SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT. His sails of white sea-mist Dripped with silver rain; But where he passed there were cast Leaden shadows o'er the main. Eastward from Campobello Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed; Three days or more seaward he bore, Then, alas! the land-wind failed. Alas! the land-wind failed, And ice-cold grew the night; And never more, on sea or shore, Should Sir Humphrey see the light. He sat upon the deck, The Book was in his hand; "Do not fear! Heaven is as near," He said, "by water as by land!” In the first watch of the night, Out of the sea, mysteriously, The fleet of Death rose all around. The moon and the evening star Were hanging in the shrouds; Every mast, as it passed, Seemed to rake the passing clouds. They grappled with their prize, As of a rock was the shock ; Southward through day and dark, They drift in close embrace, With mist and rain, to the Spanish Main; Southward, for ever southward, They drift through dark and day; NOTE. (1.) "When the wind abated and the vessels were near enough, the Admiral was seen constantly sitting in the stern, with a book in his hand. On the 9th of September he was seen for the last time, and was heard by the people of the Hind to say, 'We are as near heaven by sea as by land.' In the following night, the lights of the ship suddenly disappeared. The people in the other vessel kept a good look-out for him during the remainder of the voyage. On the 22d of September they arrived, through much tempest and peril, at Falmouth. But nothing more was seen or heard of the Admiral."BELKNAP'S American Biography, i. 203. THE rocky ledge runs far into the sea, 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 splendor in its glare! Not one alone; from each projecting cape Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. Like the great giant Christopher it stands And the great ships sail outward and return, 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! THE LIGHTHOUSE. 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 Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din Dashes himself against the glare, and dies. A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock, "Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships! |