 | Metrical essays |  |
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THE WAR SHIP.
“Like leviathans afloat,
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line.”
Campbell.
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line.”
Campbell.
I
The mid-day sun looks down,From his heaven clear and high,
On the sounding waves which sweep beneath,
Like another glorious sky.
II
A solitary shipComes rushing o'er the tide;
Like a thing of hope and light she seems,
In this her hour of pride.
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III
Her tall and noble mastStands like a forest pine;
A thousand men might march her decks,
In gallant battle line.
IV
Proudly her white flag streams,Which often on that sea
Has waved above the smoke of war—
The shout of victory!
V
Hark to the gathering din!—A foreign sail appears,
Which, towering midway to the skies,
Her gory crescent rears.
VI
Hark to the gathering din!—To the loud confused call—
Like the mutter'd threat'nings of a storm,
Ere its blasting thunders fall!
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VII
Hark to the onset cry!—The arm of war is bared;
The sword of blood and death is raised,
Which never yet hath spared.
VIII
Louder and louder growsThe booming cannon's bray;
The frighted eagle screaming soars
Far from that fearful fray.
IX
There are cries of agony,Mix'd with the shouts of rage;
Where the vessels amid smoke and flame
Their “hell of battle” wage.
X
She reels! that proud flag falls'Mid foemens' savage roar;
Her crew in ghastly heaps lie slain—
Her deck swims red with gore!—
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XI
For aye hath set her star—Her hold the dark sea drinks;—
Mid crash and shout, mid foam and blood—
That gallant vessel sinks!
XII
'Tis night—the round fair moonShines calmly o'er the wave,
Where cold, and in the sleep of death,
Rest the illustrious brave.
XIII
Oh! many a heart shall feel,When heard their doom of woe,
That weight of utter misery,
Which breaks young hearts to know!
XIV
Many grow sad and pale,Though their grief may not find breath;
But silently—like blighted flowers—
Will they pass on to death!
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XV
Woe for the hopes which seekTheir light from days to come!—
For ah! where most we look for joy,
There sorrow builds her home!
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