Puslapio vaizdai
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I am not all unworthy of thy sight;
For from my very boyhood have I loved,
Shunning the meaner track of common minds,
To look on Nature in her loftier moods.

At the fierce rushing of the hurricane,
At the near bursting of the thunderbolt,

I have been touched with joy; and when the sea, Lashed by the wind, hath rocked my bark, and showed

Its yawning caves beneath me, I have loved
Its dangers and the wrath of elements.

But never yet the madness of the sea
Hath moved me as thy grandeur moves me now.

Thou flowest on in quiet, till thy waves
Grow broken midst the rocks; thy current then
Shoots onward like the irresistible course
Of Destiny. Ah, terribly they rage-

The hoarse and rapid whirlpools there! My brain
Grows wild, my senses wander, as I gaze
Upon the hurrying waters; and my sight
Vainly would follow, as toward the verge
Sweeps the wide torrent. Waves innumerable
Meet there and madden-waves innumerable
Urge on and overtake the waves before,
And disappear in thunder and in foam.

They reach, they leap the barrier-the abyss
Swallows insatiable the sinking waves.

A thousand rainbows arch them, and the woods
Are deafened with the roar. The violent shock
Shatters to vapor the descending sheets.
A cloudy whirlwind fills the gulf, and heaves
The mighty pyramid of circling mist
To heaven. The solitary hunter near
Pauses with terror in the forest shades.

What seeks my restless eye? Why are not here About the jaws of this abyss, the palmsAh, the delicious palms-that on the plains Of my own native Cuba spring and spread Their thickly-foliaged summits to the sun, And, in the breathings of the ocean air, Wave soft beneath the heaven's unspotted blue?

But no, Niagara-thy forest pines Are fitter coronal for thee. The palm, The effeminate myrtle, and frail rose may grow In gardens, and give out their fragrance there, Unmanning him who breathes it. Thine it is To do a nobler office. Generous minds Behold thee, and are moved, and learn to rise Above earth's frivolous pleasures; they partake Thy grandeur at the utterance of thy name.

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THERE'S nothing great or bright, thou glorious

Thou mayest not to the fancy's sense recall.
The thunder-riven cloud, the lightning's leap,
The stirring of the chambers of the deep;
Earth's emerald green, and many tinted dyes.
The fleecy whiteness of the upper skies;
The tread of armies thickening as they come,
The boom of cannon and the beating of drum;
The brow of beauty and the form of grace,
The passion and the prowess of our race;
The song of Homer in its loftiest hour,
The unresisted sweep of human power;
Britannia's trident on the azure sea,
America's young shout of Liberty!

Oh! may the waves which madden in thy deep
There spend their rage nor climb, the encircling

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Hundreds of smooth blue rivers, flashing afar o'er

the prairies,

Darkening 'neath forests of pine, deep drowning

the reeds in the marshes,

Cleaving with noiseless sledge the rocks, red-crusted

with copper,

Circle at last to one common goal, the Mighty SeaWater.

Lo! to the northward outlying, wide glimmers the stretch of the Great-Lake,

White-capped and sprinkled with foam, that tumbles its bellowing breakers

Landward on beaches of sand, and in hiding-holes hollow with thunder,

Landward where plovers frequent, with the wolf and the westering bison.

Four such Sea-Waters as this, a chain of green land-bounden oceans,

Pour into one their tides, ever yearning to greet the Atlantic,

Press to one narrow sluice, and proffering their tribute of silver,

Cry as they come: "Receive us, Niagara, Father of Waters!"

Such is the Iroquois god, the symbol of might and of plenty,

Shrine of the untutored brave, subdued by an unfathomed longing,

Seeking in water and wind, still seeking in starglow and lightning,

Something to kneel to, something to pray, to, something to worship.

Here, when the world was wreathed with the scarlet and gold of October,

Here, from far-scattered camps, came the moccasined tribes of the red-man,

Left in their tents their bows, forgot their brawls and dissensions,

Ringed thee with peaceful fires, and over their calumets pondered;

Chose from their fairest virgins the fairest and

purest among them,

Hollowed a birchen canoe, and fashioned a seat for the virgin,

Clothed her in white, and set her adrift to whirl to

thy bosom,

Saying: "Receive this our vow, Niagara, Father of




A CROON ON HENNACLIFF. THUS said the rushing raven

Unto his hungry mate,
"Ho, gossip! for Bude Haven!

There be corpses six or eight.
Cawk, cawk! the crew and skipper
Are wallowing in the sea,
So there's a savory supper

For my old dame and me."

