Were like the piping of the gale,
And thunder in the clouds.
And close behind the Carmilhan
There rose up from the sea,
As from a foundered ship of stone,
Three bare and splintered masts alone:
They were the Chimneys Three.
And onward dashed the Valdemar
And leaped into the dark;
A denser mist, a colder blast,
'A little shudder, and she had passed
Right through the Phantom Bark.
She cleft in twain the shadowy hulk,
But cleft it unaware;
As when, careering to her nest,
The sca-gull severs with her breast
The unresisting air.
Again the lightning flashed; again
They saw the Carmilhan,
Whole as before in hull and spar;
But now on board of the Valdemar
Stood the Klaboterman.
And they all knew their doom was scaled;
They knew that death was near;
Some prayed who never prayed before,
And some they wept, and some they swore,
And some were mute with fear.
Then suddenly there came a shock,
And louder than wind or sea
A cry burst from the crew on deck,
As she dashed and crashed, a hopeless wreck,
Upon the Chimneys Three.
The storm and night were passed, the light
To streak the east began;
The cabin boy, picked up at sea,
Survived the wreck, and only he,
To tell of the Carmilhan.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
EHIND them now the Cape of Praso bends,
Another ocean to their view extends,
Where black-topped islands, to their longing eyes,
Laved by the gentle waves, in prospect rise.
But Gama (captain of the venturous band,
Of bold emprize, and born for high command,
Whose martial fires, with prudence close allied,
Insured the smiles of Fortune on his side)
Bears off those shores which waste and wild appeared,
And eastward still for happier climates steered:
When gathering round, and blackening o'er the tide
A fleet of small canoes the pilot spied;
Hoisting their sails of palm-tree leaves
With curious art, a swarming crowd they move:
Long were their boats, and sharp to bound along
Through the dashed waters, broad their oars and strong:
The bending rowers on their features bore
The swarthy marks of Phaeton's fall of yore:
When flaming lightnings scorched the banks of Po,
And nations blackened in the dread o'erthrow.
Their garb, discovered as approaching nigh,
Was cotton striped with many a gaudy dye:
'T was one whole piece beneath one arm confined,
The rest hung loose and fluttered on the wind;
All, but one breast, above the loins was bare,
And swelling turbans bound their jetty hair:
Their arms were bearded darts and falchions broad,
And warlike music sounded as they rowed.
With joy the sailors saw the boats draw near,
With joy beheld the human face appear:
What nations these, their wondering thoughts explore,
What rites they follow, and what God adore!
And now with hands and kerchiefs waved in air
The barbarous race their friendly mind declare.
Glad were the crew, and weened that happy day
Should end their dangers and their toils repay.
The lofty masts the nimble youths ascend,
The ropes they haul, and o'er the yard-arms bend;
And now their bowsprits pointing to the shore,
(A safe, mooned bay), with slackened sails they borc :
With cheerful shouts they furl the gathered sail
That less and less flaps quivering on the gale;
The prows, their speed stopped, o'er the surges nod,
The falling anchors dash the foaming flood;
When, sudden as they stopped, the swarthy race,
With smiles of friendly welcome on each face,
The ship's high sides swift by the cordage climb :
Illustrious Gama, with an air sublime,
Softened by mild humanity, receives,
And to their chief the hand of friendship gives,
Bids spread the board, and, instant as he said,
Along the deck the festive board is spread:
The sparkling wine in crystal goblets glows,
And round and round with cheerful welcome flows.
Luis de Camoens. Tr. W. J. Mickle.
WRITTEN IN A BLANK LEAF OF LA PÉROUSE'S VOYAGES.
OVED Voyager! his pages had a zest
More sweet than fiction to my wondering breast, When, rapt in fancy, many a boyish day
I tracked his wanderings o'er the watery way,
Roamed round the Aleutian isles in waking dreams,
Or plucked the fleur-de-lys by Jesso's streams,
Or gladly leaped on that far Tartar strand
Where Europe's anchor ne'er had bit the sand,
Where scarce a roving wild tribe crossed the plain,
Or human voice broke nature's silent reign;
But vast and grassy deserts feed the bear,
And sweeping deer-herds dread no hunter's snare.
Such young delight his real records brought,
His truth so touched romantic springs of thought,
That all my after-life his fate and fame
Entwined romance with La Pérouse's name.
Fair were his ships, expert his gallant crews,
And glorious the enterprise of La Pérouse,-
Humanely glorious! Men will weep for him,
When many a guilty martial fame is dim:
He ploughed the deep to bind no captive's chain,
Pursued no rapine, strewed no wreck with slain;
And, save that in the deep themselves lie low,
His heroes plucked no wreath from human woe.
"T was his the earth's remotest bound to scan,
Conciliating with gifts barbaric man,
Enrich the world's contemporaneous mind,
And amplify the picture of mankind.
Far on the vast Pacific, midst those isles,
O'er which the earliest morn of Asia smiles,
He sounded and gave charts to many a shore
And gulf of ocean new to nautic lore;
Yet he that led discovery o'er the wave
Still fills himself an undiscovered grave.
He came not back, - Conjecture's cheek grew pale,
Year after year, in no propitious gale
His lilied banner held its homeward way,
And Science saddened at her martyr's stay.
An age elapsed, - -no wreck told where or when
The chief went down with all his gallant men,
Or whether by the storm and wild sea flood
He perished, or by wilder men of blood:
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