They were the first
That ever burst
Into that silent sea!
'MID shouts that hail'd her from the shore And bade her speed, the bark is gone, The dreary ocean to explore
Whose waters sweep the frigid zone;— And bounding on before the gale,
To bright eyes shining through their tears, 'Twixt sea and sky, her snowy sail
A lessening speck appears.
Behold her next 'mid icy isles,
Lone wending on her cheerless way;
"Neath skies where summer scarcely smiles,
Whose light seems but the shade of day.
But while the waves she wanders o'er,
Around her form they sink to sleep;
The pulse of nature throbs no more-
She's chain'd within the deep!
Then Hope for ever took her flight;
Each face, as monumental stone,
Grew ghastly in the fading light
In which their latest sun went down ;
And ere its disk to darkness pass'd,
And closed their unreturning day,
The seaman sought the dizzy mast,
To catch its latest rav.
All other secrets of their fate
From darkness would the Muse redeem; Unheard-of horrors to relate,
Which fancy scarce may dare to dream.
Thus much we only know-they died;
All else oblivion veils,
And charnels of the waters wide,
That tell no babbling tales.
For them were wishes, longings, fears,
The sleepless night and ceaseless prayer,
Hope gleaming, rainbow-like, through tears,
And doubt that darken'd to despair!
Suns, seasons, as they roll away,
No light upon the lost can shed,
Their tale a secret till the day
When seas give up their dead.
WHERE are now the dreaming flowers,
Which of old were wont to lie,
Looking upwards at the hours,
In the pale blue sky?
Where's the once red regal rose?
And the lily, love-enchanted!
And the pensée which arose
Like a thought, earth-planted?
Some are wither'd-some are dead-
Others now have no perfume;
This doth hang its sullen head,
That hath lost its bloom.
Passions, such as nourish strife
In our blood, and quick decay,
Hang upon the flower's life
Till it fades away.
ON SEEING THE ENDYMION OF ALBANO.
The very music of his name has gone into my being. KEATS.
I NEVER Would have drawn Endymion thus-
He should have knelt on earth, a shepherd boy,
With vivid eye, and dark descending hair,
Thrown into light and beauty, by the beam
Of her he worshiped—
His eye should have been fix'd, but not in sleep;
Nor should the lid throw e'en a partial shadow:
Like a young, wild, untaught idolator,
There let him kneel; with curved and parted lip
As if he spoke to her who answer'd not-
With that unquiet brightness which betrays
A heart with its aspirings overwrought-
Hope in despair; and joyfulness and sorrow;
And death, with the disturbances of life:
All riving, glowing every lineament.
With hands uplifted, press'd above his brow,
And clust'ring ringlets resting in their palms;
Whilst his light raiment, silver'd by the Moon,
Floats with the unfelt wind-and let his flock
Roam idle down the' unguarded precipice,
And never more be folded.-
Oh! who would close Endymion's eyes in sleep,
Or send down Cherubs to the Shepherd boy?
Or leave a healthful bloom upon that cheek
With vigils worn? or let the Queen of night
Withdraw her ray of loveliness from him?
Thou-thou Albano! thou canst pencil well,
But false are thine imaginings-and thou
Canst shadow beauty-and be painter all :
But poet never.—
BY PROFESSOR WILSON.
How beautiful upon the wave
The vessel sails, that comes to save!
Fitting it was that first she shone
Before the wondering eyes of one,
So beautiful as thou.
See how before the wind she goes,
Scattering the waves like melting snows!
Her course with glory fills
The sea for many a league!-Descending,
She stoopeth now into the vale,
Now, as more freshly blows the gale,
She mounts in triumph o'er the watery hills. Oh! whither is she tending?
She holds in sight yon shelter'd bay;
how bless'd are they!
See! how she veers around!
Back whirl the waves with louder sound;
And now her prow points to the land:
For the Ship, at her glad lord's command,
Doth well her helm obey.
They cast their eyes around the isle :
But what a change is there!
For ever fled that lonely smile
That lay on earth and air,
That made its haunts so still and holy,
Almost for bliss too melancholy,
For life too wildly fair.
Gone-gone is all its loneliness,
And with it much of loveliness.
Into each deep glen's dark recess,
The day-shine pours like rain,
So strong and sudden is the light
Reflected from that wonder bright,
Now tilting o'er the main.
Soon as the thundering cannon spoke,
The voice of the evening gun
The spell of the enchantment broke,
Like dew beneath the sun.
Soon shall they hear the' unwonted cheers
Of these delighted mariners,
And the loud sounds of the oar,
As bending back away they pull,
With measured pause, most beautiful,
Approaching to the shore.
For her yards are bare of man and sail,
Nor moves the giant to the gale;
But, on the ocean's breast,
With storm-proof cables, stretching far,
There lies the stately Ship of War;
And glad is she of rest.
TEMPLE OF JUPITER OLYMPIUS AT ATHENS.
THOυ art not silent!-oracles are thine
Which the wind utters, and the spirit hears,-
Lingering, 'mid ruin'd fane and broken shrine,
O'er many a tale and trace of other years!
Bright as an ark, o'er all the flood of tears
That warps thy cradle land-thine earthly love-
Where hours of hope, 'mid centuries of fears,
Have gleam'd, lightnings through the gloom
above,-
Stands, roofless to the sky, thy house, Olympian Jove!
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