For her glorious path the sea she hath,
And she wanders bold and free,
And the tempest's breath and the billows' wrath
Are her mighty minstrelsy!
A queen the crested waves among,
A light and graceful form,
She sweeps along, to the wild-winds' song,
Like the genius of the storm!
SORROW AND SONG.
Weep not over poet's wrong,
Mourn not his mischances;
Sorrow is the source of song,
And of gentle fancies.
Rills o'er rocky beds are borne
Ere they gush in whiteness;
Pebbles are wave-chafed and worn
Ere they shew their brightness.
Sweetest gleam the morning flowers
When in tears they waken;
Earth enjoys refreshing showers
When the boughs are shaken.
Ceylon's glistening pearls are sought
In its deepest waters;
From the darkest mines are brought
Gems for beauty's daughters.
Through the rent and shiver'd rock
Limpid water breaketh;
'Tis but when the chords are struck
That their music waketh.
Flowers, by heedless footstep press'd,
All their sweets surrender;
Gold must brook the fiery test
Ere it shew its splendour.
When the twilight, cold and damp,
Gloom and silence bringeth,
Then the glow-worm lights its lamp,
And the night-bird singeth.