terry, Rose, 201. 
 Thaxter, Celia, 103, 161, 198. 
 Thoreau, Henry D., 120, 121. 
 Timrod, Henry, 184. 
 Trowbridge, J. T., 116. 
 
 Virgil (Latin), 10, 12. 
 
 Valmore, Marceline Desbordes, 
 
 Wasson, Da^^d A., 114. 
 Wheatley, Phillis (African), 203. 
 Whittier, John Greenleaf, 63, 66, 
 
 68. 
 Wilson, John, 139. 
 Wordsworth, William, 136. 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Across the narrow beach we flit 103 
 
 A floating, a floating 189 
 
 Ah ! what pleasant visions haunt me 28 
 
 Ah, why, my brother mariners 5 
 
 Alas ! poor souls and timorous 16 
 
 A little while, a little love 190 
 
 All in the Downs the fleet was moored 39 
 
 All in the summer even 133 
 
 All the rivers run into the sea 195 
 
 Alone I walked the ocean strand 117 
 
 Alone upon the windy hills 165 
 
 And soon as by the vessel's bow 4 
 
 A maiden came gliding o' er the sea 42 
 
 And ever as he travelled he would climb v 
 
 As I came round the harbor buoy 186 
 
 As I stand by the cross on the lone mountain's crest 130 
 
 As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay 109 
 
 An anchor in Hampton Roads we lay 83 
 
 A thousand miles from land are we 104 
 
 A wet sheet and a flowing sea 199 
 
 Ay, tear her tattered ensign down 82 
 
 Beneath the low-hung night cloud 66 
 
 Break, break, break 202 
 
 By the billows and blasts driven and tost in the gloom 6 
 
 Can it be women that walk in the sea-mist 148 
 
 Come, dear children, let us away 58 
 
 Consider the sea's listless chime 152 
 
 *' Courage," he said, and pointed towards the land 19 
 
 Counting the hours by bells and lights iii 
 
 Des vastes mers tableau philosophique 205 
 
 Down in the wide, gray river 201 
 
 Down on the shore, on the sunny shore 163 
 
 Down to the wharves, as the sun goes down 131 
 
2i8 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Eastward as far as the eye can see 98 
 
 Fair ship that from the Italian shore 124 
 
 Far, far away, across the sea 30 
 
 Far on its rocky knoll descried 102 
 
 Far on the deep mid-ocean tossed 168 
 
 For lo ! the sea that fleets about the land 136 
 
 " Go, boy, and light the torch ! the night" 22 
 
 *' Go show to earth your power ! " the East Wind cried .... 147 
 
 Green fields are about me with hill and plain 175 
 
 Haste to the port ! The twnttering swallow calls 9 
 
 He said, and -with his spear struck wide to 
 
 High on the ledge the wind blows 161 
 
 I climbed the sea-worn cliffs 97 
 
 I have ships that went to sea 128 
 
 I heard or seemed to hear the chiding sea 118 
 
 I hear the noise about the keel 125 
 
 I leaned on the turf 150 
 
 II est deux iles dont un monde 206 
 
 In Mather's "Magnalia Christi" 56 
 
 In the summer twilight 196 
 
 In this sad hour, so still, so late 193 
 
 I stand beside the mobile sea 159 
 
 I stood on the brink in childhood 178 
 
 It is a beauteous evening, calm and free 136 
 
 It is the midnight hour : the beauteous sea 139 
 
 It surged and foamed on cold gray lands iSr 
 
 It was Earl Hal dan's daughter 36 
 
 I walked with her I love by the sea 177 
 
 King Christian stood by the lofty mast 34 
 
 Light as a flake of foam upon the wind 95 
 
 Like a bird of evil presage 180 
 
 Mariner, what of the deep? 123 
 
 My life is like a stroll upon the beach i3o 
 
 Nobly, nobly Cape St. Vincent to the north-west died away ... 98 
 
 No careless watch the monarch Neptune kept i 
 
 O bitter sea, tumultuous sea 14 
 
 O'er the smooth main, when scarce a zephjT blows 8 
 
 Of all the rides since the birth of time 68 
 
 O curfew of the setting sun! O bells of Lynn 91 
 
 Oh, sweet and fair ! Oh, rich and rare 191 
 
 Oh, I love to be out by the waters at night 142 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 219 
 
