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THE SOUND OF THE SEA.
Thou art sounding on, thou mighty sea,
For ever and the same !
Whose thunders nought can tame.
Oh! many a glorious voice is gone,
From the rich bowers of earth, And hush'd is many a lovely one
Of mournfulness or mirth.
The Dorian flute that sigh'd of yore
Along thy wave, is still ;
On Zion's awful hill.
And Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord
That breathed the mystic tone, And the songs, at Rome's high triumphs pour'd,
Are with her eagles flown.
And mute the Moorish horn, that rang
O'er stream and mountain free,
Hath died in Galilee.
But thou art swelling on, thou deep,
Through many an olden clime, Thy billowy anthem, ne'er to sleep
Until the close of time.
'Thou liftest up thy solemn voice
wind and sky,
In that one harmony.
It fills the noontide's calm profound,
The sunset's heaven of gold;
Ev'n as when first it roll’d.
Let there be silence, deep and strange,
Where sceptred cities rose ! Thou speak’st of one who doth not change
-So may our hearts repose.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled ;
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm ;
A proud, though child-like form.
The flames rollid on-he would not go,
Without his father's word;
His voice no longer heard.
He call'd aloud—“Say, father, say
If yet my task is done ? "
Unconscious of his son.
* Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the battle of the Nile), after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned ; and perished in the explosion of the vessel; when the flames had reached the powder.
as Speak, Father!” once again he cried,
“ If I may yet be gone !" -And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll’d on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair ;
In still, yet brave despair.
And shouted but once more aloud,
“My father! must I stay ?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendor wild,
They caught the flag on high, And stream'd above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound
The boy-oh! where was he? -Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strew'd the sea !
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part-
Was that young faithful heart
THE ADOPTED CHILD.
“Why wouldst thou leave me, oh! gentle child ?
“Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play,
“ Content thee, boy ! in my bower to dwell,