THE OCEAN'S MOAN. πᾶσαν δ ̓ ἐπλησας φωνας ἄλα. Moscars. STREAMS that sweep where thousands languish Hence it is that ever Ocean Hath so sad, so wild a moan; Calm, or lashed in wild commotion, Therefore is its dirge-like tone. Moaning for the dead and dying Rivers tell it to the sea, Shall not Ocean, with its billows, Their eternal mourner be? ANONYMOUS. THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, The skipper he stood beside the helm And watched how the veering flaw did blow Then up and spoke an old sailor, I pray thee, put into yonder port, 'Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!' The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, Colder and louder blew the wind, Down came the storm, and smote amain, She shuddered and paused like a frighted steed, Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale, That ever wind did blow.' He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat He cut a rope from a broken spar, 'O father! I hear the church-bells ring O say, what may it be?" "Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!? And he steered for the open sea. O father! I hear the sound of guns, 'Some ship in distress, that cannot live 'O father! I see a gleaming light, But the father answered never a word, Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, With his face to the skies, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fixed and glassy eyes. Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That savéd she might be; And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave, On the Lake of Galilee. And fast through the midnight dark and drear, Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept And ever the fitful gusts between It was the sound of the trampling surf, The breakers were right beneath her bows, And a whooping billow swept the crew She struck where the white and fleecy waves But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, Like a vessel of glass, she strove and sank, At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, To see the form of a maiden fair, The salt sea was frozen on her breast, And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, On the reef of Norman's Woe! H. W. LONGFELLOW. |