 PAGE 
 
 O mother, rede me well, I pray 37 
 
 O my white, white, light moon, that sailest in the sky 174 
 
 One sails away to sea 179 
 
 On the sea and at the Hogue 48 
 
 On the surface foam and roar 127 
 
 O sea, in evening's glow 34 
 
 O sweet the flight at dead of night 189 
 
 Oh, tell me, sailor, tell me true 54 
 
 Our bark is on the waters deep 181 
 
 Outside the garden 153 
 
 Over the sea our galleys went 45 
 
 " Petits enfants, vos jeunes yeux " 212 
 
 Pleasant it is to lie amid the grass loi 
 
 Poor lone Hannah 75 
 
 Quaint clusters of gray houses crowding down 90 
 
 Quels sont ces bruits sourds 207 
 
 Raise we the yard and ply the oar 137 
 
 Rememberest thou the day when we 204 
 
 Sauntering hither on listless wings i . . 96 
 
 See what a lovely shell 89 
 
 She lay among the myrtles on the cliff 21 
 
 Slowljr, steadily, under the moon 176 
 
 Souvent sur les mers ou se joue 209 
 
 Splendors of morning the billow-crests brighten 160 
 
 Swallow from beyond the sea 32 
 
 The billows swell, the winds are high 108 
 
 The breaking waves dashed high 43 
 
 The clouds are scudding across the moon 185 
 
 The heaven's vast world stood silent 5 
 
 The island lies nine leagues away 142 
 
 The lift is high and blue 92 
 
 The monarch Neptune kept no idle watch 2 
 
 The night is calm and cloudless 167 
 
 The night is clear 140 
 
 The night is made for cooling shade 116 
 
 The pathway of the sinking moon 169 
 
 Then with a whistling breeze 3 
 
 There be none of beauty's daughters 200 
 
 There is a pleasure in the pathless woods 105 
 
 There was a king in Thule 31 
 
 There was once a carven ark 6 
 
220 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The sea has left the strand 144 
 
 The sea is calm to-night 100 
 
 The sea ! the sea ! the open sea 138 
 
 The shivering column of the moonlight lies 94 
 
 The silence there was what most haunted me 93 
 
 The sky is thick upon the sea 143 
 
 The stream was smooth as glass 41 
 
 The sweet moon rules the east to-night 135 
 
 The tide has ebb'd away 157 
 
 The tide \\-ill ebb at day's decline 194 
 
 The wind ahead, the billows high 114 
 
 The wind is blowing east 1-43 
 
 The wind shakes up the sleepy clouds 164 
 
 They ran through the streets of the seaport town 77 
 
 They went to sea in a sieve, they did 78 
 
 Ttis is the ship of pearl which poets feign 88 
 
 Thou comest, much wept for ! such a breeze 126 
 
 Though all the fates should prove unkind 121 
 
 Thus having said, with his inverted spear 12 
 
 Toll for the brave 86 
 
 Too long, O spirit of Stonn 184 
 
 Under the cliff I w-alk in silence 173 
 
 Upon the white sea-sand no 
 
 We are building little homes on the sands 122 
 
 Weel may the boatie row, and better may it speed 183 
 
 We part as ships on a pathless main 158 
 
 We sail toward evening's lonely star 198 
 
 What flecks the outer gray beyond 63 
 
 When the tide comes in 196 
 
 When the uneasy waves of life subside 171 
 
 Where yonder dancing billows dip 170 
 
 While raging tempests shake the shore 203 
 
 Who had ever such adventure 24 
 
 Who had ever such adventure 26 
 
 Would God I were now by the sea 7 
 
 Ye mariners of England 85 
 
 \'e mariners of Spain 187 
 
 You see the gentle water 71