The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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THE FISH-HAWK, OR OSPREY. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
THE FISH-HAWK, OR OSPREY.
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“The regular arrival of this noted bird at the vernal equinox, when the busy season of fishing commences, adds peculiar interest to its first appearance, and procures it many a benediction from the fishermen. With the following lines, illustrative of these circumstances, I shall conclude its history”:—
Soon as the sun, great ruler of the year,
Bends to our northern clime his bright career,
And from the caves of ocean calls from sleep
The finny shoals and myriads of the deep;
When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride,
And day and night the equal hours divide;
True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore,
The sailing osprey high is seen to soar,
With broad unmoving wing, and circling slow,
Marks each loose straggler in the deep below;
Sweeps down like lightning! plunges with a roar!
And bears his struggling victim to the shore.
The long-housed fisherman beholds with joy,
The well known signals of his rough employ;
And as he bears his nets and oars along,
Thus hails the welcome season with a song:
Bends to our northern clime his bright career,
And from the caves of ocean calls from sleep
The finny shoals and myriads of the deep;
When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride,
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True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore,
The sailing osprey high is seen to soar,
With broad unmoving wing, and circling slow,
Marks each loose straggler in the deep below;
Sweeps down like lightning! plunges with a roar!
And bears his struggling victim to the shore.
The long-housed fisherman beholds with joy,
The well known signals of his rough employ;
And as he bears his nets and oars along,
Thus hails the welcome season with a song:
The Fisherman's Hymn.
The osprey sails above the Sound,
The geese are gone, the gulls are flying;
The herring shoals swarm thick around,
The nets are launched, the boats are plying.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Raise high the song and cheerly wish her;
Still as the bending net we sweep,
‘God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher!’
The geese are gone, the gulls are flying;
The herring shoals swarm thick around,
The nets are launched, the boats are plying.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Raise high the song and cheerly wish her;
Still as the bending net we sweep,
‘God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher!’
She brings us fish—she brings us Spring,
Good times, fair weather, warmth and plenty;
Fine store of shad, trout, herring, ling,
Sheeps-head and drum, and old wives' dainty.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
Still as the bending net we sweep,
‘God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher!’
Good times, fair weather, warmth and plenty;
Fine store of shad, trout, herring, ling,
Sheeps-head and drum, and old wives' dainty.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
Still as the bending net we sweep,
‘God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher!’
She rears her young on yonder tree,
She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em;
Like us, for fish she sails the sea,
And, plunging, shows us where to find 'em.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
While slow the bending net we sweep,
‘God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher!’
She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em;
Like us, for fish she sails the sea,
And, plunging, shows us where to find 'em.
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Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
While slow the bending net we sweep,
‘God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher!’
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |