Oliver Newman A New-England Tale (Unfinished): With Other Poetical Remains. By the late Robert Southey |
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| I. | I.
FUNERAL AT SEA. |
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 | Oliver Newman |  |
1
I. FUNERAL AT SEA.
The summer sun is riding high
Amid a bright and cloudless sky;
Beneath whose deep o'er-arching blue
The circle of the Atlantic sea,
Reflecting back a deeper hue,
Is heaving peacefully.
The winds are still, the ship with idle motion
Rocks gently on the gentle ocean;
Loose hang her sails, awaiting when the breeze
Again shall wake to waft her on her way.
Glancing beside, the dolphins, as they play,
Their gorgeous tints suffused with gold display;
And gay bonitos in their beauty glide:
With arrowy speed, in close pursuit,
They through the azure waters shoot;
Amid a bright and cloudless sky;
Beneath whose deep o'er-arching blue
The circle of the Atlantic sea,
Reflecting back a deeper hue,
Is heaving peacefully.
The winds are still, the ship with idle motion
Rocks gently on the gentle ocean;
Loose hang her sails, awaiting when the breeze
Again shall wake to waft her on her way.
Glancing beside, the dolphins, as they play,
Their gorgeous tints suffused with gold display;
And gay bonitos in their beauty glide:
With arrowy speed, in close pursuit,
They through the azure waters shoot;
2
A feebler shoal before them in affright
Spring from the wave, and in short flight,
On wet and plumeless wing essay
The aërial element:
The greedy followers, on the chase intent,
Dart forward still with keen and upturn'd sight,
And, to their proper danger blind the while,
Heed not the sharks, which have for many a day
Hover'd behind the ship, presentient of their prey.
Spring from the wave, and in short flight,
On wet and plumeless wing essay
The aërial element:
The greedy followers, on the chase intent,
Dart forward still with keen and upturn'd sight,
And, to their proper danger blind the while,
Heed not the sharks, which have for many a day
Hover'd behind the ship, presentient of their prey.
So fair a season might persuade
Yon crowd to try the fisher's trade;
Yet from the stern no line is hung,
Nor bait by eager sea-boy flung;
Nor doth the watchful sailor stand
Alert to strike, harpoon in hand.
Upon the deck assembled, old and young,
Bareheaded all in reverence, see them there;
Behold where, hoisted half-mast high,
The English flag hangs mournfully;
And hark! what solemn sounds are these
Heard in the silence of the seas?
Yon crowd to try the fisher's trade;
Yet from the stern no line is hung,
Nor bait by eager sea-boy flung;
Nor doth the watchful sailor stand
Alert to strike, harpoon in hand.
Upon the deck assembled, old and young,
Bareheaded all in reverence, see them there;
Behold where, hoisted half-mast high,
The English flag hangs mournfully;
And hark! what solemn sounds are these
Heard in the silence of the seas?
“Man that is born of woman, short his time,
And full of woe! he springeth like a flower,
Or like the grass, that, green at morning prime,
Is cut and withereth ere the evening hour;
Never doth he continue in one stay,
But like a shadow doth he pass away.”
It was that awful strain, which saith
How in the midst of life we are in death:
“Yet not for ever, O Lord God most High!
Saviour! yet not for ever shall we die!”
And full of woe! he springeth like a flower,
Or like the grass, that, green at morning prime,
Is cut and withereth ere the evening hour;
Never doth he continue in one stay,
But like a shadow doth he pass away.”
It was that awful strain, which saith
How in the midst of life we are in death:
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Saviour! yet not for ever shall we die!”
Ne'er from a voice more eloquent did prayer
Arise, with fervent piety sincere.
To every heart, of all the listening crew,
It made its way, and drew
Even from the hardy seaman's eyes a tear.
“God,” he pursued, “hath taken to himself
The soul of our departed sister dear;
We then commit her body to the deep;”
He paused, and, at the word,
The coffin's plunge was heard.
Arise, with fervent piety sincere.
