 | Italy and Other Poems |  |
Far otherwise my song, that tracts his course,
The bold adventurer, from life's cultur'd realms,
Who, bent on far discoveries, steers his bark
'Mid untried oceans. Such, as oft thy prow,
From pole to pole lone traversing the globe,
Explor'd: heroic Chief!
Whose memory, and last remains, rever'd
As one scarce mortal, consecrate the isle
Where thy long course of toil and glory clos'd;
And ruthless men, whose weapons drank thy blood,
Wept, as they knelt around thy hallow'd corse,
Proud Albion's boast, brave Cook!
The bold adventurer, from life's cultur'd realms,
Who, bent on far discoveries, steers his bark
'Mid untried oceans. Such, as oft thy prow,
From pole to pole lone traversing the globe,
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Whose memory, and last remains, rever'd
As one scarce mortal, consecrate the isle
Where thy long course of toil and glory clos'd;
And ruthless men, whose weapons drank thy blood,
Wept, as they knelt around thy hallow'd corse,
Proud Albion's boast, brave Cook!
So trace in thought
The voyager. His tempest-wearied sails
Rest, as the anchor bites an unknown coast.
His light skiff rides the surge, and forth he leaps,
Lone, on the rocky sea-beach. High in air
His torch, long beck'ning, flames: and lo! far off,
With faltering step, and wild eye turn'd askance,
One from the thick shade ventures, where he wont
With beasts to make his lair: or, couch'd beneath
Dark caverns, start at the tremendous roar
Of ocean, hurling its vex'd flood, by night,
Against the storm-rent promontory. Forth
He comes, a naked creature, comfortless;
His lip, and the dark tangles of his beard,
Stain'd with fresh blood, warm from the living prey
That battled long for mastery.—“Draw near!
“(The Stranger calls) break off the feast of blood.
“Satiate no more fell appetite, 'mid cries
“Of quivering agony! So feel, oh, Man!
“Thy nature, temper'd with celestial touch
“Of pity, and soft sense of woe not thine.”
The voyager. His tempest-wearied sails
Rest, as the anchor bites an unknown coast.
His light skiff rides the surge, and forth he leaps,
Lone, on the rocky sea-beach. High in air
His torch, long beck'ning, flames: and lo! far off,
With faltering step, and wild eye turn'd askance,
One from the thick shade ventures, where he wont
With beasts to make his lair: or, couch'd beneath
Dark caverns, start at the tremendous roar
Of ocean, hurling its vex'd flood, by night,
Against the storm-rent promontory. Forth
He comes, a naked creature, comfortless;
His lip, and the dark tangles of his beard,
Stain'd with fresh blood, warm from the living prey
That battled long for mastery.—“Draw near!
“(The Stranger calls) break off the feast of blood.
“Satiate no more fell appetite, 'mid cries
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“Thy nature, temper'd with celestial touch
“Of pity, and soft sense of woe not thine.”
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