University of Virginia Library

WRITTEN AT NAPLES.

'Tis sweet to listen to this voiceful sea,
While gentle airs call forth his melody;
And bask in this delicious sunshine bright
A Paradise of colour and of light!
And watch the stealing motion of the wave,
That sparkling creeps the shining shore to lave.
Let me enjoy this soothing scene awhile,
And learn to smile in mighty Nature's smile.
Let me lay down my burthening wearying cares,
And breathe the freshness of these buoyant airs;
And for a time—although that time be brief—
Forget I am the thrall of care and grief!
'Tis a bewildering—a bewitching scene—
Oh! let me fly from thoughts of what hath been.
Along the shining bosom of the bay
What bright luxuriant coruscations play;
With smiles and dazzling sparkles thick it teems,
A mass of shifting splendours and winged gleams—
An ever changing beauty there demands
A long protracted gaze—deep splendid bands,
Rich breadths of violet-hues—fade softly here
Into a tenderer azure, faint, yet clear;
And there a burning gold streams, deepening on,
As from the great Sun's very heart 'twas won;
And rosy shadows, such as blushing play,
Round Alpine summits at the break of day:
There lace and pave the water's surface fair—
Deep without gloom, and brilliant without glare,
A thousand, thousand rainbows seem spread there;
And melted though the charmed waves serene,
Each heightening more the magic of the scene.
'Tis a confusion of imperial hues—
Yet one Supreme, doth free and far diffuse
Its regal depth—one glorious above all,
That seems to hold the rest in its proud thrall.
The old Monarchic Purple of the Seas,
Like the eternal emerald to the trees—
Like the everlasting ruby of the rose—
The flush of gold, the pride of harvest shows—
That rich triumphal hue of Sea and Sky,
Maintaineth still its fine ascendancy—
And wheresoe'er it stains the water's breast,
Wins the fond dreaming eye from all the rest—
That beauteous hue,—the Heaven and Ocean's own,
Which for so long that eye as theirs hath known!
Oh! 'tis a prospect to exalt and bless,
And fill the heart with dream-like happiness!
More zestful, when 'tis little known, and rare;
More precious—when a guest unlooked for there.
And oh! how pure when thus it is bestowed
By Nature's self—when thus it hath o'erflowed
From her great glorious Soul into our own,
While love is heightening every feeling's tone—
How sacred when it thus seems deeply given;
A more immediate gift—from yon bright Heaven!