 | [A dream of the sea, in] The token |  |
235
A DREAM OF THE SEA.
I slept; and lo! upon my shrinking sight
The melancholy waste of ocean rose;
Not with its glassy pictures of delight,
When o'er its caves the glancing sunbeam throws
The peerless glory of a deep repose;
But like a world of waters, sounding high,
As when o'er Alps the rushing storm-clouds close;
Thus each roused foam-wreath whitened in the sky,
And blending with their roar, came Terror's funeral cry.
The melancholy waste of ocean rose;
Not with its glassy pictures of delight,
When o'er its caves the glancing sunbeam throws
The peerless glory of a deep repose;
But like a world of waters, sounding high,
As when o'er Alps the rushing storm-clouds close;
Thus each roused foam-wreath whitened in the sky,
And blending with their roar, came Terror's funeral cry.
Deep murmured unto deep; the up-heaving tide
Disclosed the skeleton, the diadem;
Once shrieks arose, to which no heart replied,
When the waves made a sepulchre for them,
As the storm-spirit heard the requiem,
And fanned the dun clouds with his dusky wing;
Young, bounding hearts, that scarce the air could stem,
To boundless depths were given, an offering,
Faded, as buds will fade, cut off in early spring!
Disclosed the skeleton, the diadem;
Once shrieks arose, to which no heart replied,
When the waves made a sepulchre for them,
As the storm-spirit heard the requiem,
And fanned the dun clouds with his dusky wing;
Young, bounding hearts, that scarce the air could stem,
To boundless depths were given, an offering,
Faded, as buds will fade, cut off in early spring!
236
The staggering ships sank down into the brine,
The lightning went upon its hurried way;
Oh! that a gift of eloquence were mine,
That stirring scene of horror to portray,
All mingled in one dark and dim array!
I stood upon the shore; the lone gull near,
As he swept onward through the troubled spray,
Shook his stern pinions by my startled ear,
Hastening, with screams of joy, upon his proud career!
The lightning went upon its hurried way;
Oh! that a gift of eloquence were mine,
That stirring scene of horror to portray,
All mingled in one dark and dim array!
I stood upon the shore; the lone gull near,
As he swept onward through the troubled spray,
Shook his stern pinions by my startled ear,
Hastening, with screams of joy, upon his proud career!
I woke! 'T was morning—in the infant year—
Roused by the voices of the early spring,
How danced my heart, as eloquent and clear
The reckless wild birds chanted on the wing,
Pouring their lays, a sinless offering!
While silver streams by meadow verdure wound
Far through the pleasant landscape glistening,
As buds bent humbly to the dewy ground,
And steeped in golden light, the blue hills stretched around!
Roused by the voices of the early spring,
How danced my heart, as eloquent and clear
The reckless wild birds chanted on the wing,
Pouring their lays, a sinless offering!
While silver streams by meadow verdure wound
Far through the pleasant landscape glistening,
As buds bent humbly to the dewy ground,
And steeped in golden light, the blue hills stretched around!
| [A dream of the sea, in] The token | |