"WHAT SIGHT CAN FIERY MORNING SHOW TO SHAME THE STARS OR PALE MOONLIGHT?-(CORNWALL)

"WE DO WHAT WE DESIRE. 'TIS NOT THE SINEWS-(CORNWALL)

WHAT BOUNTY CAN THE DAY BESTOW, LIKE THAT WHICH FALLS FROM GENTLE NIGHT?"-CORNWALL.

["The sea! the sea! the open sea!"]
It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
Or like a cradled creature lies.

I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea!

I am where I would ever be!
With the blue above, and the blue below,
And silence wheresoe'er I go;
If a storm should come and awake the deep,
What matter? I shall ride and sleep.

I love (oh, how I love) to ride
On the fierce foaming, bursting tide,
When every mad wave drowns the moon,
Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,

And why the south-west blasts do blow.

"TOUCH US GENTLY, TIME!

LET US GLIDE ADOWN THY STREAM-(BARRY CORNWALL)

["And the whale it whistled."]

And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild,
As welcomed to life the ocean-child!

OF LIGHT INWOVE, IN HEAVEN'S IMMORTAL LOOM."-CORNWALL.

66 THE RAINBOW, SHADOWY ARCH, OF EVERY HUE-(BARRY CORNWALL)

350

BRYAN WALLER PROCTER.

I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more,
And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest-
And a mother she was and is to me,
For I was born on the open sea!

The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;

GENTLY, AS WE SOMETIMES GLIDE THROUGH A QUIET DREAM!"-BARRY CORNWALL.

"TOUCH US GENTLY, TIME! WE'VE NOT PROUD NOR SOARING WINGS:

HOW BEAUTIFUL IS MORNING, WHEN THE STREAMS (CORNWALL)

THE HAPPY HOURS.

351

I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers a sailor's life,

With wealth to spend and a power to range,
But never have sought nor sighed for change;
And Death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wild, unbounded sea !

[From Barry Cornwall's "English Songs."]

OUR AMBITION, OUR CONTENT LIES IN SIMPLER THINGS."-CORNWALL.

THE HAPPY HOURS.

H, the hours! the happy hours!
When there shone the light of Love,
And all the sky was blue above,
And the earth was full of flowers!

Why should Time and toil
The worth and beauty spoil

Of such happy Hours?

Oh, the hours! the spring-time hours!
When the soul doth forwards bend,
And dream the sweet world hath no end,
Neither spot, nor shade, nor shower!
Can we ne'er resume

The love, the light, the bloom
Of those vernal hours?

Ever do the year's bright hours
Come, with laughing April, round,
And with her walk the grassy ground,
When she calleth forth the flowers:

But no new springs bear
To us thoughts half so fair
As the bygone hours!

[From Barry Cornwall's "English Songs."]

OF LIGHT COME RUNNING UP THE EASTERN SKIES!"-CORNWALL.

"HUMBLER VOYAGERS ARE WE, O'ER LIFE'S DIM, UNSOUNDED SEA,-(CORNWALL)

64

THE MIGHTIEST POWERS BY DEEPEST CALMS ARE FED,-(CORNWALL)

SEEKING ONLY SOME CALM CLIME

TOUCH US GENTLY, GENTLE TIME!"-CORNWALL.

THOUSAND miles from land are
we,

Tossing about on the roaring sea;
From billow to bounding billow cast,
Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast:

The sails are scattered abroad like weeds;

The strong masts shake like quivering reeds;

The mighty cables and iron chains,

The hull, which all earthly strength disdains,

They strain, and they crack; and hearts like stone
Their natural, hard, proud strength disown.

AND SLEEP, HOW OFT, IN THINGS THAT GENTLEST BE!"-CORNWALL.

66

METHINKS, I FAIN WOULD LIE BY THE LONE SEA,-(CORNWALL)

Up and down! up and down!

From the base of the wave to the billow's crown,

And amidst the flashing and feathery foam
The Stormy Petrel finds a home-
A home, if such a place may be,

For her who lives on the wide, wide sea,
On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,

And only seeketh her rocky lair

To warm her young, and to teach them spring
At once o'er the wave on their stormy wing!
O'er the deep! o'er the deep!

Where the whale, and the shark, and the sword-fish sleep,
Outflying the blast and the driving rain,

The Petrel telleth her tale-in vain ;
For the mariner curseth the warning bird,
Who bringeth him news of the storms unheard!
-Ah! thus does the prophet, of good or ill,
Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still!
Yet he ne'er falters :-so, Petrel, spring
Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing!
[From "English Songs."]

"SONG SHOULD BREATHE OF SCENTS AND FLOWERS; SONG SHOULD LIKE A RIVER FLOW;

SONG SHOULD BRING BACK SCENES AND HOURS THAT WE LOVED, AH, LONG AGO!"-CORNWALL.

FULLER'S BIRD.

I have read of a bird, which hath a face like, and yet will prey upon, a man; who coming to the water to drink, and finding there, by reflection, that he hath killed one like himself, pineth away by degrees, and never afterwards enjoyeth itself."-FULLER'S Worthies.

HE wild-winged creature, clad in gore

(His bloody human meal being o'er),

Comes down to the water's brink; 'Tis the first time he there hath gazed,

And straight he shrinks-alarmed—amazed,

And dares not drink.

AND HEAR THE WATERS THEIR WHITE MUSIC WEAVE. "-CORNWALL.