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Each tall and tapering mast
The great sun rises to behold the sight. rule; but the reader will see by the following extract of a letter from a friend in Portland, Maine, that it is neither a blunder nor a poetic licence.
“In this state, and also, I am told, in New York, ships are sometimes rigged upon the stocks, in order to save time, or to make a show. There was a line large ship launched last summer at Ellsworth, fully rigged and sparred. Some years ago a ship was launched here, with her rigging, spars, sails, and cargo aboard. She sailed the next day, and—was never heard of again! I hope this will not be the fate of your poem!".
The ocean old,
The will from its moorings and its course. Therefore he spake, and thus said he:“Like unto ships far off at sea, Outward or homeward bound, are we. Before, behind, and all around, Floats and swings the horizon's bound, Seems at its distant rim to rise And climb the crystal wall of the skies, And then again to turn and sink, As if we could slide from its outer brink. Ah! it is not the sea, It is not the sea that sinks and shelves, But ourselves That rock and rise With endless and uneasy motion, Now touching the very skies, Now sinking into the depths of ocean. Ah! if our souls but poise and swing Like the compass in its brazen ring, Ever level and ever true To the toil and the task we have to do, We shall sail securely, and safely reach The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach The sights we see, and the sounds we hear, Will be those of joy and not of fear!" Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see! she stirs ! She starts,-she moves,—she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms ! And lo! from the assembled crowd There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, That to the ocean seemed to say,“Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray, Take her to thy protecting arms, With all her youth and all her charms !" How beautiful she is! How fair She lies within those arms, that press
Her form within many a soft caress
THE EVENING STAR.
Just above yon sandy bar,
As the day grows fainter and dimmer, Lonely and lovely, a single star
Lights the air with a dusky glimmer. Into the ocean faint and far
Falls the trail of its golden splendour, And the gleam of that single star
Is ever refulgent, soft, and tender.
Chrysaor rising out of the sea,
Showed thus glorious and thus emulous, Leaving the arms of Callirrhoe,
For ever tender, soft, and tremulous. Thus o'er the ocean faint and far
Trailed the gleam of his falchion brightly: Is it a God, or is it a star
That, entranced, I gaze on nightly!
THE SECRET OF THE SEA.
AH! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea ! All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams come back to me. Sails of silk and ropes of sendal,
Such as gleam in ancient lore; And the singing of the sailors,
And the answer from the shore ! Most of all, the Spanish ballad
Haunts me oft, and tarries long, “Of the noble Count Arnaldos
And the sailor's mystic song. Like the long waves on a sea-beach,
Where the sand as silver shines, With a soft, monotonous cadence,
Flow its unrhymed lyric lines ;Telling how the Count Arnaldos,
With his hawk upon his hand, Saw a fair and stately galley,
Steering onward to the land ;How he heard the ancient helmsman
Chant a song so wild and clear, That the sailing sea-bird slowly
Poised upon the mast to hear, Till his soul was full of longing,
And he cried, with impulse strong, — “Helmsman! for the love of heaven,
Teach me, too, that wondrous song!” “Wouldst thou,”- ---so the helmsman answered,
Learn the secret of the sea ? Only those who brave its dangers
Comprehend its mystery!”