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And now it reigns above, around,

The whole Ship's crew are there! As if it call’d the Ship along.

Wailings around and overhead,
The Moon is sunk; and a clouded gray Brave spirits stupified or dead,
Declares that her course is run,

And madness and despair.
And like a God who brings the day,
Up mounts the glorious Sun.
Soon as his light has warm’d the seas,
From the parting cloud fresh blows the while yet 'tis thine to save,

Leave not the wreck, thou cruel Boat,

And that is the spirit whose well-known song Uninjured o'er the wave,

And angel-hande will bid thee float
Makes the vessel to sail in joy along.
No fears hath she ;-Her giant-form

Though whirlpools yawn across thy way, O'er wrathful surge, through blackening Around thee fiercely rave!

And storms, impatient for their prey, storm,

Vain all the prayers of pleading eyes, Majestically calm would go

Of outcry loud, and humble sigha, Mid the deep darkness white as snow!

Hands clasp'd, or wildly toss'd on high But gently now the small waves glide

To bless or curse in agony ! Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side.

Despair and resignation vain! The Main she will traverse for ever and age. That heeds not human miseries, So stately her bearing, so proud her array, Away lit

a strong-wing'd bird she Nies, Many ports will 'exult at the gleam of her And far off in the sunshine dies

mast! -Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour Hush! hash! Ye wretches left behind !

Like a wave of the restless main.
is her last

Silence becomes the brave, resign'd
Five hundred souls in one instant of dread
Are hurried o'er the deck;

To unexpected doom.
And fast the miserable Ship

How quiet the once noisy crowd!

The sails now serve them for a shroud, Becomes a lifeless wreck.

And the sea-cave is their tomb. Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock,

And where is that loveliest Being gone? Her planks are torn asunder, And down come her masts with a reeling Immortal though

such beanty seem’d

to be. Hope not that she is saved alone,

shock, And a hideous crash like thunder.

She, and the Youth that loved her too,

Went down with the ship and her gallant Her sails are draggled in the brine

crewThat gladden'd late the skies,

No favourites hath the sea.
And her pendant that kiss'd the fair moon-

Down many a fathom lies.
Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues Now is the Ocean's bosom bare,
Gleam'd softly from below,

Unbroken as the floating air ;
And Aung a warm and sunny flush The Ship hath melted quite away,
O'er the wreaths of murmuring snow, Like a struggling dream at break of day.
To the coral rocks are hurrying down No image meets my wandering eye
To sleep amid colours as bright as their own. But the new-risen sun, and the sunny sky.

Though the night-shades are gone, yet i Oh! many a dream was in the Ship Bedims the waves so beautiful; An hour before her death;

While a low and melancholy moan And sights of home with sighs disturbid Mourns for the glory that hath flown. The sleepers' long-drawn breath.

Oh! that the wild and wailing strain Instead of the murmur of the sea

Were a dream that murmurs in my brain! The sailor heard the humming tree What happiness would then be mine, Alive through all its leaves,

When my eyes,as they felt the morning shine, The hum of the spreading sycamore Instead of the unfathom'd Ocean-grave That grows before his cottage-door, Should behold Winander's peaceful wave And the swallow's song in the caves. And the Isles that love her loving breast, His arms inclosed a blooming boy,

Each brooding like a Halcyon's nest.
Who listend with tears of sorrow and joy It may not be :-too well I know
To the dangers his father had pass'd; The real doom from fancied woe,
And his wife-by turns she wept and smiled, The black and dismal hue.
As she lookd on the father of her child Yea, many a visage wan and pale
Return'd to her heart at last.

