 | Songs of the sea, with other poems |  |
39
THE MISSING SHIP.
1841.
God speed the noble President!
A gallant boat is she,
As ever entered harbor,
Or crossed a stormy sea.
Like some majestic castle
She towers upon the stream;
The good ships moored beside her
Like pigmy shallops seem.
A gallant boat is she,
As ever entered harbor,
Or crossed a stormy sea.
Like some majestic castle
She towers upon the stream;
The good ships moored beside her
Like pigmy shallops seem.
How will her mighty bulwarks
The leaping surges brave!
How will her iron sinews
Make way 'gainst wind and wave!
Farewell, thou stately vessel!
Ye voyagers, farewell!
Securely on that deck shall ye
The tempest's shock repel.
The leaping surges brave!
How will her iron sinews
Make way 'gainst wind and wave!
40
Ye voyagers, farewell!
Securely on that deck shall ye
The tempest's shock repel.
The stately vessel left us,
In all her bold array;—
A glorious sight, O landsmen,
As she glided down our bay!
Her flags were waving joyfully,
And from her ribs of oak,
“Farewell!” to all the city
Her guns in thunder spoke.
In all her bold array;—
A glorious sight, O landsmen,
As she glided down our bay!
Her flags were waving joyfully,
And from her ribs of oak,
“Farewell!” to all the city
Her guns in thunder spoke.
Flee, on thy vapory pinions!
Back, back to England flee;
Where patient watchers by the strand
Have waited long for thee;
Where kindred hearts are beating
To welcome home thy crew,
And tearful eyes gaze constantly
Across the waters blue!
Back, back to England flee;
Where patient watchers by the strand
Have waited long for thee;
Where kindred hearts are beating
To welcome home thy crew,
And tearful eyes gaze constantly
Across the waters blue!
41
Alas, ye watchers by the strand,
Weeks, months have rolled away,
But where, where is the President?
And why is this delay?
Return, pale mourners, to your homes!
Ye gaze, and gaze in vain;
O, never shall that pennoned mast
Salute your eyes again!
Weeks, months have rolled away,
But where, where is the President?
And why is this delay?
Return, pale mourners, to your homes!
Ye gaze, and gaze in vain;
O, never shall that pennoned mast
Salute your eyes again!
And now your hopes, like morning stars,
Have one by one gone out;
And stern Despair subdues at length
The agony of doubt;
But still Affection lifts the torch
By night along the shore,
And lingers by the surf-beat rocks,
To marvel, to deplore.
Have one by one gone out;
And stern Despair subdues at length
The agony of doubt;
But still Affection lifts the torch
By night along the shore,
And lingers by the surf-beat rocks,
To marvel, to deplore.
In dreams, I see the fated ship
Torn by the northern blast;
About her tempest-riven track
The white fog gathers fast;
When, lo! above the swathing mist,
Their heads the icebergs lift,
In lucent grandeur to the clouds—
Vast continents adrift!
Torn by the northern blast;
About her tempest-riven track
The white fog gathers fast;
42
Their heads the icebergs lift,
In lucent grandeur to the clouds—
Vast continents adrift!
One mingled shriek of awe goes up,
At that stupendous sight:
Now, helmsman, for a hundred lives,
O, guide the helm aright!
Vain prayer! she strikes! and, thundering down,
The avalanches fall!
Crushed, whelmed, the stately vessel sinks—
The cold sea covers all!
At that stupendous sight:
Now, helmsman, for a hundred lives,
O, guide the helm aright!
Vain prayer! she strikes! and, thundering down,
The avalanches fall!
Crushed, whelmed, the stately vessel sinks—
The cold sea covers all!
Anon, unresting Fancy holds
A direr scene to view,—
The burning ship, the fragile raft,
The pale and dying crew.
Ah me! was such their maddening fate
Upon the billowy brine?
Give up, remorseless Ocean,
A relic and a sign!
A direr scene to view,—
The burning ship, the fragile raft,
The pale and dying crew.
Ah me! was such their maddening fate
Upon the billowy brine?
Give up, remorseless Ocean,
A relic and a sign!
43
No answer cometh from the deep,
To tell the tale we dread;
No messenger of weal or woe
Returneth from the dead;
But Faith looks up through tears, and sees,
From earthly haven driven,
Those lost ones meet in fairer realms,
Where storms reach not—in Heaven.
To tell the tale we dread;
No messenger of weal or woe
Returneth from the dead;
But Faith looks up through tears, and sees,
From earthly haven driven,
Those lost ones meet in fairer realms,
Where storms reach not—in Heaven.
| Songs of the sea, with other poems | |