The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie ::

There is darkness on a dangerous coast,
Where waves on waves are wildly toss'd.
High cliffs, and rifted rocks between;
The strife is terrific, and all unseen.
Ay, loud is the roar of winds and waves,
As strong contention wildly raves;
A fearful sound of a fearful commotion,—
The many angry voices of the ocean.

Along the shore from cottage homes
No sound of stirring inmate comes,
Though some on restless beds there be
Whose thoughts are with the wanderers of the sea.
Hark! from the mingled din an utter'd sound,
Distinct and awful, booming through the air,
A signal of distress; some ship aground,
With all her hardy crew to perish there!
Another booming sound! must they be lost,
Within man's hearing, on this ruthless coast?

No, from the lady's window lights appear;
There's stirring life within, and blessed help is near.
And sooth to say, in some few minutes more
The lady's car is at the door
Herself into the seat is lifted,
And to her hands the reins are shifted.

But who is she, whose deeds fulfill
The generous impulse of her will
So quickly?—One, with limbs nerve-bound,
Whose feet have never trod the ground;
Who loves, in tomes of Runick lore,
To scan the curious tales of yore,
Of gods and heroes, dimly wild;
And hath intently oft beguiled
Her passing hours with mystic rhymes,
Legends by bards rehearsed of other times:
Learned, and loving learning well;
For college hall or cloister'd cell
A student meet, yet all the while
As meet with repartee and smile,
'Mid easy converse, polish'd, blithe, and boon,
To join the circles of a gay saloon:
From childhood rear'd in wealth and ease,
The daily care herself to please,
For selfish nature here below
A dangerous state, I trow.

Such is the dame who, reins in hand,
Drives forth, and checks her courser on the strand,
Where torches blaze, and figures rude
Pictured on darkness, round her stood;
And she on th' instant in that trying hour
Becomes to them a spirit, and a pow'r
To rouse, and to command,—
Those hardy seamen she had taught
To guide the life-boat with its fraught
Of living souls, through surf and surge,
And brave the whirling eddy's scourge.
But now, all daunted, in amaze
They doggedly upon her gaze,
And sternly murmur short reply.—
“Will ye then all stand coldly by;
With faint hearts shrinking in dismay
Let the dark deep devour its prey,
Your friends, your brothers, gallant men,
Who ne'er must see their homes again?
But no—my words her words may not express:
Their generous import your own hearts will guess
And they their lady's voice obey,
Unto the boat-house wend their way,
Launch the light vessel from the shore
Amid the angry surges' roar;
Vaulting and sinking, as they go
The waves above, or waves below;
While their mix'd words of terror, or of cheer,
Sad friends upon the shore confus'dly hear.
It was an awful thing for them to wait
The issue of their comrades' doubtful fate.—

Minutes like hours have slowly past,
Each sadder, slower than the last,
While fancied voices oft betray
The wistful ear, and pass away.
At length in sooth a nearing sound, though faint,
Of oars and tongues from moderate distance sent!
It cannot be the mocking tempest's cry.
It comes again, must be reality;
The boat, the boat! its iron tackles ringing!
And from its sides man after man is springing,
Who strangely rock and stagger on the land,
As though they knew not how to stand.
It is our own: they've nobly braved,
And brought to shore their dearly saved.
Loud shouts of thankful joy and pride
From the beach inland echo far and wide.

The Lady's grateful heart basis high,
Whilst quick of thought, and quick of eye,
She gives directions on the spot;
And forthwith each in kindly cot,
With raiment, food, and bed supplied,
Cheered with soothing words beside,
Five hardy seamen lay them down to sleep,
Who else had seen no more the sun's glad ray,
Whose place of rest before the peep of day
Had been the yawning deep:

821

Men, brave and useful, stark and strong,
Who each to some loved home belong,
Where loving mates and kinsfolk dear
Think of their absent mariner with fear.

Still on the beach some thoughtful stragglers stay
To watch the earliest streak of coming day,
As there it dimly marks the distant main:
And the lady returns to her home again,
With the sound of blessings in her ear
From young and old her heart to cheer:
Sweet thoughts within her secret soul to cherish—
The blessings of those who were ready to perish;
And there lays her down on her peaceful pillow,
Bless'd by the Lord of the wind and the billow.

University of Virginia Library

THE LADY IN HER CAR.

(A NIGHT-SCENE BY THE SEA.)