University of Virginia Library

SEA! LOVELY SEA!

Sea! lovely Sea! so still, so blue, so bright,
Spread, like an Element of precious light,
In endless beauty now before our eyes!
Say, hast thou treasured up from these blue skies,
All hues of glory from the first rich burst
Of splendour, that e'er flushed them—from the first
E'en to the last of wond'rous loveliness,
With which thus royally thyself to dress?
Most beautiful thou art—nor thou alone,
All round thee girdled with Perfection's zone,
Triumphs in light and bloom while beauty bends,
E'en beauty that all dream, all thought transcends
Above the chrystal of thy mirror-wave,
Where gloom dares not to brood, nor storms to rave;
As though astonished at herself, so fair,
So strangely lovely doth she kindle there.
How clear that tracery shines—the forms, the hues
There mirrored so enchant us, that we lose
The proud reality, itself so bright,
In its sweet Image, that seems made of light.
Sea! glorious Sea! to thee 'tis surely given,
To lend new loveliness to Earth and Heaven,
These hills of beauty see themselves more fair,
Like golden mounts of glowing brightness there.
These skies, these matchless skies, more perfect seem,
Chained in the rapture of thy purple dream!
Is it that Heaven more heavenly seemeth, thus
Enshrined as 'twere in our own Earth—to us!
Ah! heavenliest still when thus immixed with thee,
Beloved, and beautiful, and blessed Sea!
That glorious Ocean! which triumphant rolls!
That mighty Sea!—'Tis like to our own Souls!
Wherefore we love it with a yearning love,
More than the Earth beneath, or skies above!
Sea! thou art like to our own living Souls—
(With whose unrest thy fine unrest condoles)—
These, too, thus brightly mirror back supreme,
Even heightened in their full majestic dream—
The mightiest pomps of Nature far and free,
Can thus the glass of all her glories be!
The Worlds—the rolling Worlds that shine at night,
Thereon are traced in all their blissful light,
And on that ample surface find they space,
To wear their splendours all—and run their race!—
As Sea, great Sea, upon thy surface fair,
Yet still they are but Stars of Beauty there—
They are but points of quivering radiancy
Thus mirrored back, blue Ocean, upon thee;
But in that Soul reflected, deep and clear,
How do they there outblazing, Sphere by Sphere,
Start into Suns and Worlds, undulled, undimmed,
With all the mystery of their Beauty brimmed,
With all their triumph on their beaming Heads,
Which far into the Soul each Glory sheds,
Not only on its surface spreading light,
But through its solemn depths with kindling might,
Far through its solemn, silent depths serene,
Where opens then a dread and wond'rous scene,
Which th' Angels who Creation's coming saw,
Might look upon with interest and with awe!
Not there, not there the Stars shine forth and gleam
Bright points of light; but deeply dazzling beam
Those Worlds, as Worlds, majestic, nor remain
Like fair lamps quivering, hung in viewless chain!—
No! through that Soul their proudest march is made,
In fulness of their awful pomp arrayed;
In all their dread unutterable pride,
With thrones, powers, principalities allied,
Telling of Him who made them evermore,
And still unfolding the divinest lore!
Through the deep Soul their proudest march is made,
In fulness of their startling pomp arrayed,
For there they seem to speak of Him alone
Whose shadow sits on them as on a throne,
And makes their brightness!—bidding them to shine
With matchless lustres and with light divine!
There, there to speak of Him alone they seem—
And with His Glory's living rays to beam,
There more immediately they seem to rise
From Him who breathed upon the spacēd skies;
And saw them swarm with Suns, that rolling blazed,
And with Perfection's truth their Maker praised.
Yes! more immediately they seem to spring,
Shrined in that Soul—a dread and deathless thing!
From His almighty and august command,
From the unknown working of his forming hand,
Than in these firmaments, where their pure flame
For centuried cycles still hath flashed the same;
And but of Him there speak—perchance like ours,
Those worlds so fair, with their empyreal dowers,
Have strange and mighty changes undergone,
Since first in their high place they proudly shone.
Perchance estranged from what they were they are,
And less of His Almighty favour share—
But we may only know them, only see,
As the offspring pure of Parent Deity;
They stream upon our souls with glory given,
From glory's fountain head, in highest Heaven.
They tell not of themselves to us—of thee
They tell—Oh! thou who spoke and bade them be.
Thus through our Souls their proudest march is made,
In shadow of the living Light arrayed!
There, truly as the Sons of God they shine,
In mystic brightness, dazzling and divine!
Each as of heavenly light the heavenly heir,
Are they triumphantly reflected there;
Our Souls are their supreme, sublimer Space—
'Tis there they run their most majestic race—
'Tis there—Creator of all worlds!—they seem
Full of Thy presence and Thy power to beam!—
'Tis these may shine most glorious and august—
Shrines of our hopes, and towers of our high trust;
Landmarks and lights of great Eternity
We look on them—and look through them on Thee.