CLVII.A VISION OF BRIGHT SEAS.
I
I never think without a thrill
Of wild and pure delight
Of all the leagues of blue, blue sea,
Which I have sailed o'er merrily
In day or dead of night.
II
With moon and stars, at morn and eve,
In sunny wind and shower,
How often hath it worked in me,—
That mystery of the kingly sea,
With joyous spells of power!
III
My heart doth burn whene'er I gaze
From o'er the vessel's side,
And see the tremulous sunbeams sleep
Far down within the azure deep,
And rocking in the tide.
IV
And I could sit for hours and watch
The white phosphoric track,
Which like a streaky firebrand burns,
Where'er the foamy rudder turns
Across night's ocean black.
V
Methinks that laid, as I am now,
Upon the rack of pain,
The briny seaweed's fragrant breath
On old St. Hilda's breezy heath
Might woo health back again.
VI
O it is well sick men should go
Unto the royal sea;
For on their souls as on a glass,
From its bright fields the breath doth pass
Of its infinity.
VII
Go forth from thy sick room this day,
My languid heart! go forth;
Mount on the merry moorland breeze,
And sweep o'er all the murmuring seas
We've known in south or north!
VIII
How quick the mountains melt away
The girdle of dark firs!
And Wansfell's broad opposing bank
Fades off into a shining blank,
And see—the vision stirs!
IX
Waves rock and flow, ships come and go,
And cities are displayed
Apparelled in transparent air,
With quays and harbors: surely ne'er
Was Merlin so obeyed!
X
There Genoa bends along the shore
Beneath her Apennines;
There emulous waters force their way
Into the locked and jealous bay
Where old Venetia shines.
XI
There are the low Dalmatian isles,
The gems on Adria's arms.
Albania's glens and white Corfu,
And Græcia's belt of waters blue,
And deep Ægean calms.
XII
Fling wide the antechamber door,
Where sweet Propontis catches
Sophia's gleam at break of day,
Or plaintive wail from cupola
Repeating the night watches.
XIII
Thou, hospitable Euxine! thou
Art not forgotten here,
Upon whose undulating breast,
Spite of all legends, did I rest
Calm as on Windermere.
XIV
Oh bliss! what lights the sun and moon
Have scattered o'er the sea,
Which, though to others they would seem
Confused into a radiant dream,
Are all distinct to me.
XV
My mother taught me how to love
The mystery of the sea;
She sported with my childish wonder
At its white waves and gentle thunder,—
Like a man's deep voice to me.
XVI
When in my soul dim thoughts awoke,
She helped to set them free;
I learned from ocean's murmurings
How infinite, eternal things,
Though viewless, yet could be.
XVII
In gentle moods I love the hills
Because they bound my spirit;
But to the broad, blue sea I fly,
When I would feel the destiny
Immortal souls inherit.
