To thee the love of woman hath gone down; Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown! Yet must thou hear a voice-Restore the dead! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee! Restore the dead, thou Sea! MRS. HEMANS. THE SEA SHORE. LOVED to walk where none had walked before About the rocks that ran along the shore; Or far beyond the sight of men to stray, And take my pleasure when I lost my way. For then 'twas nine to trace the hilly heath, And all the mossy moor that lies beneath. Here had I favourite stations where I stood, And heard the murmurs of the ocean-flood, With not a sound beside, except when flew Aloft the lapwing, or the gray curlew, Who with wild notes my fancied power defied, And mocked the dreams of solitary pride. I loved to stop at every creek and bay Made by the river in its winding way, And call to memory-not by marks they bear, But by the thoughts that were created there. Pleasant it was to view the sea-gulls strive Against the storm, or in the ocean dive, With eager scream; or when they dropping gave Their closing wings to sail upon the wave: Then as the winds and waters raged around, And breaking billows mixed their deafening sound, They on the rolling deep securely hung, And calmly rode the restless waves among. Nor pleased it less around me to behold Far up the beach the yeasty sea-foam rolled; Or from the shore upborne, to see on high While the salt spray, that clashing billows form, CRABBE. A REFLECTION AT SEA. EE how beneath the moonbeam's smile Yon little billow heaves its breast; And foams and sparkles for a while, And murmuring then subsides to rest! Thus man, the sport of bliss and care, MOORE. A REFLECTION AT SEA. OW richly glows the water's breast Before us, tinged with evening hues, While, facing thus the crimson west, The boat her silent course pursues! And see, how dark the backward stream! A little moment past, so smiling! And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam, Some other loiterers beguiling. Such views the youthful bard allure; But heedless of the following gloom, He deems their colours shall endure Till peace go with him to the tomb. WORDSWORTH. THE SEA SHELL. 39AST thou heard of a shell on the margin of ocean, Whose pearly recesses the echoes still keep, Of the music it caught when, with tremulous motion, It joined in the concert poured forth by the deep? And fables have told us when far inland carried, Oh! thus should our spirits, which bear many a token Though the dark clouds of sin may at times hover o'er us, BERNARD BARTON. ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN. THOU vast ocean! ever-sounding sea! Thou symbol of a drear immensity! Thou thing that windest round the solid world Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life The earth hath nought of this: nor chance nor change Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare Give answer to the tempest-waken air; But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach- BARRY CORNWALL THE BURIAL AT SEA. HE skies were dark with dusky night, On outstretched wings the vessel flew ; Hundreds were hushed below, on deck One sleeper slept more sound than they; For there of early hopes the wreck— A fair young child, whose spirit light From earth and all its troubles free. And we had met, o'er that loved child To make its bed in waters wild, And bid that babe our last "good-night." We give thy body to the deep, Sister, and friend of youthful years! Dark is thy bed of breathless sleep; O'er ocean's flood we shed our tears. Sadly below the sullen wave Thy loved dust sinks to its long home; Would that thine were a gentler grave, Where storms ne'er rock or billows foam! We would that thou wert laid in peace When saints shall rise and reign with God! I hear the sea-dirge loudly swell; The depths lift up their voice and weep; Old Ocean tolls his hollow knell Dull ear of death! how sound thy sleep. Sister, farewell! away, away, Bounds o'er the brine our fleet-winged steed; Though time may bring a happier day, Long with this wound shall memory bleed. ANON. |