Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/239
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ON SAILING.
221
Some wretches to their graves.—The tempest-winds
Raving came next, and in deep hollow sounds—
Like those the spirits of the dead do use
When they would speak their evil prophecies—
Muttered of death to come. Then came the thunder,
Deepening and crashing as 'twould rend the world;
Or, as the Deity passed aloft in anger
And spoke to man—despair! The ship was tossed,
And now stood poised upon the curling billows,
And now 'midst deep and watery chasms—that yawned
As 'twere in hunger—sank. Behind there came
Mountains of moving water,—with a rush
And sound of gathering power, that did appal
The heart to look on;—terrible cries were heard—
Some of intemperate, dark, and dissolute joy—
Music and horrid mirth—but unallied
To joy;—and madness might be heard amidst
The pauses of the storm—and when the glare
Was strong, rude savage men were seen to dance
In frantic exultation on the deck,
Though all was hopeless. Hark! the ship has struck,
And the forked lightning seeks the arsenal!—
'Tis fired—and mirth and madness are no more!
'Midst columned smoke, deep red, the fragments fly
In fierce confusion—splinters and scorched limbs,
And burning masts, and showers of gold,—torn from
The heart that hugged it even till death. Thus doth
Sicilian Etna in her angry moods,
Or Hecla, 'mid her wilderness of snows,
Shoot up its burning entrails, with a sound
Louder than e'er the Titans uttered from
Their subterranean caves, when Jove enchained
Them, daring and rebellious. The black skies,
Shocked at the excess of light, returned the sound
In frightful echoes—as if an alarm
Had spread through all the elements: then came
A horrid silence—deep—unnatural—like
The quiet of the grave!
Raving came next, and in deep hollow sounds—
Like those the spirits of the dead do use
When they would speak their evil prophecies—
Muttered of death to come. Then came the thunder,
Deepening and crashing as 'twould rend the world;
Or, as the Deity passed aloft in anger
And spoke to man—despair! The ship was tossed,
And now stood poised upon the curling billows,
And now 'midst deep and watery chasms—that yawned
As 'twere in hunger—sank. Behind there came
Mountains of moving water,—with a rush
And sound of gathering power, that did appal
The heart to look on;—terrible cries were heard—
Some of intemperate, dark, and dissolute joy—
Music and horrid mirth—but unallied
To joy;—and madness might be heard amidst
The pauses of the storm—and when the glare
Was strong, rude savage men were seen to dance
In frantic exultation on the deck,
Though all was hopeless. Hark! the ship has struck,
And the forked lightning seeks the arsenal!—
'Tis fired—and mirth and madness are no more!
'Midst columned smoke, deep red, the fragments fly
In fierce confusion—splinters and scorched limbs,
And burning masts, and showers of gold,—torn from
The heart that hugged it even till death. Thus doth
Sicilian Etna in her angry moods,
Or Hecla, 'mid her wilderness of snows,
Shoot up its burning entrails, with a sound
Louder than e'er the Titans uttered from
Their subterranean caves, when Jove enchained
Them, daring and rebellious. The black skies,
Shocked at the excess of light, returned the sound
In frightful echoes—as if an alarm
Had spread through all the elements: then came
A horrid silence—deep—unnatural—like
The quiet of the grave!
On Sailing
Past Cape Trafalgar in the Night.
Have you sailed on the breast of the deep,
When the winds had all silenced their breath,
And the waters were hushed in as holy a sleep,
And as calm as the slumber of death,
When the winds had all silenced their breath,
And the waters were hushed in as holy a sleep,
And as calm as the slumber of death,