Will hang at midnight o'er my tale,
- He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll, And weep that it is true.
And the rush of waters is in his soul.
Astounded the reeling deck he paces,
Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces ;-

vapour dall


No sea-bird, through the darkness sailing,

E'er utter'd such a doleful wailing, O WBAVENLY Queen! by Mariners beloved! Foreboding the near blast: Refulgent Moon! when in the cruel sca

If from a living thing it came, Down sank yon fair Ship to her coral grave,

It sure must have a spectral frame, Where didst thou linger then? Sure it And soon its soul must part:


That groan broke from a bursting heart,

The bitterest and the last.
A Spirit strong and pityful like thee
At that dread hour thy worshippers to save;
Nor let the Glory where thy tenderest light,
Forsaking even the clouds, with pleasnre lay, None but its wretched self survive,

The Figure moves! It is alive!
Pass, like a cloud which none deplores, away, Yea! drown'd are all the crew!
No more to bless the empire of the Night. Ghosts are they underneath the wave,
How oft to thee have home-sick sailors pour'd
Upon their midnight-watch, no longer dull And he, whom Ocean deign’d to save,
Wben thou didst smile, hymns wild and Stands there most ghost-like too.


Alone upon a rock he stands Worthy the radiant Angel they adored !

Amid the waves, and wrings his hands, And are such hymnings breathed to thee in And lifts to Heaven his steadfast eye,

With a wild upbraiding agony,

vain? Gleamst thon, as if delighted with the strain, To God: but God hears not his prayer;

He senda his soul through the lonesome air And won by it the pions bark to keep

For, soon as his words from the wretch In joy for ever ?-till at once behind A cloud thou sailest, -and a roaring wind

depart, Hatb sunk her in the deep!

Cold they return on his baffled heart. Or, though the zephyr scarcely blow,

He flings himself down on his rocky tomb, Down to the bottom must she go

And madly laughs at his horrible doom. With all who wake or sleep,

With smiles the main is overspread, Ere the slamberer from his dream can start,

As if in mockery of the dead; Or the hymn hath left the singer's heart!

And upward when he turns his sight, Oh! sure, if ever mortal prayer

The unfeeling Sun is shining bright, Were heard where thou and thy bright stars And, strikes him with a sickening light.


While a fainting-fit his soul bedims,

He thinks that a Ship before him swims, So many gallant spirits had not died Thus mournfully in beauty and in prime!

A gallant Ship, all filld with gales, But from the sky had shone an arm sublime, His senses return, and he looks in vain

One radiant gleam of snowy

sails— To bless the worship of that Virgin fair, And, only seen by Faith's uplifted eye,

O'er the empty silence of the Main ! The wretched vessel gently drifted by

No Ship is there, with radiant gleam, The fatal rock, and to the crowded shore, Whose shadow sail'd throughout his dream : In triumph and in pride the expected glory To tell that a vessel hath ever been

Not even one rueful plank is seen

Beneath these lonely skies :
But sea-birds he oft had seen before

Following the ship in bush or roar,
Oh rain belief! most beauteous as thou art, The loss of their resting-mast deplore
Thy heavenly visage hides a cruel heart. With wild and dreary cries.
When Death and Danger, Terror and Dismay,
Are madly struggling on the dismal Ocean,
With heedless smile and calm unalter'd What brought him here he cannot tell;


Doubt and confusion darken all his soul, Onward thou glidest through the milky way, While glimmering truth more dreadful makes Nor, in thy own immortal beauty blest,

the gloom: Hearst dying mortals rave themselves to Why hath the Ocean that black hideous rest.

swell ? Yet when this night thon mountst thy starry And in his ears why doth that dismal toll


For ever sound,—as if a city-bell Brightening to sun-like glory in thy bliss, Wail'd for a funeral passing to the tomb? Wilt thou not then thy once - loved Vessel Some one hath died, and buried is this day;


A hoary-headed man, or stripling gay, And wish her happy, now that she is gone? Or haply some sweet maid, who was a bride, -Was that wild sound a human cry, And, ere her head upon his bosom lay The voice of one more loath to die Who deem'd her all his own, the Virgin Than they who ronnd him sleep?

died! Or of a Spirit in the sky,

Why starts the wilder'd dreamer at the sound, A Demon in the deep?

And casts his haggard eyes around?


