The Human Inheritance :: :: University of Virginia Library

A vast deep dome wherein the shining fires
Of space hung panting, as though keen desires
Burn'd in them to spring forth from the blind force
That held them as in leash; a comet's course
Blazed in the east, and constellations flamed
As through the night they strode; the famed
Canopus, whom on Syrian wastes afar
Men once had worshipp'd, and the fiery star
Aldebaran, and, sword-girt, great Orion
Whose light feared not the moon's—all these outshone
With splendour from dark heaven, and many more
Which mariners know well when drifting o'er
The far south seas: the Southern Cross agleam
With fire shone high, and, as in some fierce dream
A tigress pants, the pulsing star men know

As Sirius, in ever changing glow,
Blood-red, and purple, green, and blue, and white,
Flamed on the swarthy bosom of the night.

II.

As though the Power that made the Nautilus
A living glory on the perilous
Wild seas to roam, had from the utmost deep
Call'd a vast flawless pearl from out its deep
And carved it crescentwise, exceeding fair,—
So seem'd the crescent moon that thro' the air
With motionless motion glided from the west,
And sailing onward ever seem'd at rest.

III.

Below, the wide waste of the ocean lay.
League upon league of moonled waters, spray
And foam and salt sea-send; a world of sea
By strong winds buffeted. And furtively
At times a shadow loomed above the waves
Only to fade, as men say out of graves
Troop spirits who flee back at mortal gaze;
This shadow was a ship, which many days
Ago had pass'd the doleful straits where sleep

The storms that rage and ravin on the deep.
She seem'd a bird, black, with tremendous wings
Poised high above her, a condor-bird that brings
Death in her sweep. Slowly the shadow grew
Distinct, and the stars seem'd more faint or few,
And the waves waxed wan and leaden, and afar
I' the east the night seem'd troubled: ev'ry spar
Stood forth in outline, and above the topmost sail
The delicate glory of the moon grew pale.

IV.

The night rose from the east, and with slow sweep,
Her shadowy robes about her, o'er the deep
Far westward floated; the dusk, her sister fair,
With soft remembering eyes and twilight hair,
From out the brooding depths of heaven stole,
And linger'd with her faint sweet aureole
Of trembling light, as though she could not leave
The shadowy ways she haunted, where waves heave
As sighing in sleep, and as adream the wind
Breathes hushfully. But lo, the east behind
Quivers, and afar the horizon thrills
One moment, and a seabird wails and shrills
Then sinks to rest again. And like a dream

That fades as we awake, or like the gleam
Upon a child's face ere it falls to sleep,
The tender twilight faded o'er the deep.

V.

Again the whole east trembled, and a hush
Fill'd sky and sea; and then a rosy flush
Stole upward, as sweet and delicately fair
As pink wild roses in the April air.
And suddenly some shafts of gold were hurled
Right up into the sky, and o'er the world
A molten flood seem'd imminent, till swift
The rose veil parted in a mighty rift,
And the great sun sprang forth, and o'er the sea
Rose up resplendent, shining gloriously.

VI.

White shone the wind-fill'd sails of the tall ship
Escaping from the waves, fain to outstrip
This giant of the deep: a league behind
The white track she had made danced in the wind
Foaming and surging, while white clouds of spray
Swept from the bows that cleft their wind-urged way.

VII.

And suddenly a shout came from the crew,
For one had spied emerging from the blue
What seem'd a delicate pale purple band
Of morning cloud; no larger than a hand
It lay asleep upon th' horizon line
And like some lovely amethyst did shine.
But this was land, and eager eyes were bent
To take the wonder in. Even then a scent
Of something sweeter than the salt sea-breeze
Seem'd in the air, odours of spicy trees
And sweet green grass, and fruits, and flow'rs the eye
Sees only 'neath the hot Pacific sky;
And every heart was glad, for each felt free
For one day from the ever present sea.

VIII.

