The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume I Part 26

The sad morn Comes forth; but terror on the sunless wave Still, like a sea-fiend, sits, and darkly smiles Beneath the flash that through the struggling clouds Bursts frequent, half revealing his scathed front, 290 Above the rocking of the waste that rolls Boundless around.

No word through the long day She spoke;--another slowly came;--no word The beauteous drooping mourner spoke. The sun Twelve times had sunk beneath the sullen surge, And cheerless rose again:--Ah, where are now Thy havens, France! But yet--resign not yet-- Ye lost seafarers--oh, resign not yet All hope--the storm is pa.s.sed; the drenched sail 300 s.h.i.+nes in the pa.s.sing beam! Look up, and say-- Heaven, thou hast heard our prayers!

And lo! scarce seen, A distant dusky spot appears;--they reach An unknown sh.o.r.e, and green and flowery vales, And azure hills, and silver-gus.h.i.+ng streams, s.h.i.+ne forth; a Paradise, which Heaven alone, Who saw the silent anguish of despair, Could raise in the waste wilderness of waves.

They gain the haven; through untrodden scenes, 310 Perhaps untrodden by the foot of man Since first the earth arose, they wind. The voice Of Nature hails them here with music, sweet, As waving woods retired, or falling streams, Can make; most soothing to the weary heart, Doubly to those who, struggling with their fate, And wearied long with watchings and with grief, Seek but a place of safety. All things here Whisper repose and peace; the very birds That 'mid the golden fruitage glance their plumes, 320 The songsters of the lonely valley, sing-- Welcome from scenes of sorrow, live with us.

The wild wood opens, and a shady glen Appears, embowered with mantling laurels high, That sloping shade the flowery valley's side; A lucid stream, with gentle murmur, strays Beneath the umbrageous mult.i.tude of leaves, Till gaining, with soft lapse, the nether plain, It glances light along its yellow bed;-- The s.h.a.ggy inmates of the forest lick 330 The feet of their new guests, and gazing stand.

A beauteous tree upshoots amid the glade Its trembling top; and there upon the bank They rest them, while each heart o'erflows with joy.

Now evening, breathing richer odours sweet, Came down: a softer sound the circling seas, The ancient woods resounded, while the dove, Her murmurs interposing, tenderness Awaked, yet more endearing, in the hearts Of those who, severed wide from human kind, 340 Woman and man, by vows sincere betrothed, Heard but the voice of Nature. The still moon Arose--they saw it not--cheek was to cheek Inclined, and unawares a stealing tear Witnessed how blissful was that hour, that seemed Not of the hours that time could count. A kiss Stole on the listening silence; ne'er till now Here heard; they trembled, ev'n as if the Power That made the world, that planted the first pair In Paradise, amid the garden walked:-- 350 This since the fairest garden that the world Has witnessed, by the fabling sons of Greece Hesperian named, who feigned the watchful guard Of the scaled Dragon, and the Golden Fruit.

Such was this sylvan Paradise; and here The loveliest pair, from a hard world remote, Upon each other's neck reclined; their breath Alone was heard, when the dove ceased on high Her plaint; and tenderly their faithful arms Infolded each the other. 360 Thou, dim cloud, That from the search of men these beauteous vales Hast closed, oh, doubly veil them! But alas, How short the dream of human transport! Here, In vain they built the leafy bower of love, Or culled the sweetest flowers and fairest fruit.

The hours unheeded stole! but ah, not long-- Again the hollow tempest of the night Sounds through the leaves; the inmost woods resound; Slow comes the dawn, but neither s.h.i.+p nor sail 370 Along the rocking of the windy waste Is seen: the dash of the dark-heaving wave Alone is heard. Start from your bed of bliss, Poor victims! never more shall ye behold Your native vales again; and thou, sweet child!

Who, listening to the voice of love, hast left Thy friends, thy country,--oh, may the wan hue Of pining memory, the sunk cheek, the eye Where tenderness yet dwells, atone (if love Atonement need, by cruelty and wrong 380 Beset), atone ev'n now thy rash resolves!

Ah, fruitless hope! Day after day, thy bloom Fades, and the tender l.u.s.tre of thy eye Is dimmed: thy form, amid creation, seems The only drooping thing.

