 | Redwald |  |
57
To the Sea.
Oh wide expanse, so awful and sublime!
I gaze with wrapt and melancholy eye,
As 'midst the silent gloom of lonely eve,
I mark thy billows slowly rolling by.
I gaze with wrapt and melancholy eye,
As 'midst the silent gloom of lonely eve,
I mark thy billows slowly rolling by.
That swelling wave, which wet my ling'ring feet,
Has haply pass'd o'er many a woeful scene—
Has wash'd, perhaps, the dismal wreck'd remains
Of some tall bark that grac'd thy surface green!
Has haply pass'd o'er many a woeful scene—
Has wash'd, perhaps, the dismal wreck'd remains
Of some tall bark that grac'd thy surface green!
Has heedless pass'd where desp'rate shrieks arose,
Where sinking beings stretch'd their hands in vain;
Or stopp'd its course awhile, and swelling high,
Dash'd o'er their forms, and onward rush'd again!
Where sinking beings stretch'd their hands in vain;
Or stopp'd its course awhile, and swelling high,
Dash'd o'er their forms, and onward rush'd again!
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Beneath its dreadful force perhaps there fell
The only hope of friends, far—far away!
There, with them sunk, beneath its direful swell
The last sad glimpse of fleeting pleasure's ray.
The only hope of friends, far—far away!
There, with them sunk, beneath its direful swell
The last sad glimpse of fleeting pleasure's ray.
One tender form is present to my view,
Which vainly struggles 'midst the rushing tide,
Then fades from sight, where waves on waves pursue,
And bids the deep the dismal story hide!
Which vainly struggles 'midst the rushing tide,
Then fades from sight, where waves on waves pursue,
And bids the deep the dismal story hide!
Could not a mother's and a sister's sighs
Join with the wind, and waft thee to the shore?
Could not a helpless, orphan, brother's cries
Melt the hard fates, and thou return once more!
Join with the wind, and waft thee to the shore?
Could not a helpless, orphan, brother's cries
Melt the hard fates, and thou return once more!
No! thou art lost—nor those sad rites allow'd
To weep beside thy flow'r-strewn, mournful, grave,
For where the billows sweep with moaning loud,
Thy bones are whit'ning low in Ocean's cave!
To weep beside thy flow'r-strewn, mournful, grave,
For where the billows sweep with moaning loud,
Thy bones are whit'ning low in Ocean's cave!
Tho' stormy sea, thou bidd'st these thoughts arise,
Yet will I linger by thy rocky side:
Whilst to his wat'ry bier my fancy flies,
And views his tomb, altho' on earth deny'd!
Yet will I linger by thy rocky side:
Whilst to his wat'ry bier my fancy flies,
And views his tomb, altho' on earth deny'd!
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