But after noon had passed with scorching rays
The wind grew slack and ceased, and then a haze
Crept from the quivering north, and to and fro
Wandered the windless waves, as white sheep go
Straggling about the meadow-lands when far
The shepherd strays; and from the distant bar,

White in both calm and tempest, that enwound
What now was seen an island, came the sound
Of breaking billows in a muffled roar,
As in a shell one hears a wave-washed shore.
And soon the sea itself grew still and mild
And seem'd to sleep, just as a little child
After its boisterous play and fretful rest
Lays down its head upon its mother's breast,
And, smiling, becomes one of God's pure things
Once more: and as with folded wings
An angel sleeps upon the buoyant air
So wholly slept the wind; while, with her hair
A misty veil about her, Silence rose
And cast o'er sea and sky her hush'd repose.

IX.

As a dream slowly onward drifts to sleep
So stealthily the windless ship did creep
Closer and closer to the foaming bar;
Noon burned above, like furnace vast afar
Flaming unseen; and, with a dazzling glare,
The sleeping ocean heaved her bosom bare
As some great woman of the giant days
Supine 'mid mountain-grasses in the rays

Of an intolerable sun might breathe
With panting breasts: far in cool depths beneath
'Mid swaying loveliness of ocean weed
Bright fish swam to and fro, and with fell speed
The pale shark gleamed and vanish'd, as when Death
Is seen a moment 'mid life's failing breath.

X.

At last a boat put off from the ship's side
Urged by swift oars,—a speck upon the wide
And dazzling waste: and soon the bar was crossed,
And the long ridge, where foam for ever tossed
Like fountain sprays around, once past, a mile
Of motionless loveliness without the smile
Of even one young rippling wave stretched on
Till its blue lips the white sands fawned upon.

XI.

Swift in the rowlocks swept the oars, and fast
The boat fled strained and throbbing until past
The azure mile, and on the shelving beach
Its brown keel grided sharply; each to each
Shouted with joyous cries and boyish mirth
To feel beneath their feet the steadfast earth

Again, to see the scared birds scream and fly
Circling around, the waving palms on high
Heavy with milk-filled nuts, and branches bent
With juicy fruits, and a little stream that sent
Delicious thrills of thirst thro' each one there
So clear it seem'd and like some living thing
Dancing and splashing in its wandering:
And then to feel the very air fill'd full
Of scents delicious stealing from the cool
Green forest shades, heavy magnolias fair
O'er brimm'd with odours sweet, green maiden-hair
Quivering above the intoxicating bliss
Of heavy laden lilies, each a kiss
Lost to the world of lovers, but grown here
To shape and hue, of festooned orchids made
Of colours such as burn in rainbows, fade
Gloriously in sundown western skies,
Or shine within the splendour of sunrise:
Great fragrant blossoms twined amongst the trees
Like prisoned birds-of-paradise, by bees
And gorgeous insects haunted: and such deeps
Of billowy green (the loveliness that sweeps
The soul more swift to joy than brightest flow'rs),
As though the forest were a myriad bow'rs,
Too fair for man, wrought hither into one

For the fair dreams of old who 'neath the sun
Laugh'd in the vales of Tempe, or outrun
The stag in Attic woods, or danced upon
Hymettus and the slopes of Helicon.

XII.

But one amongst the joyous men withdrew
And wander'd inland, for his spirit knew
That rapt delight in its own subtle mood
When the soul craves and yearns for solitude
Akin to its own loneliness of joy.
A man in strength and stature, yet a boy
In years and heart, to whom the whole sweet, fair,
And beautiful world was a thing laid bare
By God for man to love, to whom it seemed
A loveliness more sweet than he had dreamed
Of woman in the passionate dreams of youth:
He saw the joy and glory, not the ruth
And death and grief that unto older eyes
Dwell likewise there, as water underlies
The still white beauty of the frost: but to
The poet it must seem so ever, new
And fresh and wonderful and sweet and true
And ever-changing, for although he know

The strange coincidence of natural woe
With what to him is as the breath of God,
He sees beyond and deeper—every clod
Of earth that holds a flow'r-root is to him
The casement of a miracle; in the grim
Reflux, decay, that doth pervade all things,
He sees not but the shadow of death's wings,
But only mists of sleep and change that drift
Till the bowed face of Life again shall lift.

