Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
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A Night-sail in the Race of Alderney,
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 | Ballads for the Times |  |
A Night-sail in the Race of Alderney,
Sept. 6, 1850.
Sprinkled thick with shining studs,
Stretches wide the tent of heaven,
Blue, begemm'd with golden buds,—
Calm, and bright, and deep, and clear,
Glory's hollow hemisphere
Arch'd above these frothing floods,
Right and left asunder riven,
As our cutter madly scuds,
By the fitful breezes driven,
When exultingly she sweeps
Like a dolphin through the deeps,
And from wave to wave she leaps,
Rolling in this yeasty leaven,—
Ragingly that never sleeps,
Like the wicked unforgiven!
Stretches wide the tent of heaven,
Blue, begemm'd with golden buds,—
Calm, and bright, and deep, and clear,
Glory's hollow hemisphere
36
Right and left asunder riven,
As our cutter madly scuds,
By the fitful breezes driven,
When exultingly she sweeps
Like a dolphin through the deeps,
And from wave to wave she leaps,
Rolling in this yeasty leaven,—
Ragingly that never sleeps,
Like the wicked unforgiven!
Midnight, soft and fair above,
Midnight, fierce and dark beneath,—
All on high the smile of love,
All below the frown of death:
Waves that whirl in angry spite
With a phosphorescent light
Gleaming ghastly on the night,—
Like the pallid sneer of Doom,
So malicious, cold, and white,
Luring to this watery tomb,
Where in fury and in fright
Winds and waves together fight
Hideously amid the gloom,—
As our cutter gladly scuds,
Dipping deep her sheeted boom
Madly to the boiling sea,
Lighted in these furious floods
By that blaze of brilliant studs,
Glistening down like glory-buds
On the Race of Alderney!
Midnight, fierce and dark beneath,—
All on high the smile of love,
All below the frown of death:
Waves that whirl in angry spite
With a phosphorescent light
Gleaming ghastly on the night,—
Like the pallid sneer of Doom,
So malicious, cold, and white,
Luring to this watery tomb,
Where in fury and in fright
Winds and waves together fight
Hideously amid the gloom,—
As our cutter gladly scuds,
Dipping deep her sheeted boom
Madly to the boiling sea,
Lighted in these furious floods
By that blaze of brilliant studs,
Glistening down like glory-buds
On the Race of Alderney!
| Ballads for the Times | |