Thy look was soft, And yet most animated, and thy step Light as the roe's upon the mountains. Now, Thou sittest hopeless, pale, beneath the tree That fanned its joyous leaves above thy head, 390 Where love had decked the blooming bower, and strewn The sweets of summer: DEATH is on thy cheek, And thy chill hand the pressure scarce returns Of him, who, agonised and hopeless, hangs With tears and trembling o'er thee. Spare the sight,-- She faints--she dies!-- He laid her in the earth, Himself scarce living, and upon her tomb Beneath the beauteous tree where they reclined, Placed the last tribute of his earthly love. 400

INSCRIPTION FOR THE GRAVE OF ANNA D'ARFET.

O'er my poor ANNA'S lowly grave No dirge shall sound, no knell shall ring; But angels, as the high pines wave, Their half-heard "Miserere" sing.

No flowers of transient bloom at eve The maidens on the turf shall strew; Nor sigh, as the sad spot they leave, Sweets to the sweet! a long adieu!

But in this wilderness profound, O'er her the dove shall build her nest; 410 And ocean swell with softer sound A requiem to her dreams of rest!

Ah! when shall I as quiet be, When not a friend, or human eye, Shall mark beneath the mossy tree The spot where we forgotten lie!

To kiss her name on the cold stone, Is all that now on earth I crave; For in this world I am alone-- Oh, lay me with her in the grave! 420

ROBERT A MACHIN, 1344.

_Miserere n.o.bis, Domine._

He placed the rude inscription on her stone, Which he with faltering hands had graved, and soon Himself beside it sunk--yet ere he died, Faintly he spoke: If ever ye shall hear, Companions of my few and evil days, Again the convent's vesper bells, oh! think Of me; and if in after-times the search Of men should reach this far removed spot, Let sad remembrance raise an humble shrine, And virgin choirs chaunt duly o'er our grave: 430 Peace, peace! His arm upon the mournful stone He dropped; his eyes, ere yet in death they closed, Turned to the name, till he could see no more ANNA. His pale survivors, earth to earth, Weeping consigned his poor remains, and placed Beneath the sod where all he loved was laid.

Then shaping a rude vessel from the woods, They sought their country o'er the waves, and left Those scenes once more to deepest solitude.

The beauteous ponciana hung its head 440 O'er the gray stone; but never human eye Had mark'd the spot, or gazed upon the grave Of the unfortunate, but for the voice Of ENTERPRISE, that spoke, from Sagre's towers, Through ocean's perils, storms, and unknown wastes-- Speed we to Asia!

Here, Discovery, pause!-- Then from the tomb of him who first was cast Upon this Heaven-appointed isle, thy gaze Uplift, and far beyond the Cape of Storms 450 Pursue De Gama's tract. Mark the rich sh.o.r.es Of Madagascar, till the purple East s.h.i.+nes in luxuriant beauty wide disclosed.

But cease thy song, presumptuous Muse!--a bard, In tones whose patriot sound shall never die, Has struck his deep sh.e.l.l, and the glorious theme Recorded.

Say, what lofty meed awaits The triumph of his victor conch, that swells Its music on the yellow Tagus' side, 460 As when Arion, with his glittering harp And golden hair, scarce sullied from the main, Bids all the high rocks listen to his voice Again! Alas, I see an aged form, An old man worn by penury, his hair Blown white upon his haggard cheek, his hand Emaciated, yet the strings with thrilling touch Soliciting; but the vain crowds pa.s.s by: His very countrymen, whose fame his song Has raised to heaven, in stately apathy 470 Wrapped up, and nursed in pride's fastidious lap, Regard not. As he plays, a sable man Looks up, but fears to speak, and when the song Has ceased, kisses his master's feeble hand.

Is that cold wasted hand, that haggard look, Thine, Camoens? Oh, shame upon the world!

And is there none, none to sustain thee found, But he, himself unfriended, who so far Has followed, severed from his native isles, To scenes of gorgeous cities, o'er the sea, 480 Thee and thy broken fortunes!

G.o.d of worlds!

Oh, whilst I hail the triumph and high boast Of social life, let me not wrong the sense Of kindness, planted in the human heart By man's great Maker, therefore I record Antonio's faithful, gentle, generous love To his heartbroken master, that might teach, High as it bears itself, a polished world More charity. 490 DISCOVERY, turn thine eyes!

COLUMBUS' toiling s.h.i.+p is on the deep, Stemming the mid Atlantic.

Waste and wild The view! On the same suns.h.i.+ne o'er the waves The murmuring mariners, with languid eye, Ev'n till the heart is sick, gaze day by day!

At midnight in the wind sad voices sound!

