 | [Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde |  |
FRAGMENT II
The morn breaks gloriously!—the wind is fair—
The bugle sounds, the boatswain's whistle cheers,
The word is past—for parting all prepare,
And many a lovely cheek is wet with tears:
Brief space such scenes allow for woman's fears!
A few fond words—a kiss—a short embrace—
Thus sever they who meet no more for years!
Perhaps who never meet on earth again!
But mad Ambition only stops to trace
His score of millions spent and thousands slain!
The dreadful reckoning of the human race
With him, war, pestilence, and all his train,
He sees not, or, if seen, regards with cold disdain!
The bugle sounds, the boatswain's whistle cheers,
The word is past—for parting all prepare,
And many a lovely cheek is wet with tears:
Brief space such scenes allow for woman's fears!
A few fond words—a kiss—a short embrace—
Thus sever they who meet no more for years!
Perhaps who never meet on earth again!
But mad Ambition only stops to trace
His score of millions spent and thousands slain!
The dreadful reckoning of the human race
With him, war, pestilence, and all his train,
He sees not, or, if seen, regards with cold disdain!
All are embarked!—the signal-gun they fire!—
The gallant pinnace bounds before the wind,
And dances on the waters! Mast and spire
And tower and tree and town are left behind!
And those who watch the bark receding, find
Distance and sorrow's mists obscure her sail:
The bar is past—the fresh'ning breeze is kind—
The pilot parts—round go the laugh and tale,
And joyous thus the song floats far upon the gale!
The gallant pinnace bounds before the wind,
And dances on the waters! Mast and spire
And tower and tree and town are left behind!
And those who watch the bark receding, find
Distance and sorrow's mists obscure her sail:
The bar is past—the fresh'ning breeze is kind—
The pilot parts—round go the laugh and tale,
And joyous thus the song floats far upon the gale!
105
SEA SONG
Sons of the deep! Ye spirits brave,
Whose victories saved a nation's fame,
From whom the ruler of the wave
First learned the pangs of fear and shame!
To you the cup is flowing free,
To you we fill, where'er you roam,
Whether you brave the stormy sea,
Or dare the thunderer on his home.
Whose victories saved a nation's fame,
From whom the ruler of the wave
First learned the pangs of fear and shame!
To you the cup is flowing free,
To you we fill, where'er you roam,
Whether you brave the stormy sea,
Or dare the thunderer on his home.
Skilful and bold—in hardship nurs'd—
By horrour taught—by peril tried—
In danger and in glory first—
Your country's hope, her joy, her pride!
To your loved names, ye gallant few,
Our souls the song of triumph raise,
And after years shall swell for you
“The fondly lingering notes of praise.”
By horrour taught—by peril tried—
In danger and in glory first—
Your country's hope, her joy, her pride!
To your loved names, ye gallant few,
Our souls the song of triumph raise,
And after years shall swell for you
“The fondly lingering notes of praise.”
Long may your flag its lustre shed
O'er the wild waters of the main;
Long may the laurel crown your head,
And never, never wear a stain.
To you, with soul-enamouring beam,
Dear woman's melting eye shall turn,
Your deeds shall be the sage's theme,
And o'er the story youth shall burn!
O'er the wild waters of the main;
Long may the laurel crown your head,
And never, never wear a stain.
To you, with soul-enamouring beam,
Dear woman's melting eye shall turn,
Your deeds shall be the sage's theme,
And o'er the story youth shall burn!
| [Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde | |