I wis,

Shall be of another form than this!"
It was of another form, indeed;
Built for freight, and yet for speed,
A beautiful and gallant craft;
Broad in the beam, that the stress of
the blast,

Pressing down upon sail and mast,
Might not the sharp bows overwhelm ;
Broad in the beam but sloping aft
With graceful curve and slow degrees,
That she might be docile to the helm,
And that the currents of parted seas,
Closing behind, with mighty force,
Might aid and not impede her course.
In the ship-yard stood the Master,

With the model of the vessel,
That should laugh at all disaster,
And with wave and whirlwind
wrestle!

Covering many a rood of ground,
Lay the timber piled around;
Timber of chestnut, and elm, and oak,
And scattered here and there, with
these,

The knarred and crooked cedar knees;
Brought from regions far away,
From Pascagoula's sunny bay,
And the banks of the roaring Roanoke!
Ah! what a wondrous thing it is
To note how many wheels of toil
One thought, one word, can set in

motion !

There's not a ship that sails the ocean,
But every climate, every soil,
Must bring its tribute, great or small,
And help to build the wooden wall!
The sun was rising o'er the sea,
And long the level shadows lay,
As if they, too, the beams would be
Of some great, airy argosy,
Framed and launched in a single day.
That silent architect, the sun,
Had hewn and laid them every one,
Ere the work of man was yet begun.
Beside the Master, when he spoke,
A youth against an anchor leaning,
Listened, to catch his slightest
meaning.

Only the long waves, as they broke
In ripples on the pebbly beach,
Interrupted the old man's speech.
Beautiful they were, in sooth,
The old man and the fiery youth!
The old man, in whose busy brain

Was modelled o'er and o'er again ;-
The fiery youth, who was to be
The heir of his dexterity,

The heir of his house, and his
daughter's hand,
[land
When he had built and launched from
What the elder head had planned.

"Thus," said he, "we will build this ship!

Lay square the blocks upon the slip,
And follow well this plan of mine.
Choose the timbers with greatest care;
Of all that is unsound beware;
For only what is sound and strong
To this vessel shall belong.
Cedar of Maine and Georgia pine
Here together shall combine.
And the UNION be her name!,
A goodly frame, and a goodly fame,
For the day that gives her to the sea
Shall give my daughter unto thee!"
The Master's word

Enraptured the young man heard;
And as he turned his face aside,
Standing before
With a look of joy and a thrill of pride,

Her father's door,

He saw the form of his promised bride,
The sun shone on her golden hair,
And her cheek was glowing fresh and
fair,
With the breath of morn and the soft
[sea-air.
Like a beauteous barge was she,
Still at rest on the sandy beach,
But he
Just beyond the billow's reach;

Was the restless, seething, stormy sea!

Ah, how skilful grows the hand
That obeyeth Love's command!
It is the heart and not the brain
And he who followeth Love's behest
That to the highest doth attain,
Far exceedeth all the rest!

Thus with the rising of the sun'
Was the noble task begun,
And soon throughout the ship-yard's
bounds

Were heard the intermingled sounds
Of axes and of mallets, plied
With vigorous arms on every side;
Plied so deftly and so well,
That, ere the shadows of evening fell,
The keel of oak for a noble ship,
Scarfed and bolted, straight and strong,
Was lying ready, and stretched along

The blocks, well placed upon the slip.
Happy, thrice happy every one
Who sees his labour well begun,
And not perplexed and multiplied,
By idly waiting for time and tide!

And when the hot, long day was o'er,
The young man at the Master's door
Sat with the maiden, calm and still.
And within the porch, a little more
Removed beyond the evening chill,
The father sat, and told them tales
Of wrecks in the great September gales,
Of pirates upon the Spanish Main,
And ships that never came back again,
The chance and change of a sailor's
life,

Want and plenty, rest and strife,
His roving fancy, like the wind,
That nothing can stay and nothing
'can bind,

And the magic charm of foreign lands, With shadows of palms and shining sands,

Where the tumbling surf,

O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar, Washes the feet of the swarthy Lascar, As he lies alone and asleep on the turf. And the trembling maiden held her

breath

At the tales of that awful, pitiless sea,
With all its terror and mystery,
The dim, dark sea, so like unto death,
That divides and yet unites mankind!
And whenever the old man paused, a
gleam

From the bowl of his pipe would a while illume

The silent group in the twilight gloom, And thoughtful faces, as in a dream; And for a moment one might mark What had been hidden by the dark, That the head of the maiden lay at rest, Tenderly, on the young man's breast!

Day by day the vessel grew, With timbers fashioned strong and true, [knee, Stemson and keelson and sternsonTill, framed with perfect symmetry, A skeleton ship rose up to view ! And around the bows and along the side

The heavy hammers and mallets plied, Till after many a week, at length, Wonderful for form and strength, Sublime in its enormous bulk, Loomed aloft the shadowy hulk!

"

men :

'Build me straight, O worthy Master, Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster,

And with wave and whirlwind
wrestle!"

With oaken brace and copper band,
Lay the rudder on the sand,
That, like a thought, should have
control

Over the movement of the whole;
And near it the anchor, whose giant
hand
[the land,
Would reach down and grapple with
And immovable and fast

Hold the great ship against the bellowing blast!

And at the bows an image stood,
By a cunning artist carved in wood,
With robes of white, that far behind
Seemed to be fluttering in the wind.
It was not shaped in a classic mould,
Not like a Nymph or Goddess of old,
Or Naiad rising from the water,
But modelled from the Master's
daughter!

On many a dreary and misty night,
"Twill be seen by the rays of the
signal light,

Speeding along through the rain and the dark,

Like a ghost in its snow-white sark,
The pilot of some phantom bark,
Guiding the vessel, in its flight,
By a path none other knows aright!
Behold, at last,

Each tall and tapering mast
Is swung into its place; *

* Vessels are sometimes, though not usually, of the exception, as be ter suited to my purlaunched fully rigged. I have availed myself poses than the general rule; but the reader will see by the following extract of a letter from a friend in Portland, Maine, that it is neither a blunder nor a poetic licence :

"In this State, and also, I am told, in New York, ships are sometimes rigged upon the stocks, in order to save time, or to make a show. There was a fine large ship launched

And everywhere

The slender, graceful spars
Poise aloft in the air,
And at the mast-head,
White, blue, and red,

A flag unrolls the stripes and stars.
Ah! when the wanderer, lonely, friend-
less,

In foreign harbours shall behold
That flag unrolled,

"Twill be as a friendly hand
Stretched out from his native land,
Filling his heart with memories sweet
and endless!

All is finished! and at length
Has come the bridal day
Of beauty and of strength.
To-day the vessel shall be launched!
With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched,
And o'er the bay,

Slowly, in his splendours dight, [sight.
The great sun rises to behold the

His beard of snow

Heaves with the heaving of his breast.
He waits impatient for his bride.
There she stands,

With her foot upon the sands,
Decked with flags and streamers gay,
In honour of her marriage-day,
Her snow-white signals fluttering,
blending,

Round her like a veil descending,
Ready to be

The bride of the gray old sea.
On the deck another bride
Is standing by her lover's side.
Shadows from the flags and shrouds,
Like the shadows cast by clouds,
Broken by many a sunny fleck,
Fall around them on the deck.

The prayer is said,
The service read,

[head; The joyous bridegroom bows his And in tears the good old Master Shakes the brown hand of his son, Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek In silence, for he cannot speak, And ever faster

Down his own the tears begin to run.
The worthy pastor-

The shepherd of that wandering flock,
'That has the ocean for its wold,
That has the vessel for its fold,
Leaping ever from rock to rock,
Spake, with accents mild and clear,
Words of warning, words of cheer,
But tedious to the bridegroom's ear.
He knew the chart

Of the sailor's heart,

All its pleasures and its griefs,
All its shallows and rocky reefs,
All those secret currents that flow
With such resistless undertow,
And lift and drift, with terrible force,
The will from its moorings and its

course.

Therefore he spake, and thus said he :-
Like unto ships far off at sea,
Outward or homeward bound, are we.
Before, behind, and all around,
Floats and swings the horizon's
bound,

Seems at its distant rim to rise [skies,
And climb the crystal wall of the
And then again to turn and sink,
As if we could slide from its outer
brink.

Ah! it is not the sea,

It is not the sea that sinks and shelves,

Then the Master,

With a gesture of command,
Waved his hand;
And at the word,

Loud and sudden there was heard,
All around them and below,
The sound of hammers, blow on blow,
Knocking away the shores and spurs.
And see! she stirs !

She starts, she moves-she seems to feel

The thrill of life along her keel,
And spurning with her foot the
ground,

With one exulting, joyous bound,
She leaps into the ocean's arms!

And lo! from the assembled crowd There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,

That to the ocean seemed to say,"Take her, O bridegroom, old and

For gentleness and love and trust
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust;
And in the wreck of noble lives
Something immortal still survives!

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State !
Sail on, O UNION, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of
steel,
[rope,
Who made each mast, and sail, and
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy
hope!
[shock,
Fear not each sudden sound and
'Tis of the wave and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!-
Our hearts, our hopes are all with
thee;

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee,-are all with thee!

THE EVENING STAR. JUST above yon sandy bar, As the day grows fainter and dim

*

THE SECRET OF THE SEA. AH! 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 ;-Telling how the Count Arnaldos, 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 sailing 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!"

"Wouldst 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 thrilling pulse through me.

TWILIGHT.

THE twilight is sad and cloudy,

The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea-birds Flash the white caps of the sea. But in the fisherman's cottage There shines a ruddier light,

And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,

As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
To see some form arise.

And a woman's waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,

Now bowing and bending low.
What tale do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind, bleak and wild, As they beat at the crazy casement, Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,

And the night-wind, wild and bleak, As they beat at the heart of the mother,

Drive the colour from her cheek?

SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT.* SOUTHWARD with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and fast blew the blast,

And the east wind was his breath. His lordly ships of ice

Glistened in the sun;

On each side, like pennons wide,
Flashing crystal streamlets run.

His sails of white sea-mist

Dripped with silver rain; But where he passed there were cast Leaden shadows o'er the main. Eastward from Campobello Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed; Three days or more seaward he bore, Then, alas! the land-wind failed. Alas! the land-wind failed, And ice-cold grew the night;

"When the wind abated and the vessels were near enough, the Admiral was seen constantly sitting in the stern, with a book in his hand. On the 9th of Sept mber he was seen for the last time, and was heard by the people of the Hind to say, 'We are as near heaven by sea as by land.' In the following night the lights of the ship suddenly disappeared. The people in the other vessel kept a good look-out for him during the remainder of the voyage. On the 22nd of September they arrived through much tempest at Falmouth. But nothing more was seen or heard of the Admiral."-BELKNAP'S American Biography, i, 203.