WHERE ARE THE SHIPS OF TYRE? Hark, how the surges dash On Tyrian beaches hoar ! With far-resounding crash, The white foam squadrons pour Along the sandy floor; Within her walls the clash Of arms is heard no more; No supple bough of ash Is hewn for mast or oar: But winds and waves deplore, By night no torches flash From porches as of yore; No slave now lies in gore; Lifts song to lute or lyre; With all the freight they bore, "Where are the ships of Tyre?" Envoy. Prince, with these " gone before," We, whom these days inspire, Must seek that unknown shore "Where are the ships of Tyre?" CLINTON SCOLLARD. BALLADE OF VAIN HOPES. O ghosts of Bygone Hours, that stand (Though none is seen to walk that floor) We fain would buy what ye can tell, Speak! Speak! And thrill to each heart's coreVain Hopes are all we have to sell! O spectral Hours that throng this land Where no sweet floods of sunshine pour, Dense glooms abide, wind-swept or frore- O sombre, sad-eyed, shadowy band, Speak, speak, and wave not o'er and o'er Each wan phantasmal shadow-hand; if when with battling sore O say, We cross the flood and hear the roar O' the world like a sighed farewell, What waits beyond the Grave's last door? Vain Hopes are all we have to sell! Envoy. O coming Hours, O unspent store, Your promise breathe-as in sea-shell Imprison'd Echo sings her lore Vain Hopes are all we have to sell! WILLIAM SHARP. BALLADE OF THE SONG OF THE SEA-WIND. What is the song the sea-wind sings- What is the song the sea-wind sings The old, old song it singeth for aye? Ere the world grew sad and old and grey- What is the song the sea-wind sings The old, old song it singeth for aye? The world spins down the darksome way! The Earth that from fire and tumult came Envoy. What singeth the sea-wind thus for aye From fire and tumult the white world came! What is the sea-wind's cry To-day Her central fires make one vast flame! WILLIAM SHARP. BALLADE OF THE SEA-FOLK. Where are the creatures of the deep, That made the sea-world wondrous fair? Through leagues of summer sea and air? O sweet wild creatures of the sea! O singing syrens, do ye weep That now ye hear not anywhere The swift oars of the seamen leap, See their wild, eager eyes a-stare? Are ye not filled with cold despair- O Triton, on some coral steep In green-gloom depths, dost thou forbear The wandering sea-waves, to thy care? Envoy. Deep down 'mid coral caves, beware! WILLIAM SHARF. TO AUSTIN DOBSON. From the sunny climes of France, Came a flock of birds by chance, Of some secrets deep in quest,— Seeking one to shield their breast, One to write their songs. Melodies of old romance, Joy and gentle jest, Notes that made the dull heart dance Maids in matchless beauty drest. Youths in happy throngs; These they sang to tempt and test One to write their songs. In old London's wide expanse Came, and tenderly confessed, Perched on leafy prongs, Life were sweet if they possessed One to write their songs. Envoy. Austin, it was you they blest: Time has proven you're the best FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN, |