The American common-place book of poetry with occasional notes |
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Effect of the Ocean and its Scenery on the Mind of the Buccaneer when agitated with Remorse for his Crime.—Richard H. Dana.
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 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
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Effect of the Ocean and its Scenery on the Mind of the Buccaneer when agitated with Remorse for his Crime.—Richard H. Dana.
Who's yonder on that long, black ledge,
Which makes so far into the sea?
See! there he sits, and pulls the sedge—
Poor, idle Matthew Lee!
So weak and pale? A year and little more,
And thou didst lord it bravely round this shore!
Which makes so far into the sea?
See! there he sits, and pulls the sedge—
Poor, idle Matthew Lee!
So weak and pale? A year and little more,
And thou didst lord it bravely round this shore!
And on the shingles now he sits,
And rolls the pebbles 'neath his hands;
Now walks the beach; then stops by fits,
And scores the smooth, wet sands;
Then tries each cliff, and cove, and jut, that bounds
The isle; then home from many weary rounds.
And rolls the pebbles 'neath his hands;
Now walks the beach; then stops by fits,
And scores the smooth, wet sands;
Then tries each cliff, and cove, and jut, that bounds
The isle; then home from many weary rounds.
They ask him why he wanders so,
From day to day, the uneven strand?—
“I wish, I wish that I might go!
But I would go by land;
And there's no way that I can find—I've tried
All day and night!”—He looked towards sea, and sighed.
From day to day, the uneven strand?—
“I wish, I wish that I might go!
But I would go by land;
And there's no way that I can find—I've tried
All day and night!”—He looked towards sea, and sighed.
It brought the tear to many an eye,
That, once, his eye had made to quail.
“Lee, go with us; our sloop rides nigh;
Come! help us hoist her sail.”
He shook.—“You know the spirit-horse I ride!
He'll let me on the sea with none beside!”
That, once, his eye had made to quail.
“Lee, go with us; our sloop rides nigh;
Come! help us hoist her sail.”
He shook.—“You know the spirit-horse I ride!
He'll let me on the sea with none beside!”
He views the ships that come and go,
Looking so like to living things.
O! 'tis a proud and gallant show
Of bright and broad-spread wings
Flinging a glory round them, as they keep
Their course right onward through the unsounded deep.
Looking so like to living things.
O! 'tis a proud and gallant show
Of bright and broad-spread wings
Flinging a glory round them, as they keep
Their course right onward through the unsounded deep.
And where the far-off sand-bars lift
Their backs in long and narrow line,
The breakers shout, and leap, and shift,
And send the sparkling brine
Into the air; then rush to mimic strife:—
Glad creatures of the sea! How all seems life!—
Their backs in long and narrow line,
The breakers shout, and leap, and shift,
And send the sparkling brine
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Glad creatures of the sea! How all seems life!—
But not to Lee. He sits alone;
No fellowship nor joy for him.
Borne down by wo, he makes no moan,
Though tears will sometimes dim
That asking eye.—O, how his worn thoughts crave—
Not joy again, but rest within the grave.
No fellowship nor joy for him.
Borne down by wo, he makes no moan,
Though tears will sometimes dim
That asking eye.—O, how his worn thoughts crave—
Not joy again, but rest within the grave.
The rocks are dripping in the mist
That lies so heavy off the shore.
Scarce seen the running breakers;—list
Their dull and smothered roar!
Lee hearkens to their voice.—“I hear, I hear
You call.—Not yet!—I know my time is near!”
That lies so heavy off the shore.
Scarce seen the running breakers;—list
Their dull and smothered roar!
Lee hearkens to their voice.—“I hear, I hear
You call.—Not yet!—I know my time is near!”
And now the mist seems taking shape,
Forming a dim, gigantic ghost,—
Enormous thing!—There's no escape;
'Tis close upon the coast.
Lee kneels, but cannot pray.—Why mock him so?
The ship has cleared the fog, Lee, see her go!
Forming a dim, gigantic ghost,—
Enormous thing!—There's no escape;
'Tis close upon the coast.
Lee kneels, but cannot pray.—Why mock him so?
The ship has cleared the fog, Lee, see her go!
A sweet, low voice, in starry nights,
Chants to his ear a plaining song.
Its tones come winding up those heights,
Telling of wo and wrong;
And he must listen, till the stars grow dim,
The song that gentle voice doth sing to him.
Chants to his ear a plaining song.
Its tones come winding up those heights,
Telling of wo and wrong;
And he must listen, till the stars grow dim,
The song that gentle voice doth sing to him.
O, it is sad that aught so mild
Should bind the soul with bands of fear;
That strains to soothe a little child
The man should dread to hear!
But sin hath broke the world's sweet peace—unstrung
The harmonious chords to which the angels sung.
Should bind the soul with bands of fear;
That strains to soothe a little child
The man should dread to hear!
But sin hath broke the world's sweet peace—unstrung
The harmonious chords to which the angels sung.
In thick, dark nights, he'd take his seat
High up the cliffs, and feel them shake,
As swung the sea with heavy beat
Below—and hear it break
With savage roar, then pause and gather strength.
And, then, come tumbling in its swollen length.
High up the cliffs, and feel them shake,
As swung the sea with heavy beat
Below—and hear it break
With savage roar, then pause and gather strength.
And, then, come tumbling in its swollen length.
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But thou no more haunt the beach,
Nor sit upon the tall cliff's crown,
Nor go the round of all that reach,
Nor feebly sit thee down,
Watching the swaying weeds:—another day,
And thou'lt have gone far hence that dreadful way.
Nor sit upon the tall cliff's crown,
Nor go the round of all that reach,
Nor feebly sit thee down,
Watching the swaying weeds:—another day,
And thou'lt have gone far hence that dreadful way.
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