The winds come around her in murmur and song,
And the surges rejoice as they bear her along.
See! she looks up to the golden edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gaily aloft in the shrouds;
Onward she glides amid ripple and spray,
Over the waters-away and away!
Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part,
Passing away like a dream of the heart.
Who, as the beautiful pageant sweeps by-
Music around her, and sunshine on high-
Pauses to think, amid glitter and show,
Oh, there be hearts that are breaking below!
Night on the waves !—and the moon is on high,
Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky,
Treading in depths, in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds as they pass her to light.
Look to the waters! asleep on their breast―
Seems not the ship like an island of rest ?
Bright and alone on the shadowy main,
Like a heart-cherish'd home on some desolate plain.
Who-as she smiles in the silvery light,
Spreading her wings on the "bosom" of night,
Alone on the deep, as the moon in the sky,
A phantom of beauty-could deem, with a sigh,
That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin,
And souls that are smitten lie bursting within?
Who, as he watches her silently gliding,
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever-
Hearts which are parted and broken for ever!
Or deems that he watches, alone on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave?
'Tis thus with our life-while it passes along,
Like a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song,
Gaily we glide in the gaze of the world,
With streamers afloat, and with canvas unfurl'd;
All gladness and glory to wandering eyes,
Yet charter'd by sorrow, and freighted with sighs:
Fading and false is the aspect it wears,
As the smiles we put on just to cover our tears;
And the withering thoughts which the world cannot know,
Like heart-broken exiles lie burning below;
While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore
Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er.
THE STORMY SEA.
ERE the twilight bat was flitting,
In the sunset, at her knitting,
Sang a lonely maiden, sitting
Underneath her threshold tree;
And as daylight died before us,
And the vesper star shone o'er us,
Fitful rose her tender chorus-
Warmly shone the sunset glowing;
Sweetly breathed the young flowers blowing; Earth with beauty overflowing,
Seem'd the home of love to be,
As those angel tones ascending,
With the scene and season blending,
Ever had the same low ending-
Famie's on the stormy sea!"
Curfew bells remotely ringing,
Mingled with that sweet voice singing;
And the last red rays seem'd clinging
Lingeringly to tower and tree:
Nearer as I came and nearer,
Finer rose the notes and clearer ;
O! 'twas Heaven herself to hear her-
"Jamie's on the stormy sea!"
Blow, ye west winds! blandly hover
O'er the barque that bears my lover;
Gently blow and bear him over
To his own dear home and me;
For when night winds bend the willow,
Sleep forsakes my lonely pillow,
Thinking of the foaming billow--
"Jamie's on the stormy sea!"
How could I but list, and linger,
To the song, and near the singer,
Sweetly wooing Heaven to bring her
Jamie from the stormy sea:
And while yet her lips did name me, Forth I sprang-my heart o'ercame me— "Grieve no more, Sweet, I am Jamie,
Home returned to love and thee!"
THE DREAM OF THE MARINER'S WIFE.
"Aн me, my dream!" pale Helen cried,
With hectic cheeks aglow;
"Why wake me? Hide that cruel beam!
I'll not win such another dream
On this side Heaven I know.
"I almost feel the leaping waves,
The wet spray on my hair,
The salt breeze singing in the sail,
The kind arms strong as iron mail,
That held me safely there.
"I'll tell thee: on some shore I stood,
Or sea, or inward bay,
Or river broad, I know not,-save
There seemed no boundary to the wave
That chafed and moaned away.
"The shore was lone, the wave was lone,
The horizon lone ; no sail
Broke the dim line 'twixt sea and sky,
Till slowly, slowly, one came by,
Half ghost-like, grey and pale.
"It was a very little boat,
Had neither oars nor crew;
And as it shoreward bounded fast,
One form seemed leaning by the mast―
And Norman's face I knew!
"He never looked nor smiled at me,
Though I stood there alone;
His brow was very grave and high,
Lit with a glory from the sky,-
The wild bark bounded on!
"I shrieked: 'Oh! take me; take me, love!
The night is falling dread.'
'My boat may come no nearer shore;
And, hark! how mad the billows roar !
Art thou afraid?' he said.
"Afraid! with thee?' 'The wind sweeps fierce
The foamy rocks among ;
A perilous voyage waiteth me'
'Then, then, indeed I go with thee,' I cried, and forward sprung.
"All drenched with brine, all pale with fear,
Ah! no, not fear, 'twas bliss!—
I felt the strong arms draw me in ;
If after death to heaven I win
'Twill be such joy as this!
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