WHERE IS THE SEA? SONG OF THE GREEK ISLANDER IN EXILE. [A Greek Islander, being taken to the Vale of Tempe, and called upon to admire its beauty, only replied -The sea-where is it?'] WHERE is the sea? I languish here Where is my own blue sea? I miss that voice of waves which first The measured chime—the thundering burst Where is my own blue sea? Oh! rich your myrtle's breath may rise, Soft, soft your winds may be; Yet my sick heart within me diesWhere is my own blue sea? I hear the shepherd's mountain flute I hear the whispering tree; MRS. HEMANS. SALUTATION. GOD be with thee, gladsome Ocean! Dissuading spake the mild physician, 'Those briny waves for thee are death!' But my soul fulfilled her mission, And lo! I breathe untroubled breath! Fashion's pining sons and daughters Who seek the crowd they seem to fly, Trembling they approach thy waters; And what cares Nature, if they die? Me a thousand hopes and pleasures, Dreams (the soul herself forsaking), Silent adorations, making A blessed shadow of this earth! O ye hopes, that stir within me, I cannot die, if Life be Love. COLERIDGE. WHITE-CAPT WAVES. WHITE-CAPT waves far round the Ocean, The rosy light through the morning's portals Tinges your crests with an August hue; Calling on us, thought-prisoned mortals, Thus to live in the moment too. For, graceful creatures, you live by dying, Show us your art, O genial daughters Of solemn Ocean, thus to combine Freedom and force of rolling waters With sharp observance of law divine. J. F. CLARKE. 14 SEA-VIEW FROM ST. LEONARD'S. HAIL to thy face and odors, glorious Sea! 'T were thanklessness in me to bless thee not, Great beauteous Being! in whose breath and smile My heart beats calmer, and my very mind Inhales salubrious thoughts. How welcomer Thy murmurs than the murmurs of the world! Though like the world thou fluctuatest, thy din To me is peace, thy restlessness repose. Ev'n gladly I exchange yon spring-green lanes With all the darling field-flowers in their prime, And gardens haunted by the nightingale's Long trills and gushing ecstacies of song, For these wild headlands and the sea-mew's clang. With thee beneath my windows, pleasant sea! So boundless or so beautiful as thine. The eagle's vision cannot take it in: The lightning's wing, too weak to sweep its space, Sinks half-way o'er it like a wearied bird: It is the mirror of the stars, where all Nor on the stage Of rural landscape are there lights and shades Mighty sea! Cameleon-like thou changest, but there's love |