So swept they on a great bright plain,
A charmèd breadth out-laid,
Where mountains rounded to the main
A charmèd circle made;
And northward couched a huge hill dream,
Which ofttimes, as it lay.
To heave and pant in sleep did seem,
Beneath the sultry day.
And leaning up against the hill,
Whose headland, purple-black,
The southern waters, as they fill,
Kiss daily, and fall back,
A simple hamlet, nowise planned,
Puts out a long arm white,
Where level sea and level sand
Scarce know each other’s right.
The mountains rule the east, but all
The west, the sea, the sea;
Save when the sun at evenfall
Disputes her sovereignty.
A kindly people held the land,
A kindly race and free;
So rest they found, that pilgrim band,
At Borth beside the sea.
V.
THE SEA.—SAFETY.
Bright sea, in thy waters rolled
Dost eternity enfold,
Endless being, uncontrolled,
Freedom, more than heart can hold,
Every wave a hope divine,
Sun-charms, golden line on line,
Thou great moving mystery-shrine!
Thine the first sounds that the earth
Heard, its cradle-song at birth.
Hidden voices in thy deep
Half untold their secret keep,
As they murmur evermore
Old-world tidings to the shore.
Glorious sea, thy moving light
Spreads round earth a mantle bright,
Wide as range of eye or mind,
Tameless playmate of the wind.
Like a shuttle glancing free
In and out, thy life, O sea,
Whatsoe’er thy mood hath been,
Weaves a web of magic sheen.
Gracious wandering life, the air
Sports around thee for its share;
Winds that move, and winds that rest,
Heaving softly on thy breast,
Like a sea-bird from the crest,
Rise from off thy waves, and fly,
Sweeping fresh the summer sky.
Glorious sea, glad, unconfined,
Free as range of eye or mind,
Tameless playmate of the wind,
Gracious power, whate’er thou be,
Lay thy sweetest liberty
At the pilgrims’ feet, O sea.
VI.
THE COLONY.
East and west, and north and south,
As if we were shot from a cannon’s mouth,
Hurrah, hurrah! here we all are.
Never was heard in peace or war,
The first in the world are we,
Never, oh, never, was heard before,
Since a ball was a ball,
And a wall a wall,
And a boy to play was free,
That a school as old as an old oak-tree,
Fast by the roots, was flung up in the air,
Up in the air without thought or care,
And pitched on its feet by the sea, the sea,
Pitched on its feet by the sea.
Ere the old school walls were dumb
With the silence of despair,
“March boys, march! the end has come!”
Rang the watchword proud and clear.
We our standard rallied round,
Thrice a hundred faithful found.
Playgrounds—leagues on leagues of shore;
Class-rooms—all the sea-king’s caves;
We are touched by Ariel’s power,
Free of air, and earth, and waves.
We are elves of Ariel’s range,
Nought but suffers a sea change.