And the waters were hush'd in as holy a sleep, And dying away by degrees on the sight, 'Twould impart a delight to thy soul, As I felt it imparted to mine, And the draught of affliction that blacken'd my bowl Grew bright as the silvery brine; I carelessly lay on the deck, And listen'd in silence to catch The wonderful stories of battle or wreck, Sad stories of demons most deadly that be, And of mermaids that rose from the depths of the sea. Strange visions my fancy had fill'd, I was wet with the dews of the night; And I thought that the moon still continued to gild The wave with a silvery light. I sunk by degrees into sleep, I thought of my friends who were far, When a form seem'd to glide o'er the face of the deep, As bright as the evening star: Ne'er rose there a spirit more lovely and fair, Yet I trembled to think that a spirit was there, Emerald green was her hair, Braided with gems of the sea, Her arm, like a meteor, she wav'd in the air, How ineffably bright was their blaze! I shrunk, and I trembl'd, with fear and surprise, But enchantingly sweet was the smile of her lip, 'Mid the waves of the ocean I fell, And we sunk to the caves where the sea-lions rove, Where the diamond and sapphire eternally shed And well might their lustre be bright, For they shone on the limbs of the brave, Of those who had fought in the terrible fight, And were buried at last in the wave; In grottoes of coral they slept, On white beds of pearl around, And near them for ever the water-snake crept, And the sea-lion guarded the ground; While the dirge of the heroes by spirits was rung, And solemn and wild were the strains that they sung. DIRGE. Sweet is the slumber the mariners sleep, But the loud wind past, When they breathed their last, And it carried their dying sigh: In a winding-sheet, With a shot at their feet, In coral caves they lie, In coral caves they lie. Or where the syren of the rocks, Found they an eternal home! Horrid and long were the struggles of death, Distant far beneath the waves, And there on beds of pearl they sleep, And far o'er their heads the tempests sweep, That ne'er shall wake them more, That ne'er shall wake them more. CCXLIX. TIS SWEET, WHEN IN THE GLOWING WEST *. 'Tis sweet, when in the glowing west The sun's bright wheels their course are leaving, To watch the dark wave slowly heaving. * This beautiful Canzonette is the composition of the late John Bowler jun, Esq. And oh! at glimpse of early morn, And it is sweet, at mid-day hour, To hear the driving tempests pour, 'Tis sweet, where nodding rocks around The night-shade dark is wildly wreathing, To listen to some solemn sound, Froin harp or lyre divinely breathing. And sweeter yet the genuine glow Of youthful friendship's high devotion, Responsive to the voice of woe, When heaves the heart with strong emotion. And youth is sweet with many a joy, That frolic by in artless measure; And age is sweet, with less alloy, In tranquil thought and silent pleasure. For He who gave the life we share, With every charm His gift adorning, Bade Eve her pearly dew-drops wear, And dress'd in smiles the blush of morning. k k |