I miss the madd'ning Life of Seas,
When the red, angry sunset dies,
And to the storm-lash'd Orcades
Resound the Seaman's cries:
Mid thick'ning night and fresh'ning gale, upon
The stretch'd ear bursts Despair's appealing gun,
O'er the low Reef that on the lee-beam raves
With its down-crashing hills of wild, devouring waves.
V.
How then, at dim, exciting morn,
Suspense will question—as the Dark
Is clearing seaward—"Has she worn
The tempest through, that Bark?"
And, 'mid the Breakers, bulwarks parting fast,
And wretches clinging to a shiver'd mast,
Give funeral answer. Quick with ropes and yawl!
Launch! and for life stretch out! they shall not perish all!
VI.
These inland love-bowers sweetly bloom,
White with the hawthorn's summer snows;
Along soft turf a purple gloom
The elm at sunset throws:
There the fond lover, listening for the sweet
Half-soundless coming of his Maiden's feet,
Thrills if the linnet's rustling pinions pass,
Or some light leaf is blown rippling along the grass.
VII.
But Love his pain as sweetly tells
Beneath some cavern beetling hoar,
Where silver sands and rosy shells
Pave the smooth glistening shore—
When all the winds are low, and to thy tender
Accents, the wavelets, stealing in, make slender
And tinkling cadence, wafting, every one,
A golden smile to thee from the fast-sinking sun.
VIII.
Calm through the heavenly sea on high
Comes out each white and quiet star—
So calm up Ocean's floating sky
Come, one by one, afar,
White quiet sails from the grim icy coasts
That hear the battles of the Whaleing hosts,
Whose homeward crews with feet and flutes in tune
And spirits roughly blithe, make music to the moon.