When the slow morning o'er the offing dawns, Heartless they view the same drear weltering waste 500 Of seas: and when the sun again goes down Silent, hope dies within them, and they think Of parting friends.h.i.+p's last despairing look!

See too, dread prodigy, the needle veers Her trembling point--will Heaven forsake them too!

But lift thy sunk eye, and thy bloodless look, Despondence! Milder airs at morning breathe:-- Below the slowly-parting prow the sea Is dark with weeds; and birds of land are seen To wing the desert tract, as hasting on 510 To the green valleys of their distant home.

Yet morn succeeds to morn--and nought around Is seen, but dark weeds floating many a league, The sun's sole orb, and the pale hollowness Of heaven's high arch streaked with the early clouds.

Watchman, what from the giddy mast?

A shade Appears on the horizon's hazy line.

Land! land! aloud is echoed; but the spot Fades as the shouting crew delighted gaze-- 520 It fades, and there is nothing--nothing now But the blue sky, the clouds, and surging seas!

As one who, in the desert, faint with thirst, Upon the trackless and forsaken sands Sinks dying; him the burning haze deceives, As mocking his last torments, while it seems, To his distempered vision, like th' expanse Of lucid waters cool: so falsely smiles Th' illusive land upon the water's edge, To the long-straining eye showing what seems 530 Its headlands and its distant trending sh.o.r.es;-- But all is false, and like the pensive dream Of poor imagination, 'mid the waves Of troubled life, decked with unreal hues, And ending soon in emptiness and tears.

'Tis midnight, and the thoughtful chief, retired From the vexed crowd, in his still cabin hears The surge that rolls below; he lifts his eyes, And casts a silent anxious look without.

It is a light--great G.o.d--it is a light! 540 It moves upon the sh.o.r.e!--Land--there is land!

He spoke in secret, and a tear of joy Stole down his cheek, when on his knees he fell.

Thou, who hast been his guardian in wastes Of the h.o.a.r deep, accept his tears, his prayers; While thus he fondly hopes the purer light Of thy great truths on the benighted world Shall beam!

The lingering night is past;--the sun s.h.i.+nes out, while now the red-cross streamers wave 550 High up the gently-surging bay. From all Shouts, songs, and rapturous thanksgiving loud, Burst forth: Another world, entranced they cry, Another living world!--Awe-struck and mute The gazing natives stand, and drop their spears, In homage to the G.o.ds!

So from the deep They hail emerging; sight more awful far Than ever yet the wondering voyager Greeted;--the prospect of a new-found world, 560 Now from the night of dark uncertainty At once revealed in living light!

How beats The heart! What thronging thoughts awake! Whence sprung The roaming nations? From that ancient race That peopled Asia--Noah's sons? How, then, Pa.s.sed they the long and lone expanse between Of stormy ocean, from the elder earth Cut off, and lost, for unknown ages, lost In the vast deep? But whilst the awful view 570 Stands in thy sight revealed, Spirit, awake To prouder energies! Even now, in thought, I see thee opening bold Magellan's tract![185]

The straits are pa.s.sed! Thou, as the seas expand, Pausest a moment, when beneath thine eye Blue, vast, and rocking, through its boundless rule, The long Pacific stretches. Nor here cease Thy search, but with De Quiros[186] to the South Still urge thy way, if yet some continent Stretch to its dusky pole, with nations spread, 580 Forests, and hills, and streams.

So be thy search With ampler views rewarded, till, at length, Lo, the round world is compa.s.sed! Then return Back to the bosom of the tranquil Thames, And hail Britannia's victor s.h.i.+p,[187] that now From many a storm restored, winds its slow way Silently up the current, and so finds, Like to a time-worn pilgrim of the world, Rest, in that haven where all tempests cease. 590

[180] The Pharos was not erected by Alexander, but Alexandria is here supposed to be finished.

[181] Cape Bojador.

[182] John Gongalez Zarco was employed by Prince Henry to conduct the enterprise of discovery along the Western coast of Africa.

[183] Porto Santo.

[184] I have called the three islands of Madeiras the Hesperides, who, in ancient mythology, are the three daughters of Atlas; as I consider the orange-trees and mysterious shade, with the rocks discerned through it on a nearer approach, to be the best solution of the fable of the golden fruit, the dragon, and the three daughters of Atlas.

[185] Magellan's s.h.i.+p first circ.u.mnavigated the globe, pa.s.sing through the straits, called by his name, into the South Sea, and proceeding West to the East Indies. He himself, like our revered Cooke, perished in the enterprise.

