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There was slight chance of reaching any shore;
And then they were too many, though so few
'Twas a rough night, and blew so stiffly yet,
That the sail was becalmed between the seas, Though on the wave's high top too much to set,
They dared not take it in for all the breeze: Each sea curled o'er the stern, and kept them wet,
And made them bale without a moment's ease, So that themselves as well as hopes were damped, And the poor little cutter quickly swamped. . There were two fathers in this ghastly crew,
And with them their two sons, of whom the one Was more robust and hardy to the view,
But he died early; and when he was gone, His nearest messmatc told his sire, who threw
One glance at him, and said, “Heaven's will be done,
Of a soft cheek and aspect delicate;
And patient spirit held aloof his fate;
As if to win a part from off the weight He saw increasing on his father's heart, With the deep deadly thought that they must part. And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised
His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed,
And when the wished-for shower at length was come, And the boy's eyes which the dull film half-glazed
Brightened, and for a moment seemed to roam,
And looked upon it long, and when at last
Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past, He watched it wistfully, until away
'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast; Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering, And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering.
What hidest thou in thy treasure caves and cells,
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main ?Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-coloured shells
Bright things which gleam unrecked of, and in vain. Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea !
We ask not such from thee.
Yet more, the depths have more! What wealth untold,
Far down, and shining through their stillness lies! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal argosies. Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main!
Earth claims not these again.
Yet more, the depths have more! Thy waves have
rolled Above the cities of a world gone by ! Sand hath filled up the palaces of old,
Seaweed o'ergrown the halls of revelry. Dash o'er them, ocean! in thy scornful play :
Man yields them to decay.
Yet more! the billows and the depths have more !
High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar;
The battle thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave!
Give back the true and brave !
Give back the lost and lovely !-those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long; The prayer went up through midnight's breathless
gloom, And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song ! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown :
But all is not thine own.
To thee the love of woman hath gone
down; Dark flow thy tides o’cr 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!
'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won
On his imperial throne:
(So should desert in arms be crowned).
Happy, happy, happy pair !
Timotheus, placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touched the lyre :
And heavenly joys inspire.
When he to fair Olympia pressed,
With ravished ears
Affects to nod,
The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young :
He shows his honest face.
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure ; Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;
Fought all his battles o'er again ;
He chose a mournful muse,