On the approaching close of The Great Exhibition And other poems. By The Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley |
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 | On the approaching close of The Great Exhibition |  |
95
LINES WRITTEN IN PERU, 1850.
1
I gaze still round,—beneath—above,Seeking for what may best remind
Of my dear land of life and love,—
And may I hope to find?
2
Those golden-streaming Heavens serene,This glittering, crystal air,—
Yon tropical and lustrous scene
I hail no likeness there.
3
The very stars seem stranger-things,And all around, beneath,
Unlike, indeed, a shadow flings,
O'er memory's magic wreath!
96
4
But stay!—seem England's own, those smiles,Which sparkle far and free,
(Dear to the children of the Isles,—)
Where rolls Her own proud Sea!
5
Her own proud subject Sea,—for, say,Where can we rest or roam,
Beside his thundering waves' wild play,
Nor hail a Briton's home?
6
Those thunders are but welcomes sweet,To ears that love their sound;
Glad time the tossing billows beat,
To the free pulses' bound.
7
Where'er Men rest, where'er they roam,Oh, thou majestic sea!
They find brave Englishmen at home,—
In England, when on Thee!
8
Home as thou art thus of Albion's sons,Thou ever-glorious Main!—
Still seem'st thou to her faithful ones,
Part of her noble reign.
9
Throne of Our Albion and Her Sons,Oh, Royal Sea! thou art;
For ever to Her faithful ones,
Of her proud reign seem part!
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10
Still the outstretched Deep,—their world-wide home,—Like them endures no chain;
A loving sway is theirs who roam,
O'er their own glorious main.
11
Do Seas where their vast Triumph rides,Hold their proud Empire dear?—
The Imperial Main,—the exultant Tides,
Seem ruled by love, not fear!
12
Ocean!—thou art an England stillTo our fond eyes and heart;
And Memory needs but feeble skill
To paint Her where Thou art!
| On the approaching close of The Great Exhibition | |