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9. Athwart the brine, in snowy line, on, on my Lily flies, Oh! not more stately bounds the deer where Athole's forests riseThe harbour's mouth we've gain’d, my lads! down canvass ! bear a hand; Quick ! slack the sheets !-she touches now !-I spring on Portsmouth strand!
TRIP THE SECOND.
Wherein the Lily proceedeth in quest of what seemed from the Shore to be a
1. All day a silence stern and deep
Hath lain on land and sea ; Ye may not hear a rustle creep
Through leafiest bush or tree; The anchor'd vessels seem asleep,
So motionless they be.
Is calm as inland lake;
Without a heave or break;
Its sleeping might to wake.
2. There's not a cloud in all the sky,
The sun shines bright and clear;
And yet no sound ye hear;
5. Round Rocken End, from Chale's far
shore, The horrid sound is borne ; Well know the seamen from the roar,
'Twill be a gale ere morn: Hoist
every sail ! ply every oar! Such warning none may scorn.
6. Night comes—and with mysterious The tempest downward rush'd at last, sound,
Like eagle on its prey ; While not a wave is stirr'd,
And struck the sea with pinions vast, There rises in the calm profound, And shouted as in play, As by enchanter's word,
As the big waves
rose wild and A voice, as if the storm unbound
fast, In howling rage were heard.
And terror mark'd his way.
14. The moon rose up at midnight hour, There's something moves
- a mile And shed a feeble light;
from land The darksome waters scorn'd her It welters o'er the flood; power
'Tis a wreck'd man! he waves his In their tumultuous fight
hand! Save where, like beacon from a tower,
He floats on log of wood ! She shed a streak of light
Quick! launch the Lily down the
Heed not the breakers rude.
15. Oh God! there's something takes its The Lily through the breakers flies,
By four stout oarsmen plied ; With wild unsteady leap,
And, watch'd by many glistening eyes, Across that line, where breakers play She gambols o'er the tide: And mountain billows sweep. But the floating man doth hardly rise, 9.
So high the billows glide. A moment seen ; but the shadows
'Tis not a man- --'tis tall and hardThat brood on either side,
And now we near it fast; Suddenly swallow'd up the bark,
'Tis but the end of a broken yard, And she no more is spied
Or the fragment of a mast; No ear, no eye her course to mark
And so, with ropes our prize to guard, On the stormy waters wide !
To leeward we have pass'd. 10.
17. God help you, gallant mariners ! Your bark can hardly rise,
Our lines we fix'd; we tugg'd and
tow'd, Dash'd by each billow as it rears
But toil was all our meed; Its crest of giant size:
The tide, that still impetuous flow'd, Your masts are gone—no helmsman
Scarce help'd us in our needsteers
It seem'd as if a weary load All like a log she lies.
Repress'd us in our speed. 11.
18. That night my straw-roof'd cottage A weary load, as if of lead, shook
Or some unholy thing, Beneath the tempest's blows ;
Some sunken vessel, where the dead The stately elms that guard my nook
Lay heap'd in ghastly ring :
For at every tug the tall mast sway'd,
But ever firm did cling. not brook The barrier of Dunnose.
It dipt, it bent, but upward still 12.
Sprang back with horrid bound, Up the tall cliff it strove to climb, And backward fell in rage,
Spite of our utmost strength and skill
We could not force it round, Like tiger gaunt in wrath sublime
And at last beneath the Culver hill That beats against its cage,
Our prize did take the ground. And leaps and howls, till conquering
Eight fathoms deep the water lay,
And yet our prize stuck fast 13. So ceased the sea. When morning
The tide had slack'd within the bay,
And westward now it pass'd, shone
And at each new foot it ebb'd away, The sky was calm and clear ; But the wild waves kept tumbling on
Still higher tower'd the mast. In their quick and fierce career;
21. For though the tempest's voice was
The waves sank down, and soon apgone,
pear'd His might seem'd waiting near. A topsail fully set;
And down, far down, as the water That mast with all its panoply clear’d,
Had with the billows leapt. Our eyes a vision met
23. As of a mainsail, which uprear'd Its swelling canvass yet!
It was a piteous sight, I ween;
For well we guess'd the fate 22.
