Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year, thro'all the silent night
Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!
The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smotes it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
Press the great shoulders of the hurricane."
This is bold and felicitous: the following, to "The Twilight," is in a more tender strain. The first verse we cannot quote: we suspect there is some misprint in our copy. Mr Longfellow could not have written these lines—
"And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea."
Whether women's caps or men's nightcaps are alluded to, the image would be equally grotesque. The poem continues—
"But in the fisherman's cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.
Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if these childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness
To see some form arise.
And a woman's waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,
Now bowing and bending low.
What tale do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
As they beat at the crazy casement,
Tell to that little child?
And why do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the mother,
Drive the colour from her cheek?"