The utter agony hath seized him now, A stream comes dancing from a mount,
For Memory drives him, like a slave, to know Down its fresh and lustrous side,
What Madness would conceal:- - His own Then, tamed into a quiet pool,

dear Maid,

Is scarcely seen to glide.
She, who he thought could never die, is Like fairy sprites, a thousand birds


Glance by on golden wing,
Drown'd!— still the breaking billows mut- Birds lovelier than the lovely hues


of the bloom wherein they sing.
With anguish loud was her death-bed! Upward he lifts his wondering eyes,
Nor e'er,-wild wish of utmost woe! Nor yet believes that even the skies
Shall her fair corse be found.

So passing fair can be:
Oft had he sworn with faithless breath, And lo! yon gleam of emerald light,
That his love for the Maid was strong as For human gaze too dazzling bright,

Is that indeed the Sea ?
By the holy Sun he sware ;
The Sun upon the Ocean smiles,
And, with a sudden gleam, reviles

Adorn'd with all her pomp and pride,
His vows as light as air.

Long fluttering flags, and pendants wide, Yet soon he flings, with a sudden start, He sees a stately vessel ride That gnawing frenzy from his heart, At anchor in a bay, For long in sooth he strove,

Where never waves by storm were driven, When the waters were booming in his brain, Shaped like the Moon when she is young And his life was clogg'd with a sickening pain,

in heaven, To save his lady-love.

Or melting in a cloud that stops her way.
Her masts tower nobly from the rocking deep,

Tall as the palmtrees on the steep,
How long it seems since that dear night, And, burning mid their crests so darkly green,
When gazing on the wan moonlight Her meteor-glories all abroad are seen,
He and his own betrothed stood,

Wakening the forests from their solemn sleep; Nor fear'd the harmless ocean-flood ! While suddenly the cannon's sound He feels as if many and many a day, Rolls through the cavern'd glens and groves Since that bright hour, had pass'd away;

profound, The dim remembrance of some joy

And never-dying echoes roar around. In which he revell’d when a boy.

Shaded with branching palm, the sign of The crew's dumb misery and his own,

peace, When lingeringly the ship went down, Canoes and skiffs like lightning shoot along, Even like some mournful tale appears, Countless as waves there sporting on the seas; By wandering sailor told in other years. While still from those that lead the van a Yet still he knows that this is all delusion,

song, For how could he for months and years have Whose chorus rends the inland-cliffs afar,


Tells that advance before that unarm'd A wretched thing upon the cruel Main,

throng Calm though it seem to be? Would gracious Princes and chieftains, with a fearless smile,


And outstretch'd arms, to welcome to their Set free his spirit from this dread confusion,

Oh, how devoutly would his thanks be given That gallant Ship of War.
To Jesus ere he died ! But tortured so, And glad are they who therein sail,
He dare not pray beneath his weight of woe, Once more to breathe the balmy gale,
Lent he should feel, when about to die, To kiss the steadfast strand :
By God deserted utterly,

They round the world are voyaging,
He cannot die: Though he longs for death, And who can tell their suffering
Stronger and stronger grows his breath, Since last they saw the land ?
And hopeless woe the spring of being feeds;
He faints not, though his knell secms rung,
But lives, as if to life he clung,

But that bright pageant will not stay: And stronger as he bleeds.

Palms, plumes, and ensigns melt away, But the weariness of wasting grief Island, and ship! - Though utter be the Hath brought at last its own relief:

change Each sense is dull'd! He lies at last (For on a rock he seems to lie As if the parting shock were past.

Àll naked to the burning sky) He sleeps -Prolong his haunted rest, He doth not think it strange. O God!—for now the wretch is blest. While in his memory faint recallings swim, A fair romantic Island, crown'd

He fain would think it is a dream With a glow of blossom'd trees,

That thus distracts his view, And underneath bestrewn with flowers, Until some unimagined pain The happy dreamer sees.

Shoots shivering through his troubled brain; -Though dreadful, all is true.

Of speaking thus of Heaven. But what to him is anguish now,

Weeping, she wrings his dripping hair Though it burn in his blood, and his heart, That hangs across his cheek;

and his brow, And leaves a hundred kisses there, For ever from morn to night?