XIII.

As the hot day swooned into afternoon
Hotter and hotter grew the air, and soon
All the north-western space of sky became
Heavy, metallic, where the heat did flame
In quivering bronze; and the sea grew changed
Tho' moveless still, as though dark rivers ranged
Purple and green and black throughout its deeps;
At times, as a shudder comes o'er one who sleeps
And dreams of something evil, swiftly flew
Across its face a chill that changed the blue
To a sheet of beaten silver; then again
It slept on as before but as in pain.

XIV.

And suddenly the ship's gun fired, and then
Three times the ensign dipped; startled, the men
A moment stared, then down the shingly strand
Sped swiftly, and from the silvery sand
That edged the wave-line launched their boat and sprang
Each to his place, and soon there sharply rang
Through the electric air the cleaving oars
That swept them seaward from the island shores.

XV.

The sea seemed changed to oil, heavy and dark
And smooth, with frequently a blotch-like mark
Or stain, as though the lifeless waves had died
Of some disease and lain and putrified.
And like a drop of oil, heavy and thick,
A raindrop fell making a sheeny flick
That glitter'd strangely; then another came,
Another, and another, till a flame
Of pale wan light flicker'd above the waves
That slept, or lifeless lay, as over graves
New-made a ghastly glimmer drifts and gleams,

Or as that vagrant fire that faintly streams
O'er lonely marsh lands thro' each swarthy night.
There was a strange, weird, calm, unearthly light
Shifting about the sky, as o'er the face
Of one who had been fair a smile might chase
The horror of some madness half away.
The raindrops ceas'd: from the boat's oars the spray
Fell heavily: and then once more it rained
Slow drops awhile the boat's crew gained
The ship, where all with waiting anxious eyes
Watched the metallic gloom of brazen skies.

XVI.

And suddenly there crashed a dreadful peal
Right overhead—the whole world seem'd to reel
And stagger with the blow: the heaven's womb
Opened and brought forth flame: an awful gloom
Stretched like a pall and shrouded up the sun:
Then once again the thunder seem'd to stun
The shaking firmament, and livid jags
Of lightning tore the cloud-pall into rags,
Again and yet again as tho' 'twere hurled
Straight down for the destruction of the world,

And yet again like hell's fire uncontrolled:
And ceaselessly the deafening thunder rolled
Above and all around, as though the ship
Was in the hollow of God's hand, whose grip
Would close ere long and into powder grind.
At last burst forth the fury of the wind
Imprison'd long, which like a wild beast sprang
Upon the panting sea and howling swang
Its great frame to and fro, and yelled and tore
Its heaving breast, tossing thick foam like gore
In savage glee about; and like a spray
Of blossom whirled before a gale, away
The ship was swept o'er boiling seas that fled
Before the wild wind howling as it sped
Far from its thunderous caverns overhead.

XVII.

And not till then it suddenly was known
That on the island whence their barque had flown
One who had thither gone was left behind—
He who had wandered inland: but the wind
Blew ever with a shrill and doleful cry,
Calling the bloodhound waves to faster fly
And seize the fleeing ship; a million deaths

Leagues behind follow'd them with clamorous breaths;
To turn were to perish, and so they sped
Onward, as helpless as a whirling grain
Of sand upon a tempest-stricken plain.

XVIII.

