Upon a sea more vast and dark The spirits of the dead embark, All voyaging to unknown coasts.
We wave our farewells from the shore, And they depart, and come no more, Or come as phantoms and as ghosts.
Above the darksome sea of death Looms the great life that is to be, A land of cloud and mystery, A dim mirage, with shapes of men Long dead and passed beyond our ken, Awe-struck we gaze, and hold our breath Till the fair pageant vanisheth, Leaving us in perplexity, And doubtful whether it has been A vision of the world unseen, Or a bright image of our own Against the sky in vapors thrown.
LUCIFER, singing from the sea.
Thou didst not make it, thou canst not mend it, But thou hast the power to end it!
The sea is silent, the sea is discreet, Deep it lies at thy very feet;There is no confessor like unto Death!
Thou canst not see him, but he is near;
Thou needst not whisper above thy breath, And he will hear;He will answer the questions, The vague surmises and suggestions, That fill thy soul with doubt and fear!
PRINCE HENRY.
The fisherman, who lies afloat, With shadowy sail, in yonder boat, Is singing softly to the Night!
But do I comprehend aright The meaning of the words he sung So sweetly in his native tongue?
Ah yes! the sea is still and deep.
All things within its bosom sleep!
A single step, and all is o'er;
A plunge, a bubble an no more;
And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be free From martyrdom and agony.
ELSIE, coming from her chamber upon the terrace.
The night is calm and cloudless, And still as still can be, And the stars come forth to listen To the music of the sea.
They gather, and gather, and gather, Until they crowd the sky, And listen, in breathless silence, To the solemn litany.
It begins in rocky caverns, As a voice that chants alone To the pedals of the organ In monotonous undertone;And anon from shelving beaches, And shallow sands beyond, In snow-white robes uprising The ghostly choirs respond.
And sadly and unceasing The mournful voice sings on, And the snow-white choirs still answer Christe eleison!
PRINCE HENRY.
Angel of God! thy finer sense perceives Celestial and perpetual harmonies!
Thy purer soul, that trembles and believes, Hears the archangel's trumpet in the breeze, And where the forest rolls, or ocean heaves, Cecilia's organ sounding in the seas, And tongues of prophets speaking in the leaves.
But I hear discord only and despair, And whispers as of demons in the air!
AT SEA
IL PADRONE.
The wind upon our quarter lies, And on before the freshening gale, That fills the snow-white lateen sail, Swiftly our light felucca flies, Around the billows burst and foam;They lift her o'er the sunken rock, They beat her sides with many a shock, And then upon their flowing dome They poise her, like a weathercock!
Between us and the western skies The hills of Corsica arise;Eastward in yonder long blue line, The summits of the Apennine, And southward, and still far away, Salerno, on its sunny bay.
You cannot see it, where it lies.
PRINCE HENRY.
Ah, would that never more mine eyes Might see its towers by night or day!
ELSIE.
Behind us, dark and awfully, There comes a cloud out of the sea, That bears the form of a hunted deer, With hide of brown, and hoofs of black And antlers laid upon its back, And fleeing fast and wild with fear, As if the hounds were on its track!
PRINCE HENRY.
Lo! while we gaze, it breaks and falls In shapeless masses, like the walls Of a burnt city.Broad and red The flies of the descending sun Glare through the windows, and o'erhead, Athwart the vapors, dense and dun, Long shafts of silvery light arise, Like rafters that support the skies!
ELSIE.
See! from its summit the lurid levin Flashes downward without warning, As Lucifer, son of the morning, Fell from the battlements of heaven!
IL PADRONE.
I must entreat you, friends, below!
The angry storm begins to blow, For the weather changes with the moon.
All this morning, until noon, We had baffling winds, and sudden flaws Struck the sea with their cat's-paws.
Only a little hour ago I was whistling to Saint Antonio For a capful of wind to fill our sail, And instead of a breeze he has sent a gale.
Last night I saw St.Elmo's stars, With their glimmering lanterns, all at play On the tops of the masts and the tips of the spars, And I knew we should have foul weather to-day.
Cheerily, my hearties! yo heave ho!
Brail up the mainsail, and let her go As the winds will and Saint Antonio!
Do you see that Livornese felucca, That vessel to the windward yonder, Running with her gunwale under?
I was looking when the wind o'ertook her, She had all sail set, and the only wonder Is that at once the strength of the blast Did not carry away her mast.
She is a galley of the Gran Duca, That, through the fear of the Algerines, Convoys those lazy brigantines, Laden with wine and oil from Lucca.
Now all is ready, high and low;
Blow, blow, good Saint Antonio!
Ha! that is the first dash of the rain, With a sprinkle of spray above the rails, Just enough to moisten our sails, And make them ready for the strain.
See how she leaps, as the blasts o'ertake her, And speeds away with a bone in her mouth!
Now keep her head toward the south, And there is no danger of bank or breaker.
With the breeze behind us, on we go;
Not too much, good Saint Antonio!
VI
THE SCHOOL OF SALERNO
A travelling Scholastic affixing his Theses to the gate of the College.
SCHOLASTIC.
There, that is my gauntlet, my banner, my shield, Hung up as a challenge to all the field!
One hundred and twenty-five propositions, Which I will maintain with the sword of the tongue Against all disputants, old and young.
Let us see if doctors or dialecticians Will dare to dispute my definitions, Or attack any one of my learned theses.
Here stand I; the end shall be as God pleases.
