O! 'tis a proud and gallant show Of bright and broad-spread wings, Flinging a glory round them, as they keep Their course right onward thro' the unsounded deep. "And where the far-off sand-bars lift Their backs in long and narrow line, Into the air: then rush to mimic strife:- How all seems life!" Who that has read Mr. Dana's Poem of "The Buccaneer," from which these two stanzas are taken, and then visited a sea-beach, has not remembered it, and thanked the Poet for it? Its descriptions are admirably vivid and striking, more wild and imaginative than the sketches of sea-shore scenery from the accurate pencil of Crabbe. This beach at Rockaway is wild and lonely, a good place for Matthew Lee to ride with his spectre-horse, and out-run the racing surf, and see the ship on fire, and the moon, and the mists. But there are no dripping rocks for Matthew Lee to climb upon. "In thick dark nights he'd take his seat High up the cliffs, and feel them shake, Below-and hear it break With savage roar, then pause and gather strength, The sea sometimes rages as well as roars, even when it is not stormy at Rockaway. We have had charming weather, but a strong south wind has blown the sea into such furious breakers on the beach, and they hurry and race one after the other with such impetuous strife, and high tide of commotion, that it is almost like a tempest. Each wave behind seems flying to devour and swallow up the one preceding it. In they come, with such a rush, tumble and confusion, as makes the white yeasty waters boil and foam as if the tail of Leviathan had stirred them. This is a capital surf to bathe in. You should have a life preserver or swimming belt, and then you may go far out, and enjoy it fully. You ride upon the great crested waves like a sea-gull, and they swing you about, or send you dancing in upon the beach, or burst over you like a cataract, and still you rise, as if with elastic rebound they were tossing you into the air, instead of seeking to smother you. It is fine invigorating sport. And there is probably something in the beat of the briny surf, as it strikes upon you, that aids the ordinary bracing action of a salt water bath. Then, too, the exercise of swimming is so admirable! Three times a day we have followed it up, till a keg of pickled beef was scarcely ever better salted. Besides, the air itself has been so saturated with salt moisture in the prevalence of this fresh south breeze, that our clothes have almost gotten stiff with salt; a little more, and we should be fine specimens of incrustations. But the perfection of beauty and enjoyment in this scene, and in the bathing, also, is by moonlight. How beautiful the ocean, with the white-crested tops of the waves rolling in upon the beach beneath the full moon, the smooth sand glittering like a steel or silver floor, the shells themselves and the wave-worn stones shining like silver pebbles in mosaic, with the creamy foam of the sea sparkling over them, and the melancholy little beach-birds running among them! In the direction of the moon, the sea almost blazes with her lines of silvery light, while in the other quarter of the horizon it looks black and terrible. There in the distance, far over the dark waves, you see the two red lights that on the Jersey shore instruct and warn the mariner. One of these lights is fixed, the other is revolving; emblems, you may think, of the difference between the immutability of religious truth in the word of God, and in changing human experience. See! you never lose sight of one; there it shines, with a steady, changeless lustre. But the other disappears. Now it is gone, now it shines again. They look alike, when you see them together, but the one is revolving and partial, the other is stationary and perpetual. NATURE IN A TROPICAL VOYAGE AT SEA. WHEN you come to the news of a trial that had been waiting for you, while in ignorance of it you had been going on in an easy if not happy mood, in the enjoyment of God's mercies, you seem to yourself to have done wrong in not being afflicted beforehand. This is especially the case, if you find that God's hand has been laid in affliction on those dear to you. So there seems something inconsistent in your having a delightful voyage, when even before it commenced God had clothed you in unconscious mourning. Nevertheless, this makes no difference in his mercy. We had indeed a delightful voyage, and I mention it, to suggest the same voyage to those who, returning from Europe in the autumn, may dread the roughness of a northern passage, and the cold and perils of our coast in that season. In a few days from our leaving Havre, we found ourselves in a mild and balmy atmosphere, in delicious weather, in smooth seas, under the influence of a wind so prosperous and invariable that sometimes a ship may run before it for weeks without changing a sail. You can scarcely conceive anything connected with the sea, more delightful than crossing the ocean in this manner. Evening after evening the day closed with such magnificent sunsets, as only at sea between the tropics you can ever witness, and morning after morning the dawn broke, and the sun rose, with a beauty and a glory, which to see but once would be worth a voyage to Europe, if you could see it in no other way. In all this lovely weather we had a lovely moon, and we watched her course from the pale silver thread that at first scarcely outshone the star that sailed with her in the heavens, to the splendor of her fulness; and what can be more beautiful than the full moon in a summer latitude at sea? What more beautiful than such a moon rising from the sea amidst lovely sailing clouds into the deep heaven, and creating that long, tremulous line of light between the ship and the horizon, in which the waves roll like liquid gold? And what more beautiful than to witness, in a calm summer's night, a total eclipse of such a moon riding in mid heaven? And then, again, what more beautiful than to watch the moon and stars contending in their lustre with the breaking dawn and lost so gradually and softly in the advancing splendor of the sunrise? The phenomenon of the eclipse we witnessed about the middle of our passage; it was indescribably beautiful, and as solemn as beautiful, to see the veil drawn over the face of the planet as by the hand of God, to see the stars come out, and darkness settle over the waste of waters, and then again the veil slowly withdrawn, the stars hidden, and a mild, pale lustre diffused upon the bosom of the deep. And we, the watchers in this solitary ship, marking this solemn scene, shall it not make us feel how easily God can veil our life in darkness-can put, if he pleases, the light of our eyes far from us? When He giveth quietness, who then can make trouble? and when He hideth his face, who then can behold him? whether it be done against a nation, or against a man only? The hiding of God's face! If men saw and felt it as clearly as they see the darkening of the heavenly bodies in an eclipse, what grief and consternation would it spread over the world! But men care little for the darkness, who have never seen or known the light. And this, alas, is the case with most men in reference to God. It was near the middle of December when we arrived amidst the Bahama islands and banks, the weather still continuing delightful, and the wind fair. The passage across the banks is sometimes not unattended with danger, and it may well make a seafaring man anxious, when his vessel passes suddenly from deep water into the midst of a shoal where the ship's keel is but a foot or two from the bottom. All the way across the banks you hear the deep, melancholy voice of the leadsman, as he heaves the line and announces the fathoms deep, and all the way you can see the dark sponges on the white sand, like tufts of evergreen in the desert. There are fearful jagged reefs on the edges of the banks, which, as we passed them towards evening, looked in the horizon like the ruins of an ancient city. It was almost calm, yet the spray was dashing high upon them, and we were glad when again we had plenty of sea-room between our little ship and the grim forms of such dangerous breakers. We arrived in safety, by the mercy of God, although a tempestuous night which we had to spend about twenty miles from the shores of Cuba, made all on board anxious, and made me think of the solemn lines of Dante; solemn they are at sea, when you are getting to the close of your voyage, since a vessel's perils increase with every league by which she nears the coast. For I have seen the ship that o'er the sea So it is often with our plans of happiness and usefulness in life, of the wreck of which, however, we are ourselves too frequently the cause, and can only suffer silently in the light of an experience "which does but illumine the path that has been passed over." But there is a brighter side to Dante's lines, for he says also that he has seen many a bush, which through the winter showed nothing but unsightly sticks and thorns, Bear yet the lovely rose upon its top. |