Meanwhile the island trembled 'neath the pow'r
Of the rushing wind, as though its final hour
Had come upon it; but he whose eager eyes
Watched the frail ship being hurl'd far out of sight
Feared not so much himself the tempest's might
But rather for those friends swept far away.
If saved, he knew that some immediate day
Would see the white sails gleaming on the sea
Beyond the bar again, and joyously
He laughed to think of happy hours to spend
Yet here awhile. Two hours passed, and the end
O' the storm came; and while he watched it sweep
Like a destroying angel o'er the deep
Far to the south, the sun shone forth again,
The birds shook from their wings the clinging rain
And thrilled the air with gladness, and the land
Bloomed out afresh, and on the shining sand

The waves broke with a soft repentant motion;
Miles and miles stretched the foaming dancing ocean,
Tossing blue waves in glee and whirling spray
Hither and thither, until tired of play
And wearying for calm dreams it also grew
Quiet and still and slept in one dense blue.

XIX.

It was now late in the sweet afternoon,
The hours of shadow and sweet rest: and soon
The day would fall asleep in sunset clouds
And twilight steal and cover earth with shrouds
Of morning dusk, until the solemn night
Would eastward come crown'd with the lambent light
Of the full golden moon. But still the sun
Hung high in the west, nor would his course be run
For one hour yet or more, and land and sea
Owned him yet lord in regnant majesty.

XX.

On the north-west of the island rose a height,
Crown'd with tall waving palms, of coral white
Heaved through long years from sea-depths far below.
Thither the young man turn'd his steps to go

To see the farewell splendours of the day
All marshall'd in magnificent array.

XXI.

He passed whole brakes of sweet magnolias, fair
Orchids with flushed white breasts and streaming hair,
Lilies with languorous golden eyes, and flowers
That stooped to kiss him from their leafy bowers
Hid in green spaces; then right through a glade
Of trembling tree-ferns wander'd; then the shade
Of lofty palms enclosed him, till he came
Once more on orchids, each one as a flame,
Scarlet, or white, or purple, tree-ferns high
Warming their trailing tresses 'neath the sky
Where the sun burn'd low down, frond laid on frond
Of spiked green cacti, and at last, beyond
A stretch of dazzling sand, laughing in glee
The blue bright jubilant waters of the sea.

XXII.

And suddenly he started as though stung
By some hid snake, then down his frame he flung
And looked with eager eyes. Upon the strand

He saw brown figures move—a joyous band
Of laughing girls: and lo, upon the crown
Of a great billow that came thundering down,
One fair girl-shape with long hair blown behind
Poised for a moment! The soft western wind
Thrill'd with sweet echoed cries, and then once more
A great curved billow swooped upon the shore
Bearing an agile form that gleam'd forth bright
Like shining bronze against the sunset light.

XXIII.

Quite close upon the shore he lay; so near,
He saw the happy light within their clear
Dark eyes, and saw their joyous laughter make
A sweetness round their lips, and saw them shake
The thick black tresses of their hair, all wet
With salt sea-spray. He thought that he had met
The fabled syrens, or the nymphs of eld

Whom Pan loved dearly, by hard fate compell'd
To leave their antique Greece—and as he stood
Wrapt in the pleasant vision of this mood,
A cry shrill'd suddenly along the sand,
And in a moment almost the bare strand
Stretched white and lonely, for as shadows flee
When the sun springs impetuously
From mountain peak to peak so swiftly fled
The nude bronze figures. The sinking sun, red
Like a wounded warrior king, lay down
I' the west to die, taking his shining crown
Of gold from off his brow, which unseen hands
Held poised above him in mid air: the lands
That he had conquer'd thro' the long fierce day,
And seas that owned his rule, faded away
Before his filming eyes, but, ere the night
Should come, once more he rais'd his stricken sight
From out the purple royal robes that wound
About his limbs—stared straight, as on a hound
Baying a lion far off, on Night whose size
Gigantic loomed i' the east—strove yet to rise
But could not—so lay back with glazing eyes
Upon the blood-stain'd clouds—while overhead
A star leaped forth knowing his lord was dead.

XXIV.