But not one word can speak. For lo! an angel-shape descends,

In bliss she listens to his breath: As soft and silent as moonlight,

Ne'er murmur'd so the breast of death ! And o'er the dreamer bende.

Alas! sweet one! what joy can give She cannot be an earthly child,

Fond-cherish'd thoughts like these! Yet, when the Vision sweetly smiled, For how mayest thou and thy lover live The light that there did play

In the centre of the seas ? Reminded him, he knew not why,

Or vainly to your sorrows seek for rest, of one beloved in infancy,

On a rock where never verdure grew, But now far, far away.

Too wild even for the wild sea-mew
To build her slender nest!

Disturb’d by fluttering joy, he wakes,
And feels a death-like shock;
For, harder even than in his dream,
His bed is a lonely rock.
Poor wretch! he dares not open his eye,
For he dreads the beauty of the sky,
And the useless unavailing breeze
That he hears upon the happy seas.
A voice glides sweetly through his heart,
The voice of one that mourns ;
Yet it hath a gladsome melody-
Dear God! the dream returns!
A gentle kiss breathes o'er his cheek,
A kiss of murmuring sighs,
It wanders o'er his brow, and falls
Like light upon his eyes.
Through that long kiss he dimly sees,
All bathed in smiles and tears,
A well-known face; and from those lipe
A well-known voice he hears.
With a doubtful look he scans the Maid,
As if half-delighted, half-afraid,
Then bows his wilder'd head,
And, with deep groans, he strives to pray
That Heaven would drive the fiend away,
That haunts his dying bed.
Again he dares to view the air :
The beauteous ghost yet lingers there,
Veild in a spotless shroud:
Breathing in tones subdued and low
Bent o'er him like Heaven's radiant bow,
And still as evening-cloud.

Sublime is the faith of a lonely soul,
In pain and trouble cherishd;
Sublime the spirit of hope that lives,
When earthly hope has perish'd.
And where doth that blest faith abide?
O! not in Man's stern nature: human pride
Inhabits there, and oft by virtue led,
Pride though it be, it doth a glory shed,
That makes the world we mortal beings

In chosen spots, resplendent as the Heaven!
But to yon gentle Maiden turn,
Who never for herself doth mourn,
And own that faith's undying urn
Is but to woman given.
Now that the shade of sorrow falls
Across her life, and duty calls,
Her spirit burns with a fervent glow,
And stately through the gloom of woe
Behold her alter'd form arise,
Like a priestess at a sacrifice.
The touch of earth hath left no taint
Of weakness in the fearless saint.
Like clouds, all human passions roll,
At the breath of devotion, from her soul,
And God looks down with a gleam of grace,
On the stillness of her heavenward face,
Just paler in her grief.
While, hark! like one who God adorer,
Such words she o'er her lover pours,
As give herself relief.

Art thou a phantom of the brain ? Oh! look again on her who speaks He cries, a mermaid from the main ? To thee, and bathes thy sallow cheeks A seraph from the sky ?

With many a human tear!
Or art thou a fiend with a seraph's smile, No cruel thing beside thee leans,
Come here to mock on this horrid Isle, Thou knowest what thy Mary means,
My dying agony?-

Thy own true love is here.
Had he bat seen what touching sadness fell Open thine eyes! thy beauteous eyes!
On that fair creature's cheek while thus he For mercy smile on me!


Speak !—but one word! one little word! Had heard the stifled sigh that slowly broke 'Tis all I ask of thee, From her untainted bosom's lab'ring swell, If these eyes would give one transient gleam, He scarce had hoped, that at the throne of To cheer this dark and dreadful dream,


If, while I kiss thy cheek,
Sach cruel words could e'er have been for- These dear, dear lips, alas! so pale,


Before their parting spirit fail, The impious sin of doubting such a face, One low farewell would speak,

This rock so hard would be a bed

She looks like a bird of calm, that floats Of down unto thy Mary's head,

Unmoved when thunders roll, And gently would we glide away,

And gives to the storm as gentle notes Fitz-Owen! to that purer day

As e'er through sunshine stole. Of which thou once didst sing;

Her lover leans on her quiet breast,
Like birds, that, rising from the foam, And his heart like hers is still:
Seek on some lofty cliff their home, Ne'er martyr'd saints more meekly bow'd
On storm-despising wing.

