WITH

THE MOUNTAINS.

frontier strength ye stand your ground, With grand content ye circle round,

Tumultuous silence for all sound,

Ye distant nursery of rills,

Monadnock, and the Peterboro' hills ;
Like some vast fleet

Sailing through rain and sleet,

Through winter's cold and summer's heat;
Still holding on, upon your high emprise,
Until ye find a shore amid the skies ;

Not skulking close to land,

With cargo contraband;

For they who sent a venture out by ye

Have set the sun to see

Their honesty.

Ships of the line, each one,

Ye to the westward run,

Always before the gale,

Under a press of sail,

With weight of metal all untold;

I seem to feel ye, in my firm seat herc

Immeasurable depth of hold,

And breadth of beam, and length of running gear.

Methinks ye take luxurious pleasure

In your novel western leisure ;
So cool your brows and freshly blue,
As Time had naught for ye to do;

THE MOUNTAINS.

31

For

ye lie at your length,

An unappropriated strength,

Unhewn primeval timber

For knees so stiff, for masts so limber;
The stock of which new earths are made,
One day to be our western trade,

Fit for the stanchions of a world

Which through the seas of space is hurled.

While we enjoy a lingering ray,
Ye still o'ertop the western day,
Reposing yonder on God's croft,
Like solid stacks of hay.

Edged with silver and with gold,

The clouds hang o'er in damask fold,
And with such depth of amber light
The west is dight,

Where still a few rays slant,

That even heaven seems extravagant.

On the earth's edge mountains and trees

Stand as they were on air graven,

Or as the vessels in a haven

Await the morning breeze.

I fancy even

Through your defiles windeth the way to heaven;

And yonder still, in spite of history's page,

Linge. the golden and the silver age ;

Upon the laboring gale

The news of future centuries is brought,
And of new dynasties of thought,

From your remotest vale.

But special I remember thee,

Wachusett, who like me

Standest alone without society.

Thy far blue eye,

A remnant of the sky,

Seen through the clearing or the gorge,

Or from the windows of the forge,

Doth leaven all it passes by.

Nothing is true,

But stands 'tween me and you,

Thou western pioneer,

Who know'st not shame nor fear,
By venturous spirit driven,

Under the eaves of heaven,

And can'st expand thee there,

And breathe enough of air;

Upholding heaven, holding down earth,

Thy pastime from thy birth,

Not steadied by the one, nor leaning on the other May I approve myself thy worthy brother!

H. D. Thoreau.

THALATTA.

HALATTA! Thalatta!

TH

I greet thee, thou Ocean eternal !

I give thee ten thousand times greeting,
With heart all exulting,

As, ages since, hailed thee

Those ten thousand Greek hearts,

Fate-conquering, home-yearning,

World-renowned Greek hearts.

THALATTA.

The billows were rolling,

Were rolling and roaring,

The sun poured downward incessant
The flickering rose-lights;

Affrighted, the flocks of the sea mews
Fluttered away, loud screaming;

33

The steeds were stamping, the shields were clanging, And far, like a shout of victory, echoed

Thalatta! Thalatta!

Thou Ocean eternal, I greet thee!

Like the tongue of my home is the dash of thy waters!

Like dreams of my childhood now sparkle before me
All the wide curving waves of thy rolling dominions.
I hear, as told newly, the old recollections

Of the trifles I loved in the days of my boyhood,
Of the bright gifts that glittered at Christmas ;—
Of the scarlet branches of coral,

Of the gold fish, the pearls, and gay sea-shells,
Of all that thou guardest in secret

Below in thy houses of crystal!

Oh! how have I languished,

A-weary in exile!

Like a poor faded flower shut up in an herbal
Lay my heart in my bosom ;

'Tis as if I had sat through the winter
A sick man shut up in my chamber,
And now I had suddenly left it,—
And dazzlingly glitters upon me

The emerald Spring, sun awakened!

On the trees are the white blossoms rustling,
And the young flowers look up unto me,

With moist loving eyes full of beauty.

All is fragrance and murmurs and soft airs and laughter,

And in the blue heavens the birds are a-singing

Thalatta! Thalatta!

From the German of Heine.

W

THE VOYAGE.

E left behind the painted buoy

That tosses at the harbor-mouth;
And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South;
How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore!
We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail for evermore.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow,
Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail :
The Lady's head upon the prow

Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale.
The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel,

And swept behind so quick the run,

:

We felt the good ship shake and reel,

We seem'd to sail into the sun!