But he had heard that in these happy isles
Friendly the natives were—that welcome smiles
Met each who wander'd there—so forth he went
Across the shingly strand, then stopped and sent
A shrill cry through the air. And speedily
Tall lissom figures drew anear; then he
By signs related how the changeful sea
Had brought him thither, and how hunger made
Him weary: and thereafter, when he stayed
His signs and waited, one who seem'd a chief
Stepped forth and handed him a palm-tree leaf
In sign of friendship, and with kindly eyes
Lifted his hand and waved it all around
As though to say that all things he had found
Were his, that here he might find welcome rest
And live with them partaking of their best.

XXV.

They led him then across the sands to where,
In a delicious hollow where cool air
That late had wander'd on the thirsty seas
Dwelt in green spaces, 'neath great branchéd trees

Cluster'd their huts: and entering into one
The old chief led him as an honour'd son,
And soon sweet fruits and flesh of fowl and kid
Were laid before him, plantain-bread amid
Its broad green leaves, and the strong native wine
The palm-nuts give, and sweet fish from the brine
New caught, and water from a running stream
That gurgled near like music in a dream.

XXVI.

The short and tender twilight had now fled,
And all night's starry hosts shone overhead
In myriad fires, and rising suddenly
The orb'd and yellow moon above the sea
Shone full: it might have been the risen soul
From a dead sea whose waves had ceased to roll.

XXVII.

And at the sound of laughter on the sands
Those in the hut came forth: clapping his hands
The old chief made some summons, and anear
One drew—a living loveliness, with clear
Dark wonderful large eyes whose depths contained
The passionate spirit in the flesh enchained:

A mouth like some wild rose bud red, a bare
Bronzed beautiful neck, round which her waving hair
Swayed like the wind-blown tendrils of a vine,
Or like the tangled sea-weed in the brine
Tide drifted to and fro; her bosom swelled
Urged by her panting heart, as when beheld
Of old the queen, whose face made all the world
One war, the eyes of Anthony—or as
When Helen flush'd when Paris first did pass
Before her with fixt gaze; around her waist
A girdle of fair feathers interlaced
With cowrie shells drooped slant-wise to her knee,
And small and delicate feet, like those that flee
Among the shadowy hills at dawn when far
The twilight hours speed 'fore the morning star,
Press'd but scarce marked the sand: she stood as one
Tranced in a vision, and he as on that sun
Columbus stared that offered him the West.
Love's fire was litten sudden in each breast.

XXVIII.

Ah! in the years to come how that night seemed
Some beautiful vision that he long since dreamed!
The moon rose slowly o'er the sea, as though

She linger'd in those heavenly ways wherethro'
The stars shone as bright flow'rs: the leagueless deep
Had lullabied its waters into sleep,
And only at long intervals there blew
A cool soft fanning wind that ere long grew
Aweary also, and so stirred aside
The slow reluctant leaves and like a tide
Crept ever farther in amongst the trees
Till in a little dell, with flow'rs the bees
Haunted all day, it sank to restful ease.
Laughter and wild strange music from curv'd shell
And palm-tree flute far echoed; the sea swell
Urged hushfully its endless monotone—
And he the ship had left stood there alone
And knew it not, for his whole life was filled
With the utter peace, and his spirit thrilled
With imminent joy, and all his heart was hot
With new-born love, and all else was forgot.

XXIX.

When he that night lay sleeping on his bed
Woven of palm-tree fibre, strange dreams fled
Like ghosts through the dark valley of his sleep.
He dreamt he saw the green weeds of the deep

Swaying unconscious of the light of day,
And 'neath their convolutions lo! there lay
Two shining gems that seem'd alive with light:
And then he dreamt that dark eternal night
Brooded for ever, without change, around—
Till suddenly two stars leaped with a bound
From out the womb of chaos, staring straight
Upon him: and next he dreamed that fate
Had wash'd his wan drown'd body to the strand
Where the waves wanton'd with him, when a hand
He saw not pulled him from the brine that made
His tangled hair like sea-weed, softly laid
His wave-tossed head upon a bank of flow'rs, and drew
A palm branch 'twixt him and the burning blue
Of heaven; and then he oped his weary eyes
And met the gaze of one from Paradise:
And then he woke, and knew the gems he saw
Down in the ocean depths with such strange awe,
And the two stars that made th' eternal night
Pregnant with message, and the orbs that o'er
Him bent when death had washed him to the shore,
Were each time but the eyes of her whose gaze
Had flashed to his soul's utmost depths, whose face
Seem'd burned and printed on his heart, whose grace

