The legendary consisting of original pieces, principally illustrative of American history, scenery, and manners |
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A BURIAL AT SEA. |
 | A BURIAL AT SEA. The legendary |  |
203
A BURIAL AT SEA.
BY S. G. GOODRICH.
The shore hath blent with the distant skies,
O'er the bend of the crested seas,
And the gallant ship in her pathway flies,
On the sweep of the freshened breeze.
Oh! swift be thy flight, for a dying guest
Thou bearest o'er the billow,
And she fondly sighs in her own blue West
To find a peaceful pillow
'T is vain!—for her pulse is silent now,
Her lip hath lost its breath,
And a strange, sad beauty of the brow
Speaks the cold stroke of death.
The ship heaves to, and the funeral rite
O'er the lovely form is said,
And the rough man's cheek with tears is bright,
As he lowers the gentle dead.
The corse floats down alone—alone,
To its dark and dreary grave,
And the soul on a lightened wing hath flown,
To the world beyond the wave.
'T is a fearful thing in the sea to sleep
Alone in a silent bed,
'T is a fearful thing on the shoreless deep
Of a spirit world to tread.
O'er the bend of the crested seas,
And the gallant ship in her pathway flies,
On the sweep of the freshened breeze.
Oh! swift be thy flight, for a dying guest
Thou bearest o'er the billow,
And she fondly sighs in her own blue West
To find a peaceful pillow
'T is vain!—for her pulse is silent now,
Her lip hath lost its breath,
And a strange, sad beauty of the brow
Speaks the cold stroke of death.
The ship heaves to, and the funeral rite
O'er the lovely form is said,
And the rough man's cheek with tears is bright,
As he lowers the gentle dead.
The corse floats down alone—alone,
To its dark and dreary grave,
And the soul on a lightened wing hath flown,
To the world beyond the wave.
'T is a fearful thing in the sea to sleep
Alone in a silent bed,
'T is a fearful thing on the shoreless deep
Of a spirit world to tread.
204
But the sea hath rest in its twilight caves,
To the weary pilgrim given,
And the soul is blest on the peaceful waves
Of the star-lit deep of heaven.
The ship again o'er the wide blue surge
Like a winged arrow flies,
And the moan of the sea is the only dirge
Where the lonely sleeper lies.
To the weary pilgrim given,
And the soul is blest on the peaceful waves
Of the star-lit deep of heaven.
The ship again o'er the wide blue surge
Like a winged arrow flies,
And the moan of the sea is the only dirge
Where the lonely sleeper lies.
| A BURIAL AT SEA. The legendary | |