Dark as a stream whose waters run
Under the earth in hidden caves,
Where the warm rays of summer's sun
Never illumed the waves;
Such is the calm of those who rove,
Link'd to no being truly dear,
While not a cheering ray of love
Brightens their cold career.
THE Nautilus ever loves to glide
Upon the crest of the radiant tide.
When the sky is clear and the wave is bright,
Look over the sea for a lovely sight!
You may watch, and watch for many a mile,
And never see Nautilus all the while,
Till, just as your patience is nearly lost,
Lo! there is a bark in the sunlight toss'd!
"Sail, ho! and whither away so fast?"
What a curious thing she has rigg'd for a mast!
"Ahoy! ahoy! don't you hear our hail?"
How the breeze is swelling her gossamer sail !
The good ship Nautilus-yes, 'tis she!
Sailing over the gold of the placid sea ;--
And though she will never deign reply,
I could tell her hull with the glance of an eye.
Now, I wonder where Nautilus can be bound;
Or does she always sail round and round,
With the fairy queen and her court on board,
And mariner-sprites, a glittering horde?
Does she roam and roam till the evening light?
And where does she go in the deep midnight?
So crazy a vessel could hardly sail,
Or weather the blow of "a fine stiff gale."
O, the self same hand that holds the chain,
Which the ocean binds to the rocky main-
Which guards from the wreck when the tempest raves,
And the stout ship reels on the surging waves—
Directs the course of thy little bark,
And in the light of the shadow dark,
And near the shore, or far at sea,
Makes safe a billowy path for thee!
BOAT SONG.
[C. F. HOFFMAN.]
WE court no gale with wooing sail,
We fear no squall a-brewing;
Seas smooth or rough, skies fair or bluff,
Alike our course pursuing.
For what to us are winds, when thus
Our merry boat is flying,
While bold and free, with jocund glee,
Stout hearts her oars are plying?
At twilight dun, when red the sun
Far o'er the water flashes,
With buoyant song, our bark along
Her crimson pathway dashes.
And when the night devours the light,
And shadows thicken o'er us,
The stars steal out, the skies about
To dance to our bold chorus.
Sometimes near shore we ease our oar,
While beauty's sleep invading,
To watch the beam through her casement gleam,
As she wakes to our serenading;
Then with the tide we floating glide
To music soft, receding,
Or drain one cup, to her fill'd up
For whom those notes are pleading.
Thus, on and on, till the night is gone,
And the garish dawn is breaking,
While landsmen sleep, we boatmen keep
The soul of frolic waking.
And though cheerless then our craft look, when
To her moorings day hath brought her,
By the moon amain she is launch'd again
To dance o'er the merry water.
SCENES THAT ARE BRIGHTEST.
SCENES that are brightest
May charm awhile,
Hearts that are lightest,
And eyes that smile;
Yet o'er them above us,
Though nature beam,
With none to love us,
How sad they seem!
Words cannot scatter
The thoughts we fear,
For though they flatter,
They mock the ear;
Hopes still deceive us
With tearful cost,
And when they leave us,
The heart is lost.
SLUMBER, DEAREST, SWEETLY
SLUMBER, dearest, sweetly slumber,
Rest secure, no danger fear;
Joys and blessings without number
Wait thy waking, lady dear.
Visions of a happy morrow,
Dreams without a cloud of sorrow,
Through the silent hours be thine.
Rest thee sweetly, lady mine,
Gently o'er thy pillow blending,
Stars their softest light disclose;
Moonlit rills, melodious blending,
Woo thee, dearest, to repose.
Visions of a happy morrow,
Dreams without a cloud of sorrow,
Through the silent hours be thine.
Rest thee sweetly, lady mine.
Placid slumber's chain hath bound thee
With her rosy fetters light;
Thoughts of love are all around thee,--
Guardian spirits of the night.
Visions of a happy morrow,
Dreams without a cloud of sorrow,
Through the lonely hours be thine.
Peace be with thee, lady mine.
THE rosy hours of this life are but few,
For they die in their birth e'en; as showers Which the morning's first dew
Weeps on the earth as the sun displays
Then silly is the heart that grieveth,
Over the pangs their absence leaveth,
Which there is no preventing;
When after all 'tis doubtful whether
Their pleasures, blended altogether,
Are even worth lamenting.
Then silly is the heart that grieveth,
Over the pangs their absence leaveth,
Which there is no preventing,
Which there is no preventing.
FROM aloft the sailor looks around,
And hears below the murmuring billows' sound :
Far off from home he counts another day,
Wide o'er the seas the vessel bears away!
His courage wants no whet,
But he springs the sails to set,
With heart as fresh as rising breeze of May;
And caring nought
He turns his thought
To his lovely Sue or his charming Bet.
Now to heaven the lofty topmast soars,
The stormy blast like dreadful thunder roars;
Now ocean's deepest gulfs appear below,
The curling surges foam, and down we go!
When skies and seas are met
They his courage serve to whet,
With a heart as fresh as rising breeze of May;
And dreading nought
He turns his thought
To his lovely Sue or his charming Bet.
THE FISHER BOY JOLLILY LIVES.
MERRILY oh! merrily oh!
The nets are spread out to the sun!
Merrily oh! the fisher boy sings,
Right glad that his labour is done.
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