Across the Sea and Other Poems | Page 4

prayer;?Thy calm so deep that he who glideth by?May wonder which is sea and which is sky;?So full thou art of stars, so sweet thy peace,?We seem in heaven while on thy bosom fair.
IV.--AGE.
My boat is old, for I have journeyed far,?But still the Headland seems a weary way;?My boatmen, too, are old, and oft an oar?Slips from a feeble hand, but yet the shore?Upon whose forehead beams the evening star,?Is nearer still and nearer every day.
What matters that my boatmen now are old,?Why should I grieve that with a feeble hand?I hold the swaying helm? The waves no more?Rise o'er the prow to keep me from the shore,?The silken sail at last the breezes hold,?The tide of Love sets toward the Heavenly Land.
O flowing tide that in our autumn time?Ebbs from the world, and bears us on thy breast,?I would to every human soul 'twere given?To drift upon thy silver sheen to heaven;?To fall asleep, and dream, and wake--SUBLIME,?Within the crystal harbor of The Blest.
Dear are thy urging waters, starry tide,?Forever gently flowing heavenward;?Thine every dimple is a token sweet?That rested there some beauteous angel's feet,?Thy sheen, a radiant carpet for the Bride,?Laid to the wedding Temple of her Lord.
Soon o'er the wave my boat no more will ride,?The music of the dipping oar will cease,?And through the glimmering golden mist will fall,?From the calm Headland's height, a loving call,?_Come hither, child, forevermore abide_?_Within thy Father's House--at Home--in Peace._
L'ENVOY.
Hark! there is music on the lovelit sea.?Music, sweet music falls upon mine ear,?Soft as the sigh of June, when die the hours?Crimsoned with sunset and the blush of flowers.?Dost thou not hear it? O it seems to me?No mother's cradle-song was e'er so dear.
The music ceases. From the eastern sky,?Lo! the umbrageous clouds, whose gloomy frown?Shadowed my youth, drift westward, dark no more,?They float illumined o'er the heavenly shore.?Behold, they part! and thro' their portals high?The gleams of endless glory shimmer down.
Farewell, O Deep, nor be thy solemn bell?Jarred as I go by grief's tumultuous blast.?Farewell, ye winds, for me ye ne'er again?Will fret the bosom of the restless main.?To thee, O Barge of Time, a long farewell,?Sweet voices call me. I am home at last.
Give ear, O Earth, the honeyed air again?Swells with the rapture of the heavenly shore;?And I am singing as I upward pass?Upon the "sea of mingled fire and glass,"?To Him who Loved and gave Himself for Men,?Be Glory, Honor, Power, Forevermore.
THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.
Inscribed to
Robert Collyer.
THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.
We seem within a pleasant vale to dwell,?Whose boundary knows the early summer's spell,?And where, in leafy tabernacle, June?Hears not the mandate of the waning moon.?The river bank and hill-side of the vale,?And orchard fruitage streaked with morning pale,?Grow rosy with the rosy summer hours.?Green is the dewy turf and gay with flowers.?The morning sky is azure; we behold?The white clouds sleeping on the eastern hill,?At eve--a fleecy flock--they follow still?The shepherd sun upon his path of gold.?Sweet is the air, and peace is everywhere:?Save that in distant skies beyond our time?We mark the vivid shafts of lightning fly,?Shot from the twanging bow of thunder where?The sky is bright with pale auroral light,?Framed in by darkness; there we view?The stern death-struggling of armed hosts--?The smoke of burning cities--martyr fires--?Towers toppling to ruin, palaces,?Vast columned temples, and triumphal arch,?Fair hanging gardens, walls magnificent,?Resolved to dust by time--as summer's sun?Resolves again a fleecy cloud to mist.?Yet sometimes even here the spectral light?Broadens and brightens into sunny day,?And the soft winds (the sweeter for the war?Of elements,) blow thence to us Legends,--?Traditions fair of noble hearts as true,?Of honor pure, of love as sacred--deep--?Of valor great--of homes as fair and dear,?As fresher, better modern days have known.?I love the Legend of the Sleepers Seven,?Which comes from days so near the Manger--Cross,?It seems to me a tale of Holy Writ.
When Decius sate upon the Roman Throne,?And made his empire red with Christian blood,?Seven noble youths who dwelt at Ephesus?(Noble in birth and every Christian grace)?Refused to heed the Imperial will and bow?Themselves in worship to the pagan gods,?Preferring the reproach of Christ, to all?The wealth and honor of the Court of Rome;?And thus before the Royal Tyrant (who?It chanced was then at Ephesus) the youths?Bore witness to the faith more dear than life.?"The living God who made the earth and sky,?And dwells in Temples never made by hands,?Hath set within the Heaven of Heavens His Throne;?He holdeth in His hands a thousand spheres,?And hath created all that is create;?Jehovah infinite, eternal, good,?And wise, we humbly worship, serve, adore,?We cannot bow, O monarch, to thy gods."
Behind a smile the Emperor hid his rage,?And bade the youths consider well, and count?The gain or loss which might to them befall.?The Emperor's favor was a life of gain,?His anger roused was like a scorching fire.?And thus he