THE SHIP IS READY.
FARE thee well! the ship is ready,
And the breeze is fresh and steady.
Hands are fast the anchor weighing;
High in air the streamer's playing.
Spread the sails-the waves are swelling
Proudly round thy buoyant dwelling
Fare thee well! and when at sea,
Think of those who sigh for thee.
When the lonely night-watch keeping,
All below thee still and sleeping,-
As the needle points the quarter
O'er the wide and trackless water,
Let thy vigils ever find thee
Mindful of the friends behind thee;
Let thy bosom's magnet be
Turn'd to those who wake for thee!
When with slow and gentle motion
Heaves the bosom of the ocean,-
While in peace thy bark is riding,
And the silver moon is gliding
O'er the sky with tranquil splendour,
Where the shining hosts attend her:
Let the brightest visions be
Country, home, and friends, to thee!
When the tempest hovers o'er thee,
Danger, wreck, and death before thee,
While the sword of fire is gleaming,
Wild the winds, the torrent streaming,
Then a pious suppliant bending,
Let thy thoughts, to heaven ascending,
Reach the mercy-seat, to be
Met by prayers that rise for thee.
THE rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.
Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
In the white lip and tremor of the face.
And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
Through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,
With strange unearthly splendour in its glare!
Not one alone; from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.
Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.
And the great ships sail outward and return,
Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn,
They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.
They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils,
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.
The mariner remembers when a child,
On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink;
And when, returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.
Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year, through all the silent night,
Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!
It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.
The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.
"Sail on!" it says, " sail on, ye stately ships!
And with your floating bridge the ocean span ;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,
Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!"
Longfellow.
THE STORMY PETREL.
A THOUSAND miles from land are we
Tossing about on the roaring sea;
From billow to bounding billow cast,
Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast:
The sails are scatter'd about like weeds,
The strong masts shake like quivering reeds;
The mighty cables and iron chains,
The hull, which all earthly strength disdains,-
They strain and they crack; and hearts of stone,
Their natural hard, proud strength disown.
Up and down! up and down!
From the base of the wave to the billow's crown, Amidst the flashing and feathery foam,
The stormy petrel finds a home;
A home, if such a place can be
For her who lives on the wide wide sea,
On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,
And only seeking her rocky lair
To warn her young, and teach them to spring
At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing!
O'er the deep! o'er the deep!
Where the whale, and the shark, and the swordfish sleep!
Outflying the blast and the driving rain,
The petrel telleth her tale in vain:
For the mariner curseth the warning bird,
Who bringeth him news of the storm unheard:
Ah! thus does the prophet of good or ill
Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still;
Yet, he never falters ;-so, petrel! spring
Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing.
THE OLD ABBEY.
It is a sweet and hallow'd place
This ancient ruin'd pile,
Where flowers in Nature's untaught grace
The shatter'd pillars interlace,
And midst desertion smile.
The aged trees spread far and wide
Their patriarchal shade;
But lonely is their sylvan pride,
With broken roofless walls beside,
That mock the verdant glade.
And Melancholy reigns supreme
Within those cloisters gray,
That, wreck'd, remain to wake a theme
For fancy and the poet's dream,
Of ages pass'd away,-
Of days when learning nourish'd there
The seeds of bounteous good;
When men in penitential prayer
Sought refuge from the shoals of care
In this green solitude.
The monarch, trembling on his throne
For some unhallow'd deed,
Came hither to these precincts lone,
The vaunt, the pride of greatness gone,
The pious monks to heed.
The knight, remorseful or from shame,
Would change for priestly cowl
The trophies of his hard-won fame,
And honours of a lofty name,
To save his sinful soul.
And grateful was its rest to those
Whose hearts were sorrow-riven;
For, midst the convent's calm repose
Their eve of life would sweetly close
In trustful hope of heaven.
And here the poor man found a friend
When crush'd by tyranny,
For sin would blush, and brows unbend
And vice would shrink, nor dare offend
The abbey's sanctity.
Then peace be to thee, ruin'd pile;
No spoliating hand
Shall linger where fair Nature's smile
Protects its crumbling walls awhile,
To beautify the land.
THE VALLEY.
CHARMING little valley,
Smiling all so gaily,
Like an angel's brow;
Spreading out thy treasures,
Calling us to pleasures,
Innocent as thou.
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