Part 25 (2/2)

MY THOUGHTS OF YE.

_(”a quoi je songe?”)_

[XXIII., July, 1836.]

What do I dream of? Far from the low roof, Where now ye are, children, I dream of you; Of your young heads that are the hope and crown Of my full summer, ripening to its fall.

Branches whose shadow grows along my wall, Sweet souls scarce open to the breath of day, Still dazzled with the brightness of your dawn.

I dream of those two little ones at play, Making the threshold vocal with their cries, Half tears, half laughter, mingled sport and strife, Like two flowers knocked together by the wind.

Or of the elder two--more anxious thought-- Breasting already broader waves of life, A conscious innocence on either face, My pensive daughter and my curious boy.

Thus do I dream, while the light sailors sing, At even moored beneath some steepy sh.o.r.e, While the waves opening all their nostrils breathe A thousand sea-scents to the wandering wind, And the whole air is full of wondrous sounds, From sea to strand, from land to sea, given back Alone and sad, thus do I dream of you.

Children, and house and home, the table set, The glowing hearth, and all the pious care Of tender mother, and of grandsire kind; And while before me, spotted with white sails, The limpid ocean mirrors all the stars, And while the pilot, from the infinite main, Looks with calm eye into the infinite heaven, I dreaming of you only, seek to scan And fathom all my soul's deep love for you-- Love sweet, and powerful, and everlasting-- And find that the great sea is small beside it.

_Dublin University Magazine._

THE BEACON IN THE STORM.

_(”Quels sont ces bruits sourds?”)_

[XXIV., July 17, 1836.]

Hark to that solemn sound!

It steals towards the strand.-- Whose is that voice profound Which mourns the swallowed land, With moans, Or groans, New threats of ruin close at hand?

It is Triton--the storm to scorn Who doth wind his sonorous horn.

How thick the rain to-night!

And all along the coast The sky shows naught of light Is it a storm, my host?

Too soon The boon Of pleasant weather will be lost Yes, 'tis Triton, etc.

Are seamen on that speck Afar in deepening dark?

Is that a splitting deck Of some ill-fated bark?

Fend harm!

Send calm!

O Venus! show thy starry spark!

Though 'tis Triton, etc.

The thousand-toothed gale,-- Adventurers too bold!-- Rips up your toughest sail And tears your anchor-hold.

You forge Through surge, To be in rending breakers rolled.

While old Triton, etc.

Do sailors stare this way, Cramped on the Needle's sheaf, To hail the sudden ray Which promises relief?

Then, bright; s.h.i.+ne, light!

Of hope upon the beacon reef!

Though 'tis Triton, etc.

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