[186] De Quiros first discovered the New Hebrides, in the South Sea; afterwards explored by Cooke, who bears testimony to the accuracy of De Quiros. These islands were supposed part of a great continent stretching to the South pole, called _Terra Australis incognita._

[187] Drake's s.h.i.+p, in which he sailed round the world; she was laid up at Deptford--hence Ben Johnson, in _Every Man in his Humour_, "O Coz, it cannot be altered, go not about it; Drake's old s.h.i.+p at Deptford may sooner circle the world again."

BOOK THE FIFTH.

Such are thy views, DISCOVERY! The great world Rolls to thine eye revealed; to thee the Deep Submits its awful empire; Industry Awakes, and Commerce to the echoing marts From east to west unwearied pours her wealth.

Man walks sublimer; and Humanity, Matured by social intercourse, more high, More animated, lifts her sovereign mien, And waves her golden sceptre. Yet the heart Asks trembling, is no evil found! Oh, turn, 10 Meek Charity, and drop a human tear For the sad fate of Afric's injured sons, And hide, for ever hide, the sight of chains, Anguish, and bondage! Yes, the heart of man Is sick, and Charity turns pale, to think How soon, for pure religion's holy beam, Dark crimes, that sullied the sweet day, pursued, Like vultures, the Discoverer's ocean tract, Screaming for blood, to fields of rich Peru, Or ravaged Mexico, while Gold more Gold! 20 The caverned mountains echoed, Gold more Gold!

Then see the fell-eyed, prowling buccaneer, Grim as a libbard! He his jealous look Turns to the dagger at his belt, his hand By instinct grasps a b.l.o.o.d.y scymitar, And ghastly is his smile, as o'er the woods He sees the smoke of burning villages Ascend, and thinks ev'n now he counts his spoil.

See thousands destined to the lurid mine, Never to see the sun again; all names 30 Of husband, sire, all tender charities Of love, deep buried with them in that grave, Where life is as a thing long pa.s.sed; and hope No more its sickly ray, to cheer the gloom, Extends.

Thou, too, dread Ocean, toss thine arms, Exulting, for the treasures and the gems That thy dark oozy realm emblaze; and call The pale procession of the dead, from caves Where late their bodies weltered, to attend 40 Thy kingly sceptre, and proclaim thy might!

Lord of the Hurricane! bid all thy winds Swell, and destruction ride upon the surge, Where, after the red lightning flash that shows The labouring s.h.i.+p, all is at once deep night And long suspense, till the slow dawn of day Gleams on the scattered corses of the dead, That strew the sounding sh.o.r.e!

Then think of him, Ye who rejoice with those you love, at eve, 50 When winds of winter shake the window-frame, And more endear your fire, oh, think of him, Who, saved alone from the destroying storm, Is cast on some deserted rock; who sees Sun after sun descend, and hopeless hears; At morn the long surge of the troubled main, That beats without his wretched cave; meantime He fears to wake the echoes with his voice, So dread the solitude!

Let Greenland's snows 60 Then s.h.i.+ne, and mark the melancholy train There left to perish, whilst the cold pale day Declines along the further ice, that binds The s.h.i.+p, and leaves in night the sinking scene.

Sad winter closes on the deep; the smoke Of frost, that late amusive to the eye Rose o'er the coast, is pa.s.sed, and all is now One torpid blank; the freezing particles Blown blistering, and the white bear seeks her cave.

Ill-fated outcasts, when the morn again 70 Shall streak with feeble beam the frozen waste, Your air-bleached and unburied carcases Shall press the ground, and, as the stars fade off, Your stony eyes glare 'mid the desert snows!

These triumphs boast, fell Demon of the Deep!

Though never more the universal shriek Of all that perish thou shalt hear, as when The deep foundations of the guilty earth Were shaken at the voice of G.o.d, and man Ceased in his habitations; yet the sea 80 Thy might tempestuous still, and joyless rule, Confesses. Ah! what bloodless shadows throng Ev'n now, slow rising from their oozy beds, From Mete,[188] and those gates of burial That guard the Erythraean; from the vast Unfathomed caverns of the Western main Or stormy Orcades; whilst the sad sh.e.l.l Of poor Arion,[189] to the hollow blast Slow seems to pour its melancholy tones, And faintly vibrate, as the dead pa.s.s by. 90 I see the chiefs, who fell in distant lands, The prey of murderous savages, when yells, And shouts, and conch, resounded through the woods.

