 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
12
THE WRECK.
Veiled were our topsails to the blast; our helm was lashed a-lee;
And fearlessly our vessel drove before a stormy sea,—
O, safely in our midst that night had lain an empire's crown;
For every mariner had said our vessel must go down!
And fearlessly our vessel drove before a stormy sea,—
O, safely in our midst that night had lain an empire's crown;
For every mariner had said our vessel must go down!
Some shrieked aloud; some humbly knelt, who never knelt before;
And some, with outstretched arms, looked forth toward the viewless shore;
And rougher still the rough wind blew, and heavier roll'd the sea,
Till every heart was poured in prayer, God of the storm, to Thee.
And some, with outstretched arms, looked forth toward the viewless shore;
And rougher still the rough wind blew, and heavier roll'd the sea,
Till every heart was poured in prayer, God of the storm, to Thee.
At length about the middle watch, an aged man and gray,
Right in the solemn hush, stood up, and said he could not pray;
And while, above our gallant deck, the mountain-billows broke,
Each soul forgot the storm, while thus the trembling sinner spoke:—
Right in the solemn hush, stood up, and said he could not pray;
And while, above our gallant deck, the mountain-billows broke,
Each soul forgot the storm, while thus the trembling sinner spoke:—
“I 've been a rover of the seas these four-and-forty years,
And, in their darkest hours, my eyes have been ashamed of tears;
But now I fain would give myself an offering to the deep,
If I could say the prayers you say, or weep as you can weep.
And, in their darkest hours, my eyes have been ashamed of tears;
But now I fain would give myself an offering to the deep,
If I could say the prayers you say, or weep as you can weep.
“The blackest clouds along the sky, through which the thunders roll,
Are calm as peace, when measured with the tempest in my soul:
Once, when my heart was innocent, and joyous as a bird's,
My mother taught me how to pray—I cannot say the words.
Are calm as peace, when measured with the tempest in my soul:
Once, when my heart was innocent, and joyous as a bird's,
My mother taught me how to pray—I cannot say the words.
13
“'T is well that mother died so soon, for oft, I know, she smiled,
And talked about the happiness that waited for her child;
And I have been long years of those whose troublings never cease,
Aside from Virtue's pleasant ways and all her paths of peace.
And talked about the happiness that waited for her child;
And I have been long years of those whose troublings never cease,
Aside from Virtue's pleasant ways and all her paths of peace.
“My spirit grew the house of pride; I scorned our humble cot,
And deemed that, for my lowliness, the world had loved me not.
Once, when the night was dark, like this, the thunder's roll as deep,
There was a whisper in my heart that would not let me sleep.
And deemed that, for my lowliness, the world had loved me not.
Once, when the night was dark, like this, the thunder's roll as deep,
There was a whisper in my heart that would not let me sleep.
“I knew 't was Satan telling me, Thou shalt not surely die;
And yet I went, as goes the bird, down to the serpent's eye.
Hard by my father's cot there dwelt a harmless man, and old,
Whose house was filled with merchandise and shining heaps of gold.
And yet I went, as goes the bird, down to the serpent's eye.
Hard by my father's cot there dwelt a harmless man, and old,
Whose house was filled with merchandise and shining heaps of gold.
“That night I sought his dwelling out, and with a stealthy tread,
Winding the gloomy passages, I stood beside his bed.
I said the night was dark with storm; but, by the lightning's beam—
(Oh, would to Heaven the arm upraised had withered in its gleam)—
Winding the gloomy passages, I stood beside his bed.
I said the night was dark with storm; but, by the lightning's beam—
(Oh, would to Heaven the arm upraised had withered in its gleam)—
“I saw him: I have been, since then, in lighted halls of mirth—
In deserts vast, and palaces, and caverns of the earth—
A thousand and a thousand times I've sailed across the deep.
And that old man has with me been, awake, and in my sleep.
In deserts vast, and palaces, and caverns of the earth—
A thousand and a thousand times I've sailed across the deep.
And that old man has with me been, awake, and in my sleep.
14
“Almost my heart misgave me once, so wan he looked, and old;
But when I turned to flee away, I saw the cursed gold;
And so I slew him—twice he stirred, and once he feebly cried,
As with a rough and heavy stone I smote him till he died.
But when I turned to flee away, I saw the cursed gold;
And so I slew him—twice he stirred, and once he feebly cried,
As with a rough and heavy stone I smote him till he died.
“Then clutching, in my bloody hands, the prize, I fled away;
But shapeless things had followed me, that I could never slay.
Three days in the thick woods I hid, afraid of every sound,
And o'er and o'er I washed my hands in every pool I found.
But shapeless things had followed me, that I could never slay.
Three days in the thick woods I hid, afraid of every sound,
And o'er and o'er I washed my hands in every pool I found.
“My guilt upon the withered leaves
seemed writ, as on a scroll,
And every wandering wind I met was questioning my soul:
I thought the dead man's gold so thrilled the marrow in my bones,
And, seeking out a lonesome cave, I hid it in the stones.
And every wandering wind I met was questioning my soul:
I thought the dead man's gold so thrilled the marrow in my bones,
And, seeking out a lonesome cave, I hid it in the stones.
“But still there were accusing tongues in herb, and flower, and tree,
And so I left the haunts of men, and wandered on the sea”—
Just then our fated vessel struck upon a rocky shore,—
One shriek arose, and all again grew silent as before.
And so I left the haunts of men, and wandered on the sea”—
Just then our fated vessel struck upon a rocky shore,—
One shriek arose, and all again grew silent as before.
I floated, as by miracle, upon the off-torn deck,
And knew not any living soul was with me on the wreck;
But when the morn, with misty eyes, looked down upon the tide,
That old man, with his arms across, was sitting at my side.
And knew not any living soul was with me on the wreck;
But when the morn, with misty eyes, looked down upon the tide,
That old man, with his arms across, was sitting at my side.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |