THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughtèr, To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, in the month of May. That ope The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now west, now south. Then up and spake an old sailòr, 'I pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane. 'Last night, the moon had a golden ring, The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, Colder and louder blew the wind, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable's length. 'Come hither! come hither! my little daughtèr, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale, That ever wind did blow.' 25 25 WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. He wrapt her warm in his seaman's coat He cut a rope from a broken spar, 'O father! I hear the church-bells ring, ''Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!' 'O father! I hear the sound of guns, 'O father! I see a gleaming light, But the father answered never a word, Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave And fast through the midnight dark and drear, And ever the fitful gusts between The breakers were right beneath her bows, And a whooping billow swept the crew She struck where the white and fleecy waves But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, At day-break, on the bleak sea-beach, To see the form of a maiden fair, The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe! Longfellow. THE LIGHT-HOUSE. The rocky ledge runs far into the sea, With strange, unearthly splendour in its glare! 27 17 THE LIGHT-HOUSE. Not one alone; from each projecting cape Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. Like the great giant Christopher it stands And the great ships sail outward and return, They wave their silent welcomes and farewells. They come forth from the darkness, and their sails And eager faces, as the light unveils, Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. The mariner remembers when a child, On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; And when, returning from adventures wild, He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink. Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same Year after year, through all the silent night Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame, Shines on that unextinguishable light! It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace: The startled waves leap over it; the storm Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock, 'Sail on!' it says, 'sail on, ye stately ships Longfellow. THE SLAVE'S DREAM. Beside the ungathered rice he lay, His breast was bare, his matted hair Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land. Wide through the landscape of his dreams Once more a king he strode; He saw once more his dark-eyed queen They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, They held him by the hand! A tear burst from the sleeper's lids And fell into the sand. And then at furious speed he rode Along the Niger's bank; His bridle-reins were golden chains, And, with a martial clank, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel Smiting his stallion's flank. |