« ElőzőTovább »
When the rock was hid by the tempest's swell,
And then they knew the perilous Rock,
The sun in heaven shone so gay.
The float of the Inchcape Bell was seen,
He felt the cheering power of Spring,
His eye was on the bell and float —
The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound;
The bubbles rose, and burst aground.
Quoth Sir Ralph, the next who comes to the Rock Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothok.
Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away;
And now, grown rich with plunder'd store,
So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
On the deck the Rover takes his stand ;
Canst hear, said one, the breakers roar?
But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell.
They hear no sound, the swell is strong,
SEE how yon flaming herald treads
The morning spray, like sea-born flowers,
And flaming o'er the midnight deep,
In lurid fringes thrown,
The living gems of ocean sweep
Along her flashing zone.
With clashing wheel and lifting keel,
And smoking torch on high,
When winds are loud and billows reel,
When seas are silent and serene,
With even beam she glides,
The sunshine glimmering through the green, That skirts her gleaming sides.
Now like a wild nymph, far apart,
To-night yon pilot shall not sleep
Before this smoky wreath has stained
The rising mist of day.
Hark, hark, I hear yon whistling shroud,
I see yon quivering mast;
The black throat of the hunted cloud
Is panting forth the blast!
An hour, and whirled like winnowing chaff,
His tresses o'er yon pennon-staff,
Yet rest, ye wanderers of the deep;
Those fleshless arms, whose pulses leap
Sleep on; and when the morning light
O think of those for whom the night
Shall never wake in day!
O. W. HOLMES.
A MORNING SCENE.
AMID the rosy fog stole in and out
Gleaming with liquid gold; and all about
Against the canvas, moving to and fro,
The dark forms of the fishermen were seen;
The sea-gulls wheeled around the rocky cape, And skimmed their long wings lightly o'er the flood; The fog rose up in many a spectral shape,
And crept away in silence o'er the wood.