A VISION.
BY E. CURTISS HINE, U. S. N.
[This piece was composed during a tremendous storm off Cape Horn, on board the frigate "United States" in 1844.]
Night from her gloomy dungeon freed,
Had chased the lingering light away,
The landscape, clad in widow's weed,
Mourned o'er the couch of dying day;
Bright-shielded Mars, who leads the host
That watch around God's burning throne,
Placed sentinels on every post,
Whose beaming eyes upon me shone!
The tears of eve were falling fast,
With diamonds spangling every flower,
Whose gentle fragrance round was cast,
Like incense in some Eastern bower.
The wearied hind had left his plough
To rest within its furrowed bed,
And on full many a waving bough
Was heard the night-bird's lightest tread.
All else was still, save Nature's voice,
That whispered 'mid the waving trees,
And bade my lonely heart rejoice;
While oft the playful evening breeze,
Came o'er the moonlit Hudson's tide,
And brushed it with its playful wing,
As swift it hurried by my side,
Perchance in angel's bower to sing.
Afar the Highlands reared a wall,
To keep the clouds from passing by,
There, in a mass were gathered all,
Impatient gazing on the sky;
Where sister-cloud escaped was free,
Sailing the heaven's blue ocean o'er,
Like lonely frigate on the sea,
That seeks some fair and distant shore.