WEARY weed, tossed to and fro, Drearily drenched in the ocean brine, Soaring high and sinking low,
Lashed along without will of mine; Sport of the spoom of the surging sea; Flung on the foam, afar and ancar, Mark my manifold mystery,
Growth and grace in their place appear.
I bear round berries, gray and red, Rootless and rover though I be; My spangled leaves, when nicely spread, Arboresce as a trunkless tree;
Corals curious coat me o'er,
White and hard in apt array; Mid the wild waves' rude uproar, Gracefully grow I, night and day.
Hearts there are on the sounding shore, Something whispers soft to me, Restless and roaming forevermore,
Like this weary weed of the sea; Bear they yet on each beating breast The eternal type of the wondrous whole: Growth unfolding amidst unrest,
Grace informing with silent soul.
Seas of the Tropics.
MORNING AT SEA IN THE TROPICS.
NIGHT waned and wasted, and the fading stars
Died out like lamps that long survived a feast, And the moon, pale with watching, sank to rest Behind the cloud-piled ramparts of the main. Young, blooming Morn, crowned with her bridal wreath, Bent o'er her mirror clear, the faithful sea,
And gazing on her loveliness therein,
Blushed to the brows, till every imaged charm Flung roses on the bosom of the wave,
Then, glancing heavenward, both, they blushed again, As sprang the Sun to claim his radiant bride; And sea and sky seemed but one rose of morn, Which thenceforth grew in glory, and the world Shot back her lesser light upon the day,
While night sped on to seek the sombre shades That sleep in silent caves beyond the sea. The day grew calmer, hotter, and our barque Lay like a sleeping swan upon a lake,
And such soft airs as blew from off the land Brought with them fragrant odors, and we felt That orange groves lay blooming 'neath the sun Which blazed so fiercely overhead at sea. We heard (with Fancy's ear) a distant bell; And through the haze that simmered on the main Pictured a purple shore, - a convent tower
And snowy cots, that from the dark hillside Peeped forth 'tween plantain-patches at the sky, Or smiled through groves of cocoas on the sea. Meanwhile our ship slid on, with breathing sails Fraught with the melody of murmured song Such as the zephyr chanted to the morn,
And showers of diamonds flashed before the prow, While sternwards whirled unstrung pale beads of foam,
Pearls from the loosened chaplet of the sea. Mid these the flame-bright Nautilus, that seemed Itself a floweret cast upon the stream,
Spread out its crimson sail and drifted on. Beyond arose a cloud (as 't were) of birds, That leaped from out the wave to meet the sun, Flew a short circuit, till their wings grew dry, And seaward fell in showers of silver rain. Mid these careered the dolphin-squadrons swift, With mail of changeful hue, and Iris tints; And floating slowly on, a sea-flower passed, A living creature (none the less a flower) That lives its life in love, and dies for joy, Unmissed mid myriads in the sapphire sea.
OW come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight,
And view the wonders of the Torrid Zone: Climes unrelenting! with whose rage compared, Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool.
See, how at once the bright effulgent sun, Rising, direct, swift chases from the sky The short-lived twilight; and with ardent blaze Looks gayly fierce o'er all the dazzling air:
He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends, Issuing from out the portals of the morn, The gentle breeze, to mitigate his fire,
And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crowned And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year, Returning suns and double seasons pass:
Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, That on the high equator ridgy rise,
Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays: Majestic woods, of every vigorous green, Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills; Or to the far horizon wide diffused,
A boundless deep immensity of shade. Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown,
The noble sons of potent heat and floods Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to heaven Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, Unnumbered fruits of keen delicious taste And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs, And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales, Redoubled day, yet in their rugged coats A friendly juice to cool its rage contain.
Bear me, Pomona! to thy citron groves; To where the lemon and the piercing lime, With the deep orange, glowing through the green,
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. Deep in the night the massy locust sheds, Quench my hot limbs; or lead me through the maze, Embowering endless, of the Indian fig;
Or thrown at gayer ease, on some fair brow, Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cooled, Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave, And high palmettos lift their graceful shade. Or stretched amid these orchards of the sun, Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, And from the palm to draw its freshening wine! More bounteous far than all the frantic juice Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its slender twigs Low-bending, be the full pomegranate scorned; Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid race Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells Unboasted worth, above fastidious pomp. Witness, thou best Anana, thou the pride Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er The poets imaged in the Golden Age: Quick let me strip thee of thy tufty coat, Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove! From these the prospect varies. Plains immense Lie stretched below, interminable meads, And vast savannas, where the wandering eye, Unfixed, is in a verdant ocean lost.
Another Flora there, of bolder hues
And richer sweets, beyond our garden's pride,
Plays o'er the fields, and showers with sudden hand
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