To every heart, of all the listening crew,
It made its way, and drew
Even from the hardy seaman's eyes a tear.
“God,” he pursued, “hath taken to himself
The soul of our departed sister dear;
We then commit her body to the deep;”
He paused, and, at the word,
The coffin's plunge was heard.
A female voice of anguish then brake forth
With sobs convulsive of a heart opprest.
It was a daughter's agonising cry:
But soon hath she represt
The fit of passionate grief,
And listening patiently,
In that religious effort gain'd relief.
Beside the grey-hair'd captain doth she stand;
One arm is linked in his; the other hand
Hid with the handkerchief her face, and prest
Her eyes, whence burning tears continuous flow.
Down hung her head upon her breast,
And thus the maiden stood in silent woe.
With sobs convulsive of a heart opprest.
It was a daughter's agonising cry:
But soon hath she represt
The fit of passionate grief,
And listening patiently,
In that religious effort gain'd relief.
Beside the grey-hair'd captain doth she stand;
One arm is linked in his; the other hand
Hid with the handkerchief her face, and prest
Her eyes, whence burning tears continuous flow.
Down hung her head upon her breast,
And thus the maiden stood in silent woe.
Again was heard the preacher's earnest voice:
It bade the righteous in their faith rejoice,
Their sure and certain hope in Christ; for blest
In Him are they, who from their labours rest.
It rose into a high thanksgiving strain,
And praised the Lord, who from a world of pain
Had now been pleased to set his servant free;
Hasten thy kingdom, Lord, that all may rest in thee!
It bade the righteous in their faith rejoice,
Their sure and certain hope in Christ; for blest
In Him are they, who from their labours rest.
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And praised the Lord, who from a world of pain
Had now been pleased to set his servant free;
Hasten thy kingdom, Lord, that all may rest in thee!
In manhood's fairest prime was he who pray'd,
Even in the flower and beauty of his youth.
These holy words and fervent tones portray'd
The feelings of his inmost soul sincere;
For scarce two months had fill'd their short career
Since from the grave of her who gave him birth
That sound had struck upon his ear;
When to the doleful words of “Earth to earth”
Its dead response the senseless coffin gave:—
Oh! who can e'er forget that echo of the grave!
Even in the flower and beauty of his youth.
These holy words and fervent tones portray'd
The feelings of his inmost soul sincere;
For scarce two months had fill'd their short career
Since from the grave of her who gave him birth
That sound had struck upon his ear;
When to the doleful words of “Earth to earth”
Its dead response the senseless coffin gave:—
Oh! who can e'er forget that echo of the grave!
Now in the grace of God dismiss'd,
They separate as they may,
To narrow limits of the ship confined:
Nor did the impression lightly pass away,
Even from the unreflecting sailor's mind.
They pitied that sweet maiden, all bereft,
Alone on shipboard among strangers left.
They spake of that young preacher, day by day
How while the fever held its fatal course,
He minister'd at the patient sufferer's side,
Holding of faith and hope his high discourse;
And how, when all had join'd in humble prayer,
She solemnly confided to his care,
Till to her father's hands she could be given,
Her child forlorn,—and blest him ere she died.
They call'd to mind, how peaceful, how serene,
Like one who seem'd already half in heaven,
After that act she yielded up her breath;
And sure they wish'd their end like her's, I ween,
And for a comforter like him in death.
They separate as they may,
To narrow limits of the ship confined:
Nor did the impression lightly pass away,
Even from the unreflecting sailor's mind.
They pitied that sweet maiden, all bereft,
Alone on shipboard among strangers left.
They spake of that young preacher, day by day
How while the fever held its fatal course,
He minister'd at the patient sufferer's side,
Holding of faith and hope his high discourse;
And how, when all had join'd in humble prayer,
She solemnly confided to his care,
Till to her father's hands she could be given,
Her child forlorn,—and blest him ere she died.
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Like one who seem'd already half in heaven,
After that act she yielded up her breath;
And sure they wish'd their end like her's, I ween,
And for a comforter like him in death.
| Oliver Newman | |