Part 1 (1/2)
The Isle of Palms.
by John Wilson.
CANTO FIRST.
It is the midnight hour:--the beauteous Sea, Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloses, While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee, Far down within the watery sky reposes.
As if the Ocean's heart were stirr'd With inward life, a sound is heard, Like that of dreamer murmuring in his sleep; 'Tis partly the billow, and partly the air, That lies like a garment floating fair Above the happy Deep.
The sea, I ween, cannot be fann'd By evening freshness from the land, For the land it is far away; But G.o.d hath will'd that the sky-born breeze In the centre of the loneliest seas Should ever sport and play.
The mighty Moon she sits above, Encircled with a zone of love, A zone of dim and tender light That makes her wakeful eye more bright: She seems to s.h.i.+ne with a sunny ray, And the night looks like a mellow'd day!
The gracious Mistress of the Main Hath now an undisturbed reign, And from her silent throne looks down, As upon children of her own, On the waves that lend their gentle breast In gladness for her couch of rest!
My spirit sleeps amid the calm The sleep of a new delight; And hopes that she ne'er may awake again, But for ever hang o'er the lovely main, And adore the lovely night.
Scarce conscious of an earthly frame, She glides away like a lambent flame, And in her bliss she sings; Now touching softly the Ocean's breast, Now mid the stars she lies at rest, As if she sail'd on wings!
Now bold as the brightest star that glows More brightly since at first it rose, Looks down on the far-off flood, And there all breathless and alone, As the sky where she soars were a world of her own, She mocketh the gentle Mighty One As he lies in his quiet mood.
”Art thou,” she breathes, ”the Tyrant grim That scoffs at human prayers, Answering with prouder roaring the while, As it rises from some lonely isle, Through groans raised wild, the hopeless hymn Of s.h.i.+pwreck'd mariners?
Oh! Thou art harmless as a child Weary with joy, and reconciled For sleep to change its play; And now that night hath stay'd thy race, Smiles wander o'er thy placid face As if thy dreams were gay.”--
And can it be that for me alone The Main and Heavens are spread?
Oh! whither, in this holy hour, Have those fair creatures fled, To whom the ocean-plains are given As clouds possess their native heaven?
The tiniest boat, that ever sail'd Upon an inland lake, Might through this sea without a fear Her silent journey take, Though the helmsman slept as if on land, And the oar had dropp'd from the rower's hand.
How like a monarch would she glide, While the husht billow kiss'd her side With low and lulling tone, Some stately s.h.i.+p, that from afar Shone sudden, like a rising star, With all her bravery on!
List! how in murmurs of delight The blessed airs of Heaven invite The joyous bark to pa.s.s one night Within their still domain!
O grief! that yonder gentle Moon, Whose smiles for ever fade so soon, Should waste such smiles in vain.
Haste! haste! before the moons.h.i.+ne dies, Dissolved amid the morning skies, While yet the silvery glory lies Above the sparkling foam; Bright mid surrounding brightness, Thou, Scattering fresh beauty from thy prow, In pomp and splendour come!
And lo! upon the murmuring waves A glorious Shape appearing!
A broad-wing'd Vessel, through the shower Of glimmering l.u.s.tre steering!
As if the beauteous s.h.i.+p enjoy'd The beauty of the sea, She lifteth up her stately head And saileth joyfully.
A lovely path before her lies, A lovely path behind; She sails amid the loveliness Like a thing with heart and mind.
Fit pilgrim through a scene so fair, Slowly she beareth on; A glorious phantom of the deep, Risen up to meet the Moon.
The Moon bids her tenderest radiance fall On her wavy streamer and snow-white wings, And the quiet voice of the rocking sea To cheer the gliding vision sings.
Oh! ne'er did sky and water blend In such a holy sleep, Or bathe in brighter quietude A roamer of the deep.
So far the peaceful soul of Heaven Hath settled on the sea, It seems as if this weight of calm Were from eternity.
O World of Waters! the stedfast earth Ne er lay entranced like Thee!
Is she a vision wild and bright, That sails amid the still moon-light At the dreaming soul's command?
A vessel borne by magic gales, All rigg'd with gossamery sails, And bound for Fairy-land?
Ah! no!--an earthly freight she bears, Of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears; And lonely as she seems to be, Thus left by herself on the moonlight sea In loneliness that rolls, She hath a constant company, In sleep, or waking revelry, Five hundred human souls!
Since first she sail'd from fair England, Three moons her path have cheer'd; And another stands right over her masts Since the Cape hath disappear'd.
For an Indian Isle she shapes her way With constant mind both night and day: She seems to hold her home in view, And sails, as if the path she knew; So calm and stately is her motion Across th' unfathom'd trackless ocean.
And well, glad Vessel! mayst thou stem The tide with lofty breast, And lift thy queen-like diadem O'er these thy realms of rest: For a thousand beings, now far away, Behold thee in their sleep, And hush their beating hearts to pray That a calm may clothe the deep.
When dimly descending behind the sea From the Mountain Isle of Liberty, Oh! many a sigh pursued thy vanish'd sail; And oft an eager crowd will stand With straining gaze on the Indian strand, Thy wonted gleam to hail.
For thou art laden with Beauty and Youth, With Honour bold, and spotless Truth, With fathers, who have left in a home of rest Their infants smiling at the breast, With children, who have bade their parents farewell, Or who go to the land where their parents dwell.
G.o.d speed thy course, thou gleam of delight!
From rock and tempest clear; Till signal gun from friendly height Proclaim, with thundering cheer, To joyful groupes on the harbour bright, That the good s.h.i.+p HOPE is near!
Is no one on the silent deck Save the helmsman who sings for a breeze, And the sailors who pace their midnight watch, Still as the slumbering seas?
Yes! side by side, and hand in hand, Close to the prow two figures stand, Their shadows never stir, And fondly as the Moon doth rest Upon the Ocean's gentle breast, So fond they look on her.
They gaze and gaze till the beauteous...o...b..Seems made for them alone: They feel as if their home were Heaven, And the earth a dream that hath flown.