THE STORM-PAINTER IN HIS DUNGEON. 115 Ye watch-fires of the skies! Looks too intensely through my troubled soul; An earth-load on my breast Wake, rushing winds, awake! and, dark clouds, roll! I am your own, your child, That knows not to rejoice But in the peal of your strong harmonies. By sounding ocean-waves, And dim Calabrian caves, And flashing torrents, I have been your mate; Of the olden Apennines, In your dark path stood fearless and elate: Your lightnings were as rods, That smote the deep abodes Of thought and vision-and the stream gush'd free; Come, that my soul again. May swell to burst its chain Bring me the music of the sweeping sea! Within me dwells a flame, An eagle caged and tame, Till call'd forth by the harping of the blast; It springs to sudden power, As mounts the billow o'er the quivering mast. Then, then, the canvass o'er, The lava-waves and guests of my own soul! Dreams, worlds, of pictured strife— Wake, rise! the reed may bend, The shivering leaf descend, The forest branch give way before your might; Call, summon, wait you here- THE TWO VOICES. Two solemn Voices, in a funeral strain, "Thou art gone hence !" one sang; "Our light is flown, "Thou art gone hence!—our joyous hills among Never again to pour thy soul in song, When spring-flowers rise! Of thy glad eyes.” THE TWO VOICES. 117 "Thou art gone home, gone home !" then, high and clear, Warbled that other Voice: "Thou hast no tear Again to shed. Never to fold the robe o'er secret pain, Never, weigh'd down by Memory's clouds, again To bow thy head. "Thou art gone home! oh! early crown'd and blest! Where could the love of that deep heart find rest With aught below? Thou must have seen rich dream by dream decay, All the bright rose-leaves drop from life awayThrice bless'd to go!" Yet sigh'd again that breeze-like Voice of grief“Thou art gone hence! alas! that aught so brief, So loved should be; Thou tak'st our summer hence !-the flower, the tone The music of our being, all in one, Depart with thee! "Fair form, young spirit, morning vision fled! Yes! to the dwelling where no footsteps fall, Thy smile is gone!" "Home, home!" once more the exulting Voice arose: "Thou art gone home!-from that divine repose Never to roam! Never to say farewell, to weep in vain, "By the bright waters now thy lot is castJoy for thee, happy friend! thy bark hath past The rough sea's foam! Now the long yearnings of thy soul are still'd, Home! home!-thy peace is won, thy heart is fill'd. Thou art gone home!" THE PARTING SHIP. "A glittering ship, that hath the plain WORDSWORTH. Go, in thy glory, o'er the ancient sea, Take with thee gentle winds thy sails to swell; Sunshine and joy upon thy streamers be, Fare-thee-well, bark! farewell! Proudly the flashing billow thou hast cleft, The breeze yet follows thee with cheer and song; Who now of storms hath dream or memory left? And yet the deep is strong! But go thou triumphing, while still the smiles THE PARTING SHIP. To thee a welcome breathing o'er the tide, 119 Waves that enfold the pearl shall bathe thy side, On the old Indian shore. Oft shall the shadow of the palm-tree lie O'er glassy bays wherein thy sails are furl'd, And its leaves whisper, as the wind sweeps by, Tales of the elder world. Oft shall the burning stars of Southern skies, Blue seas that roll on gorgeous coasts renown'd, From hills unknown, in mingled joy and fear, Free dusky tribes shall pour, thy flag to mark ;- A long farewell!-Thou wilt not bring us back Some wilt thou leave beneath the plantain's shade, Where through the foliage Indian suns look bright; Some in the snows of wintry regions laid, By the cold northern light. |