Of the brave ship, where it once had The ropes hung loose, the shrouds been hung free,
So stately and elate ; But the yards their place had kept, And with sad hearts from that dismal And thus beneath that stormy sea, As if above it swept,
The Lily bore us straight.
TRIP THE THIRD.
Wherein the Lily coasteth five miles to the Westward, and cometh home again. 1.
Where dewless night A light south wind is blowing
Was clear and bright, This gentle summer day;
And great stars look'd down from And the tide is hardly flowing
Is not to England given.
6. On mount and down and lea ;
Yet here, in these recesses, Come hither, little Mary,
Where the east wind never blows; And sail an hour with me!
And the high north Down represses 2.
December and his snows; How slowly now we're sliding
In Ventnor gladeBeneath the chalky height,
In Bonchurch shade And the Lily, ghostlike gliding,
How soft the Autumn air! Seems fill'd with calm delight.
And there's many a Summer blossom
In Winter's tangled hair.
7. On all the rocky strand
We've glided past St Lawrence,
And to Puckaster we steer;
We match your beauties here!
Our course we stay
To scan the bay,
That spreads a fitting umbrage
For some sainted hermit's sleep.
8. In this sweet summer prime
Now mark, my silent Mary, 'Tis a lovely scene, my Mary,
As the helm's aside inclined, As 'twere a fairy clime.
The boat its motion vary
As she falls off from the wind ; 4.
The light breeze błowsThere's many a southern islet
The Lily goes Round which 'twere bliss to sail,
With a step as soft and slow, And our idle course to pilot,
As the mystic shapes in cloudland, From noon till twilight pale ;
That flit dimly to and fro.
Again we're eastward veering,
Where calm St Lawrence lies,
Like some quiet nest appearing
Where the bird for safety flies ; 5.
See Ventnor spire, What joy 'twould be, my daughter, 'Tis tipt with fire Beneath that dazzling moon,
In the sun's unclouded ray; To thread each winding water, And again Highport we've rounded, And trace each deep lagoon ?
And cast anchor in the bay.
TRIP THE FOURTH.
Wherein the Lily visiteth a stranded Ship.
1. The cheeriest spot in all the earth,
The happiest nook of all to me,
When storms are on the sea.
Its own wild triumph song of pow'r ;
Mid-day nor midnight hour:
3. It seems as if it fill'd
That glorious voice of home-
Where the dull waters lifeless lie,
Utter no sound nor cry-
I've seen its countenance grow dim,
As might some tyrant's grim-
When its quick car hath caught the roar Of battling hurricanes far off
On' mid-Atlantic's floor, It feels the stormy tremor of their wrath, And rears its crested waves ere yet they've cross'd its path.
7. Sleep on, the sated serpent falls,
And sleep falls on the wearied main ; And though the wind its challenge calls,
It answers not again : 'Neath the high shadowing ledge it loves to lie, And on the rock-strewn shore waves sing its lullaby.
8. One night, on its uneasy bed,
Our ocean grimly slept and heaved ;
A mist, so thickly weaved
9. I sat within my chimney nook,
With a bright fire-of books a store ; A man rush'd in, with startled look
“A great ship's come ashore ! Close to the cliff she lies—we heard the sound, As ʼmid the rocks she came, and now she's fast aground !”
10. « Rouse Bonchurch up!—no moment waste
Bring lights,” I cried, " and man the boat!"
The Lily rock'd afloat !
11. Impetuous o'er the shingly beach
I struggled onward to Dunnose,
But not an object rose-
Voices we heard, but nought we saw,
So thick the mist around her fell ;
For soon we mark'd full well
13. If but a ripple lightly rise
If but the gentlest south wind blow;
Down the brave ship must go!
To give some dreaded thing to view,
Clearer and clearer grew
Draped in its solemn mist and cloud ;
White sail and dripping shroud !
To aid that vessel in her need
In zeal and perilous deed—
17. Next morning, when the early sun
Did first Dunnose's summit tip,