Haunted his inward vision as when floats
The fair mirage 'fore him who far off notes
Its unsubstantial beauty, shining clear
Yet never to be reached or be brought near.

XXX.

Six days passed, and it seem'd as though he had
Dwelt there since birth: joyous, unthinking, glad,
He was at one with those who lived around.
They called him by some sweet name like a sound
Of distant music, and the name that meant
So much to him and all the quick blood sent
Up to her face whene'er to her he spake
Was Aluhà. Oft by a little lake
That inland lay half hidden by great white
And scented lilies, curtain'd from the light
By tall and shadowy fronds of fern, they strolled
Hand claspt in hand; and when the fragrant gold
That was the heart of some great forest-flow'r
Fell on their face and hands in a sudden show'r,
Stirred by some quivering wing of bird the heat
Kept silent 'midst the leaves, her laughter sweet
Rippled like falling water, till their eyes
Of a sudden met, and a swift flush did rise

And make her face a ruddy damask rose,
And his hand trembled as of one who knows
A perilous abyss beside him yawn.
And in the tender beauty of the dawn
Together they went down and watched the sea
With little wavelets splashing hushfully
Beyond the breaking rollers, till afar
The east was seen to tremble, and a star
Made of pure gold to twinkle on a wave,
Till suddenly the sun, as from a grave
A soul might spring rejoicing, sprang sheer up
Above the sky-line—and as from a cup
O'er-brimm'd the flooded water pours, clear gold
Along the lifted waves resistless rolled.

XXXI.

And on the seventh day the tropic sun
Grew fiercer still; the noon-heats seemed to stun
Both sea and land, and the long afternoon
Lay like a furnace on the deep: the moon
Sailed through the breathless sky at last and brought
Cool shadows; till a little breeze long sought
Wander'd on vagrant wings unto the isle.
Where the strand crescent curv'd, almost a mile

From the palm-shaded huts, there was a bend
Of forest, sweet with heavy scents, the end
Of a magnolia brake; and overhead
Tall tree-ferns waved, and thick grass made a bed
Where the dark sky and stars were seen alone,
And the sea was not save for its hush'd moan.

XXXII.

And there the lovers lay silent and still.
At times the listless wind would send a thrill
Through the dark leaves, or a hidden bird would shake
Its wings while dreaming, or a wave would break
On the unseen sea with an unusual sound,
Or suddenly a beetle on the ground
Would clang its sharded wings, yet these but made
The silence deeper. Lost within the shade
The lovers lay: her dark eyes watched a star
Straining in heaven as though its fires impelled
It forth to spring where it far down beheld
The earth in soft light spin; he watched her eyes
Reflect the panting star-fire in the skies;
And then he trembled, and once strove to speak
But could not. Then against his flushing cheek

A tress of hair wind-lifted from her breast
Brushed gently: then he sudden stooped and pressed
His lips to hers, and clasped her close and cried
In a strange voice Aluhà! Side by side
Silent they lay awhile, as though half dazed
By extreme passion: till at last she raised
Her eyes to his with one long look that thrilled
His spirit with love's ecstasy fulfilled.

XXXIII.

And like a dream the long night drifted past,
As a thick mist, stirred by no mountain blast
But moving in some strange mysterious way,
Drifts o'er the steep hill sides. Faint, wan, and grey
The far east grew, and in the dusky sky
The moon sail'd lustreless, and mistily
The planets shone, and paled each starry fire
Each like some sad and unfulfill'd desire.