"Cawk! gaffer! thou art dreaming!
The shore hath wreckers bold,
Would rend the yelling seamen
From the clutching billows' hold!
Cawk! cawk! they'd bound for booty
Into the dragon's den,

And shout 'For death or duty!'

If the prey were drowning men.” Loud laughed the listening surges

At the guess our grandam gave; You might call them Boanerges From the thunder of their wave! And mockery followed after

The sea-bird's jeering brood
That filled the skies with laughter
From Lundy Light to Bude.
"Cawk! cawk!" then said the raven;
"I am four-score years and ten,
Yet never in Bude Haven

Did I croak for rescued men.
They will save the captain's girdle
And shirt, if shirt there be,
But leave their blood to curdle
For my old dame and me."
So said the rushing raven

Unto his hungry mate:
"Ho, gossip! for Bude Haven!

There be corpses six or eight.
Cawk! cawk! the crew and skipper
Are wailowing in the sea;

Oh, what a dainty supper
For my old dame and me."



THE tramp of horse adown a shadowed glen;
Dark forms of stern, unmerciful, masked men;
The clash of arms, a cloven prison-door,
And a man's cry for mercy! Then, high o'er

The trampled ground, dim outlined in the storm. The swaying of a lifeless human form.



THERE was no west, there was no east,
No star abroad for eyes to see;
And Norman spurred his jaded beast
Hard by the terrible gallows-tree.

"O, Norman, haste across this waste,

For something seems to follow me!"
"Cheer up, dear Maude, for, thanked be God,
We nigh have passed the gallows-tree!"

He kissed her lip; then, spur and whip,
And fast they fled across the lea;
But vain the heel and rowel steel,

For something leaped from the gallows-tree!

"Give me your cloak, your knightly cloak, That wrapped you oft beyond the sea;

The wind is bold, my bones are old,
And I am cold on the gallows-tree.”

"O, Holy God! O, dearest Maude,

Quick, quick, some prayer, the best that be! A bony hand my neck has spanned, And tears my knightly cloak from me!"

"Give me your wine, the red, red wine,

That in your flask hangs by your knee;
Ten summers burst on me accurst,
And I'm athirst on the gallows-tree."

"Oh, Maude, my life! my loving wife!
Have you no power to set us free?
My belt unclasps, a demon grasps

And drags my wine-flask from my knee!"

“Give me your bride, your bonny bride, That left her nest with you to flee; Oh, she hath flown to be my own,

For I'm alone on the gallows-tree."

"Cling closer, Maude, and trust in God!
Cling close! Ah, heaven, she slips from me!"
A prayer, a groan, and he alone

Rode on that night from the gallows-tree.


LIPPED by the oozy waters of the tide,

Low in the dank, limp death-fringe of the sedge,

Ghostly and purple in the falling night;
With features swollen beyond all shape of life;
With limbs that show death's horrors in their


With hands that clutch, but hold naught in their


With hair that swims and fringes to the wave,
And eyes that shine not, save in phosphorous fires,
Through life, through life! It comes, and floats,
and lies

Thus ever, It, the Body of the Crime!

God! God! I gaze, I can not flee nor stir;
And gazing, hark! Out in the twilight dim,
O'er the dull sluggish flood of earthy waves,
Sounds a hoarse voice, and plashes a faint oar!


I CAME at dawn from out the silent house, (The last night's kisses warm upon my lips) Wearied the dance, and stilled the revel's rouse; Done the long joys, where these joys found eclipse, (The last night's kisses warm upon my lips).

I mind the street; it runneth broad and straight, (The last night's pressure warm upon my throat) River to river, dawn's to sunset's gate;

Trees arched it; one bird waked, I heard its note, (The last night's pressure warm upon my throat).

I mind the wharf, a wharf disused and lone, (The last night's whispers sighing in my ears) Gray waters weltered 'round each slimy stone; Gray waters weltered through its crazy piers, (The last night's whispers sighing in my ears). The tide went out. I marked its ebb desist, (The last night's glances graven on my brain) I heard, below, great horns shriek from the mist, Saw ghosts of ships dim drifting to the main, (The last night's glances graven on my brain).

The city woke. I heard its hum and stir, (The last night's odors in my nostrils quick) I said: Thank God, this is no grief to her; This path she led she strewed with raptures thick, (The last night's odors in my nostrils quick).

Small travail mine; long-planned and picked my


(The last night's kisses warm upon my lips) I stare at noontide from the glassy bay; Beneath my head the long swell lazy slips, (The last night's kisses frozen on my lips).


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