Her timbers yet are sound, Full charged with England's thunder, But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more. COWPER. I THE WRECK ALL night the booming minute gun Looked o'er the tide-worn steep. Had vailed her topsails to the sand, The queenly ship!-Brave hearts had striven, And true ones died with her! We saw her mighty cable riven, Like floating gossamer. We saw her proud flag struck that morn, A star once o'er the seas- Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn— We saw her treasures cast away,- And gold was strewn the wet sands o'er, And gorgeous robes.-But, oh! that shore We saw the strong man still and low, A crushed reed thrown aside; Yet by that rigid lip and brow, And near him on the seaweed lay— For her pale arms a babe had prest, Billows had dashed o'er that fond breast, Yet not undone the clasp. Her very tresses had been flung Where still their wet long streamers hung, And beautiful, midst that wild scene, Deep in her bosom lay his head, Oh! human love, whose yearning heart So stamps upon thy mortal part Its passionate adieu— Surely thou hast another lot, There is some home for thee, Where thou shalt rest, remembering not The moaning of the sea! FELICIA HEMANS. THE LIGHTHOUSE. THE rocky ledge runs far into the sea, Even at this distance I can see the tides, And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. And the great ships sail outward and return, Bending and bowling o'er the billowy swell; And, ever joyful as they see it burn, They wave their silent welcomes and farewells. They come forth from the darkness, and their sails Gleam for a moment only in the blaze; And eager faces, which the light unveils, Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. The mariner remembers, when a child, On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace; It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp, And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece. The startled waves leap over it; the storm Smites it with all the scourges of the rain, And steadily against its solid form Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din Of wings and winds and solitary cries, Blinded and maddened by the light within, Dashes him against the glare, and dies. A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock, "Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships! FORGING THE ANCHOR.1 THE Windlass strains the tackle chains; the black mound heaves below, And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe: It rises, roars, rends all outright-O Vulcan, what a glow! 'Tis blinding white; 'tis blasting bright-the high sun shines not so! The high sun sees not, on the earth, such fiery fearful show; The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the ruddy lurid row Of smiths that stand, an ardent band, like men before the foe: As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing monster slow 66 Sinks on the anvil; while the ring of faces fiery grow'Hurrah!" they shout. "Leap out, leap out!" Bang, bang! the sledges go. Hurrah! The jetted lightnings are hissing high and low; A hailing fount of fire is struck at every squashing blow. The leathern mail rebounds the hail; the rattling cinders strow The ground about; at every bound the sweltering fountains flow; 1 Although there is no breath, nor even a glimpse of the sea in these lines, I venture to think that the subject is sufficient excuse for their inclusion here; especially as I have been unable to find any really worthy song on the forging of an anchor. And thick and loud the swinking crowd, at every stroke, pant "Ho!" In livid and obdurate gloom he darkens down at last; cast. 1 O trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou hadst life like me, What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the deep green sea! S. FERGUSON. 1 The cathead, from which the anchor hangs at a vessel's bow, when ready to be cast. |