XXXIV.

And when the sun rose it was in a mist
Wrought of pale gold, purple, and amethyst,
Changing to lovely carmine, then to rose,
Then to a faint blue haze of heat; like snows

That melt away before the soft south wind
Each wandering cloud faded the sun behind:
And over all the quivering sky there spread
A deepening haze, so that overhead
The sun tho' flaming fiercely was not seen.
Ere this the light stirred through their leafy screen
And woke the lovers: in his eyes the fire
Of passion was not quenched, and still desire
Dwelt in the shadowy depths of those he loved:
Still hand in hand they lay; and neither moved,
As though they feared the breaking of some charm
Too dear for speech. At last she stole her arm
Around his neck and put her lips to his
And wedded him again with one long kiss—
And all the blood within him was like wine
Burning his veins; his spirit felt divine
In the first flush of love surpassing sweet,
And in this climax life seem'd made complete.

XXXV.

Then hand in hand, with ever and again
Eyes seeking eyes, as though with hungry pain
Love starved for reassurance, ever new
And wonderful,—they went, shaking the dew

That glistened on each leaflet to the ground.
There was an ominous absence of all sound
Such as most mornings knew; the quivering haze
Curtain'd the well-lov'd sky, and to their gaze
It seemed the palms and heavy flowers stooped
Already heavy, and in the shadow drooped
The birds with half closed wings, or swiftly sped
Voiceless to deeper shade: but overhead
A whirling insect flew with a fierce drone
Shrill and metallic: with a stifled moan
The brooding sea remembered some old grief.
And when upon the ground a wither'd leaf
Fell rustling, though not a breath of wind blew there,
It whirled in circles thro' the electric air.

XXXVI.

Aluhà passed into her hut, and he
Sought coolness in his own: noon heavily
Drew near, and with a brooding sense of pain
Fill'd up the day. All nature seem'd to strain
Expectant of some evil, as men wait
Helpless the heavy hand of imminent fate.

XXXVII.

And suddenly like some far distant gun
A long low rumble mutter'd: the red sun
Shrunk thro' a livid mist, and shone no more.
A billowy swell swept swiftly on the shore
Though no wind blew; the oily sea was freaked
With lines such as a stagnant pool is streaked;
And the tall palm-trees shiver'd, as a breath
Of icy air had whispered them of death.

XXXVIII.

Again, like far artillery in the sky,
The distant thunder rattled: a low sigh
Moan'd o'er the deep, but not a drop of rain
Fell from above,—then all was still again.
Dark and more dark it grew, as though the day
Were shadow'd in eclipse; but far away
Strange sudden lights were darting through the clouds,
Like gleaming corpse lights o'er a dead sun's shrouds;
And darker still it grew, till overhead
Aterrible livid blackness was outspread

And the storm brooded right above the isle.
Still the same awful silence! Mile on mile
Of wan and purply waters lay as tho'
They sank from some fierce scourge, and to and fro
A surface-current twisted like a black
And sinuous serpent; the salt sea-wrack
Oozed out a filthy scum that sullenly
Blotched the dead calm with spots like leprosy.

XXXIX.

And suddenly, as 'twere the crash of doom,
Heaven seem'd to rock! From out the blasted womb
Of the thick darkness belched a stream of fire
Blazing and burning, as though hell's desire
Furrowed the world, that shook and quaked and reeled
As deafeningly the dreadful thunder peeled
From horrible abysses in the sky.
And in the midst thereof a piercing cry
Of human pain followed a livid flash
Of lightning, when again a dreadful crash
Blasted the air o'erhead while rock and steep
Shook as by motion of the swaying deep.

XL.

