And now we lost her, now she gleam'd Like Fancy made of golden air, Now nearer to the prow she seem'd Like Virtue firm, like Knowledge fair, Now high on waves that idly burst Like Heavenly Hope she crown'd the sea And now, the bloodless point reversed, She bore the blade of Liberty.

X.

And only one among us--him We please not--he was seldom pleased: He saw not far: his eyes were dim: But ours he swore were all diseased.

'A ship of fools' he shriek'd in spite, 'A ship of fools' he sneer'd and wept.

And overboard one stormy night He cast his body, and on we swept.

XI.

And never sail of ours was furl'd, Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn; We loved the glories of the world, But laws of nature were our scorn; For blasts would rise and rave and cease, But whence were those that drove the sail Across the whirlwind's heart of peace, And to and thro' the counter-gale?

XII.

Again to colder climes we came, For still we follow'd where she led: Now mate is blind and captain lame, And half the crew are sick or dead.

But blind or lame or sick or sound We follow that which flies before: We know the merry world is round, And we may sail for evermore.

IN THE VALLEY OF CAUTERETZ.

All along the valley, stream that flashest white, Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night, All along the valley, where thy waters flow, I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago.

All along the valley while I walk'd to-day, The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away; For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the dead, And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree, The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.

THE FLOWER.

Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed.

Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed.

To and fro they went Thro' my garden-bower, And muttering discontent Cursed me and my flower.

Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o'er the wall Stole the seed by night.

Sow'd it far and wide By every town and tower, Till all the people cried 'Splendid is the flower.'

Read my little fable: He that runs may read.

Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough, And some are poor indeed; And now again the people Call it but a weed.

REQUIESCAT.

Fair is her cottage in its place, Where yon broad water sweetly slowly glides.

It sees itself from thatch to base Dream in the sliding tides.

And fairer she, but ah how soon to die!

Her quiet dream of life this hour may cease.

Her peaceful being slowly pa.s.ses by To some more perfect peace.

THE SAILOR BOY.

He rose at dawn and, fired with hope, Shot o'er the seething harbor-bar, And reach'd the ship and caught the rope, And whistled to the morning star.

And while he whistled long and loud He heard a fierce mermaiden cry, 'O boy, tho' thou art young and proud, I see the place where thou wilt lie.

'The sands and yeasty surges mix In caves about the dreary bay, And on thy ribs the limpet sticks, And in thy heart the scrawl shall play.'

'Fool,' he answer'd, 'death is sure To those that stay and those that roam, But I will nevermore endure To sit with empty hands at home.

'My mother clings about my neck, My sisters crying "stay for shame;"

My father raves of death and wreck, They are all to blame, they are all to blame.

'G.o.d help me! save I take my part Of danger in the roaring sea, A devil rises in my heart, Far worse than any death to me.'

THE ISLET.

'Whither O whither love shall we go, For a score of sweet little summers or so'

The sweet little wife of the singer said, On the day that follow'd the day she was wed, 'Whither O whither love shall we go?'

And the singer shaking his curly head Turn'd as he sat, and struck the keys There at his right with a sudden crash, Singing, 'and shall it be over the seas With a crew that is neither rude nor rash, But a bevy of Eroses apple-cheek'd, In a shallop of crystal ivory-beak'd, With a satin sail of a ruby glow, To a sweet little Eden on earth that I know, A mountain islet pointed and peak'd; Waves on a diamond shingle dash, Cataract brooks to the ocean run, Fairily-delicate palaces shine Mixt with myrtle and clad with vine, And overstream'd and silvery-streak'd With many a rivulet high against the Sun The facets of the glorious mountain flash Above the valleys of palm and pine.'

'Thither O thither, love, let us go.'

'No, no, no!

For in all that exquisite isle, my dear, There is but one bird with a musical throat, And his compa.s.s is but of a single note, That it makes one weary to hear.'

'Mock me not! mock me not! love, let us go.'

'No, love, no.

For the bud ever breaks into bloom on the tree, And a storm never wakes on the lonely sea, And a worm is there in the lonely wood, That pierces the liver and blackens the blood, And makes it a sorrow to be.'

THE RINGLET.