Magellan and De Solis seem to lead The mournful train. Shade of Perouse! oh, say Where, in the tract of unknown seas, thy bones Th' insulting surge has swept?

But who is he, Whose look, though pale and b.l.o.o.d.y, wears the trace Of pure philanthropy? The pitying sigh 100 Forbid not; he was dear to Britons, dear To every beating heart, far as the world Extends; and my faint faltering touch ev'n now Dies on the strings, when I p.r.o.nounce thy name, Oh, lost, lamented, generous, hapless Cook!

But cease the vain complaint; turn from the sh.o.r.es, Wet with his blood, Remembrance: cast thine eyes Upon the long seas, and the wider world, Displayed from his research. Smile, glowing Health!

For now no more the wasted seaman sinks, 110 With haggard eye and feeble frame diseased; No more with tortured longings for the sight Of fields and hillocks green, madly he calls On Nature, when before his swimming eye The liquid long expanse of cheerless seas Seems all one flowery plain. Then frantic dreams Arise; his eye's distemper'd flash is seen From the sunk socket, as a demon there Sat mocking, till he plunges in the flood, And the dark wave goes o'er him. 120 Nor wilt thou, O Science! fail to deck the cold morai[190]

Of him who wider o'er earth's hemisphere Thy views extended. On, from deep to deep, Thou shalt retrace the windings of his track; From the high North to where the field-ice binds The still Antarctic. Thence, from isle to isle, Thou shalt pursue his progress; and explore New-Holland's eastern sh.o.r.es,[191] where now the sons Of distant Britain, from her lap cast out, 130 Water the ground with tears of penitence, Perhaps, hereafter, in their destined time, Themselves to rise pre-eminent. Now speed, By Asia's eastern bounds, still to the North, Where the vast continents of either world Approach: Beyond, 'tis silent boundless ice, Impenetrable barrier, where all thought Is lost; where never yet the eagle flew, Nor roamed so far the white bear through the waste.

But thou, dread POWER! whose voice from chaos called 140 The earth, who bad'st the Lord of light go forth, Ev'n as a giant, and the sounding seas Roll at thy fiat: may the dark deep clouds, That thy pavilion shroud from mortal sight, So pa.s.s away, as now the mystery, Obscure through rolling ages, is disclosed; How man, from one great Father sprung, his race Spread to that severed continent! Ev'n so, FATHER, in thy good time, shall all things stand Revealed to knowledge. 150 As the mind revolves The change of mighty empires, and the fate Of HIM whom Thou hast made, back through the dusk Of ages Contemplation turns her view: We mark, as from its infancy, the world Peopled again, from that mysterious shrine That rested on the top of Ararat, Highest of Asian mountains; spreading on, The Cus.h.i.+tes from their mountain caves descend; Then before G.o.d the sons of Ammon stood 160 In their gigantic might, and first the seas Vanquished: But still from clime to clime the groan Of sacrifice, and Superst.i.tion's cry, Was heard; but when the Dayspring rose of heaven, Greece's h.o.a.r forests echoed, The great Pan Is dead! From Egypt, and the rugged sh.o.r.es Of Syrian Tyre, the G.o.ds of darkness fly; Bel is cast down, and Nebo, horrid king, Bows in imperial Babylon: But, ah!

Too soon, the Star of Bethlehem, whose ray 170 The host of heaven hailed jubilant, and sang, Glory to G.o.d on high, and on earth peace, With long eclipse is veiled.

Red Papacy Usurped the meek dominion of the Lord Of love and charity: vast as a fiend She rose, Heaven's light was darkened with her frown, And the earth murmured back her hymns of blood, As the meek martyr at the burning stake Stood, his last look uplifted to his G.o.d! 180 But she is now cast down, her empire reft.

They who in darkness walked, and in the shade Of death, have seen a new and holy light, As in th' umbrageous forest, through whose boughs, Mossy and damp, for many a league, the morn With languid beam scarce pierces, here and there Touching some solitary trunk, the rest Dark waving in the noxious atmosphere: Through the thick-matted leaves the serpent winds His way, to find a spot of casual sun; 190 The gaunt hyaena through the thicket glides At eve: then, too, the couched tiger's eye Flames in the dusk, and oft the gnas.h.i.+ng jaws Of the fell crocodile are heard. At length, By man's superior energy and toil, The sunless brakes are cleared; the joyous morn s.h.i.+nes through the opening leaves; rich culture smiles Around; and howling to their distant wilds The savage inmates of the wood retire.