To their Creator's will.
Yes! that thou hearst thy Mary's voice, As calm they sit, as they had steer'd
That lovely smile declares !

To some little favourite Isle,
Here let us in each other's arms

To mark upon the peaceful waves Dissolve our life in prayers.

The parting sunbeams smile; I see in that uplifted eye,

As if the lightly feather'd oar That thou art not afraid to die;

In an hour could take them to the shore, For ever brave wert thou.

Where friends and parents dwell: Oh! press me closer to thy soul,

But far, alas! from such shore are they, And, while yet we hear the Ocean roll, And of friends, who for their safety pray, Breathe deep the marriage-vow!

Have ta'on a last farewell. We hoped far other days to see ; But the will of God be done! My husband! behold yon pile of clouds But why thus gleams Fitz-Owen's eye? Like a city, round the Sun:

Why bursts his eager speech ? Beyond these clouds, ere the phantoms part, Lo! as if brought by angel-hands Thou wilt lean in bliss on my loving heart.- Uninjur'd on the beach,

With oars and sails a vessel lies:

Salvation from the gracious skies !
Sweet seraph! lovely was thy form, He fears it is a dream; that woe
When, shrouded in the misty storm Hath surely crazed his brain :
That swept o'er Snowdon's side,

He drives the phantom from his gaze,
The Cambrian shepherd, through the gloom, But the boat appears again.
Like a spirit rising from the tomb, It is the same that used to glide
With awe beheld thee glide;

When the wind had fallen low,
And lovely wert thou, Child of Light! Like a child along its parent's side,
When, gazing on the starry night Around the guardian prow
Within Llanberris Lake,

Of the mighty ship whose shadow lay
Thy spirit felt, in a hush like death, Unmoved upon the watery way:
The fading earth’s last whisper'd breath In the madness of that dismal hour,
The holy scene forsake.

When the shrieking Ship went down,
Oh ! lovelier still, when thy noiseless tread This little boat to the rocky Isle
Around thy aged mother's bed

Hath drifted all alone.
Fell soft as snow on snow,

And there she lies! the oars are laid
When thy yearning heart repress’d its sighs, As by the hand of pleasure,
And from thy never-closing eyes

Preparing on the quiet tide
Forbade the tears to flow.

To beat a gladsome measure.
But now unto thy looks are given

The dripping sail is carelesa tied
The beauty and the power of Heaven: Around the painted mast,
The sternness of this dismal Isle

And a gaudy flag with purple glows,
Is soften'd by thy saintly smile,

Hung up in sportive joy by those
And he, who lay, like a madman, bound Whose sports and joys are past.
In fetters of anguish to the ground,
And heard and saw, in fearful strife,
The sounds and the sights of unearthly life, So lightly doth this little boat
Now opens his eyes that glisten mild Upon the scarce-touch'd billows float,
Like the gladsome eyes of a waken'd child, so careless doth she seem to be
For the hideous trance is fled ;

Thus left by herself on the homeless sen,
And his soul is fill’d with the glory bright, That, while the happy lovers gaze
That plays like a wreath of halo-light On her, the hope of happier days
Around his Mary's head.

Steals unawares, like Heaven's own breath
O'er souls that were prepared for death.

They gaze on her, till she appears
Most awful is the perfect rest

As if she understood their tears ; That sits within her eye,

To lay there with her cheerfal mail Awful her pallid face imprest

Till Heaven should send some gracious With the seal of victory.

gale, Triumphant o'er the ghantly dreams Some gentle spirit of the deep, That haunt the parting sonl,

With motion soft and swift an sleep.

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