THE SEA. BEAUTIFUL, sublime, and glorious; Sun and moon and stars shine o'er thee, In thy soundless depths below. Scoff his search and scorn his sway. Now dark with the fresh-blowing gale, O gardens of Eden! in vain Placed far on the fathomless main, Where Nature with Innocence dwelt in her youth, When pure was her heart and unbroken her truth But now the fair rivers of Paradise wind Thus the pestilent Upas, the demon of trees, The birds on the wing, and the flowers in their beds, That darkens the noonday with death, And pale ghosts of travellers wander around, While their mouldering skeletons whiten the ground. Ah! why hath Jehovah, in forming the world, With the waters divided the land, His ramparts of rocks round the continent hurled, If man may transgress his eternal command, And violate nations and realms that should be While soft o'er thy bosom the cloud-shadows sail, There are, gloomy Ocean, a brotherless clan, And the silver-winged sea-fowl on high, Or dive in the gulf, or triumphantly ride, From the tumult and smoke of the city set free, From the crest of the mountain I gaze upon thee, And moves on thy waters, wherever they roll, From the day-darting zone to the night-shadowed pole. My spirit descends where the day-spring is born, Where the billows are rubies on fire, Who traverse thy banishing waves, From the homes of their kindred, their fore. fathers' graves, Love, friendship, and conjugal bliss, Demands of the spoiler his share of the prey. Then joy to the tempest that whelms them beneath, Where the vultures and vampires of Mammon resort; Where Europe exultingly drains And the breezes that rock the light cradle of morn The life-blood from Africa's veins ; Are sweet as the Phoenix's pyre. O regions of beauty, of love and desire! Where man rules o'er man with a merciless rod, And spurns at his footstool the image of God! The hour is approaching, a terrible hour! In a moment entombed in the horrible void, The blood of our ancestors nourished the tree; The voice of our fathers ascends from their oak. "Ye Britons, who dwell where we conquered of old, Who inherit our battle-field graves; Shall this be the fate of the cane-planted isles, Though poor were your fathers, — gigantic and As homeward my weary-winged Fancy extends Ah me! what new prospects, new horrors arise? All foaming, and panting with blood; For Britannia is wielding the trident to-day, And hurling her thunder with absolute sway But firm as our rocks, and as free as our waves, ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN. O THOU vast Ocean! ever-sounding Sea! She triumphs; the winds and the waters con- The earth has naught of this: no chance or change spire To spread her invincible name; The universe rings with her fame; Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare But the cries of the fatherless mix with her At will, and wound its bosom as they go : praise, Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow : And the tears of the widow are shed on her bays. But in their stated rounds the seasons come, And pass like visions to their wonted home; O Britain, dear Britain! the land of my birth; And come again, and vanish; the young Spring O Isle most enchantingly fair! Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming; Thou Pearl of the Ocean! thou Gem of the Earth! And Winter always winds his sullen horn, Thy distant dominions like wild graftings shoot, When the wild Autumn, with a look forlorn, The root of thine oak, O my country! that I love to wander on thy pebbled beach, stands Rock-planted and flourishing free; Marking the sunlight at the evening hour, And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach, Its branches are stretched o'er the uttermost lands, Eternity - Eternity and Power. And its shadow eclipses the sea. BARRY CORNWALL. |