Then, as though all the floods that heav'n had stored
For days and days were loose, the dense rain poured
Downward in blinding torrents: till an hour
Dragged slowly past; and then it seem'd the power
O' the storm had vanish'd. Far off in the east
The thunder howled still, like a savage beast
Famished and tearing at its stricken prey.
But from the isle it was now far away,
And the sun shone once more, and a cool breeze
Blew from the south, and the drench'd dripping trees
Flashed as though clad in shining coats of mail.
And lo! upon the west sea-marge a sail
Hover'd like some white bird,—but heeding not
The sea or what it held the lover sought
His bride of one sweet night, and drawing near
Called Aluhà! And then with sudden fear
He saw her father's hut was torn half down
And part all scarred and scorched; its crown
Of palm leaves was no more, but on the ground
Lay strewn and broken; and not a single sound
Bless'd his strained ear. With shaking hands he drew
The fallen leaves aside, and then he knew

Whose dreadful cry it was that shook the air
Above the din! With all her lovely hair
Strewn o'er the delicate bosom's dusky grey,
And with closed eyes, hence loveless, quiet she lay.
Only adown the tender brow there ran
A narrow furrow. Close by lay a man,
Her brother, with a scorch'd and blacken'd cheek,
And on his face the unenfranchised shriek
Which swift death intercepted: without stain
Or mark dead also the old chief! All pain
Was over for them, and their little life
Was ended as a dream or bygone strife.

XLI.

So still they lay: he could not quite believe
Each spark of life had fled. Could cruel fate weave
Such sorrow from her loom for no good end?
But when he took the hand which used to send
Such tremors through him, kissing it again
And yet again, and felt the dreadful pain
Of no response, and in a numbed strange daze
Looked in the eyes where from his eager gaze
Death shrouded up the soul, he knew at last
All that had come to him: his sweet dream past,

His passionate love a thing that was no more
But only a stinging memory to brood o'er,
Life turned a little wearier, and the morn
Of youth grief-clouded, older grown, forlorn—
When all this came upon him the sobs shook
His strong young frame. And then once more he took
His dear love in his arms, and kissed her lips
As though her spirit yet from the eclipse
Wherein it lay might wake, calling her wife
And darling, his dear love, his joy, his life,
Till the sobs choked his utterance and stayed
The agony of his loss. And then he laid
Her gently down, and one long farewell gazed
Then left and wander'd forth as one half dazed.

XLII.

'Twas late in the afternoon when down the strand
He saw one running towards him with his hand
Pointing out seaward o'er the curving bay.
And lo! before his eyes his own ship lay
With yards squared round, and urged by splashing oars
The longboat steering for the island shores.

XLIII.

A few short hours ago he would have bid
The old life glad good-bye, choosing amid
The island folk to dwell—but now the land
Was hateful to him, for no loving hand
Would beckon him again by the little lake
That slumber'd lily-clad; no eyes would make
His heart beat fast with joy; and never again
Would the dear voice replace the last hour's pain.

XLIV.

So, when the boat's keel grided on the shore,
And eager shipmates clasped his hand once more,
A great weight was uplifted from his heart:
Yet was he loth when the hour came to part
With those who loved him and had made him seem
One of themselves. But soon 'twas all a dream
Strange and unreal, when, standing on the deck,
He saw the island lessen to a speck
In the fast gathering twilight. Soon his eyes
No more beheld the earthly paradise
Where he had tasted the sweet joy of love,
Yet the same solemn moon that sailed above

Had seen their passion bloom, a tropic flower,
Through one delicious, lost, remember'd hour.

XLV.

For youth is but a glad forgetfulness,
Or rather, passing onward: the years bless
With such sweet copious gifts, the soul stays not
To linger with sad sorrows best forgot
But like the tender south wind of the spring
It goes from flow'r to flow'r, while glad birds sing
And the blue skies are fair: what good to wait
By this or that blown rose until too late
We find the sombre autumn drawing nigh
Wherein few roses bloom? For steadily
The years come round wherein past youth doth seem
The irrevocable beauty of a dream.

For a very vivid and beautiful description of the skill of the Pacific Islanders in this native pastime see the fascinating volume by Mr. C. W. Stoddard, entitled Summer Cruising in the South Seas. (1874.)