Where the pale sea-grape had overgrown The glorious dwellings made for them.

At night, upon my storm-drenched wing,
I poised above a helmless bark,
And soon I saw the shattered thing
Had passed away and left no mark.

And when the wind and storm had done,
A ship, that had rode out the gale,
Sunk down, without a signal gun,
And none was left to tell the tale.

I saw the pomp of day depart

The cloud resign its golden crown, When to the ocean's beating heart

The sailor's wasted corse went down.

Peace be to those whose graves are made Beneath the bright and silver Sea! Peace that their relics there were laid,

With no vain pride and pageantry.

LONGFELLOW.

TO THE NAUTILUS.

WHERE Ausonian summers glowing
Warm the deep to life and joyance,

101

TO THE NAUTILUS.

And gentle zephyrs, nimbly blowing,
Wanton with the waves that, flowing
By many a land of ancient glory,
And many an isle renowned in story,
Leap along with gladsome buoyance,
There marinere,

Dost thou appear,

In fairy pinnace gaily flashing,

Through the white foam proudly dashing,
The joyous playmate of the buxom breeze,
And fearless fondling of the mighty seas.

Thou the light sail boldly spreadest,
O'er the furrowed waters gliding,
Thou nor wreck, nor foeman dreadest,
Thou nor helm, nor compass needest,
While the sun is bright above thee,
While the bounding surges love thee,
In their deepening bosoms hiding,
Thou canst not fear,

Small marinere,

For though the tides with restless motion,
Bear thee to the desert ocean,

Far as the ocean stretches to the sky,
"Tis all thine own, 'tis all thy empery.

Lame is art, and her endeavour
Follows nature's course but slowly,

Guessing, toiling, seeking ever,
Still improving, perfect never;
Little Nautilus, thou showest
Deeper wisdom than thou knowest,
Love which man should study lowly :
Bold faith and cheer,

Small marinere,

Are thine within thy pearly dwelling,—
Thine, a law of life compelling,

Obedience, perfect, simple, glad, and free,
To the great will that animates the sea.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

INVOCATION TO THE ECHO OF A SEA-SHELL.

VOICE of the deep, illimitable Sea!

Discarded offspring of the wind and wave!
Who, like a captive struggling to be free,
Thus ever moan'st in thy mysterious cave,—
Art thou a syren, by some sea-god's spell
Prisoned in this smooth shell?

Or but a spirit of the "vasty deep,"

Called up to earth by some enchanter's wand ?— Whose was the charm that broke thy long, cold sleep,

And brought thee murmuring from thy parent

sand?

INVOCATION TO THE ECHO OF A SEA-SHELL. 103

How wert thou ushered to the realms of day,
Syren, or spirit, say?

Yet more I would know more! I burn to pierce The hidden secrets of thy ocean home:

Where the victims of its surges fierce

Who dreamt of calms, and wakened 'mid its foam;

The souls that perished 'neath the stormy wave, When none were nigh to save?

Where are the stately ship, and gallant crew,
Whose hapless fate is sealed to all beside—
The warrior bold a fear that never knew—

The love-linked pair whom death could not divide;

(For thou hast seen them in their last embrace, Calm, sleeping face to face?)

Fond hearts and true-the beautiful and brave,Childhood's bright hair—the veteran's locks of

grey

Foemen and friends, sink down to one wide grave, And none are spared to tell us where they lay. Where are the lost and loved so many seek? Speak, I conjure thee, speak!

How dost thou answer?-With a low, sweet dirgeSad as the booming of the sullen main,

The far-off warnings of the restless surge,

When storms are growing into strength again! Perchance a requiem for the glorious deadYouth, beauty, valour fled.

Whate'er thy source and purpose, I rejoice
To list thy mystic murmurings, soft and clear;
To me thou seemest like a still, small voice,
By conscience whispered in my world-vexed ear,
To lead my soul from grovelling things of earth
To hopes of loftier birth!

ALARIC A. WATTS.

ST ELMO'S FIRE AND WATER-SPOUT.

DISTINCTLY I have seen the vivid Light
Which seamen e'er as sacred venerate,

In times of furious storms and baffling winds,
And tempests, drowning accents of despair.
Nor was it less a miracle to all-

A sight stupendous to behold the clouds
Forming upon the sea a wondrous tube,
Upwards through which its copious waters rushed.
Myself can personally testify-

And sure I am my sight deceived me not—
That I beheld, like curling smoke, arise
A slender vapour, whirling with the wind.
Thence grew a tube ascending to the skies,