The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea: Book The First.

Awake a louder and a loftier strain!     Beloved harp, whose tones have oft beguiled     My solitary sorrows, when I left     The scene of happier hours, and wandered far,     A pale and drooping stranger; I have sat     (While evening listened to the convent bell)     On the wild margin of the Rhine, and wooed     Thy sympathies, "a-weary of the world,"     And I have found with thee sad fellowship,     Yet always sweet, whene'er my languid hand     Passed carelessly o'er the responsive wires,     While unambitious of the laurelled meed     That crowns the gifted bard, I only asked     Some stealing melodies, the heart might love,     And a brief sonnet to beguile my tears!     But I had hope that one day I might wake     Thy strings to loftier utterance; and now,     Bidding adieu to glens, and woods, and streams,     And turning where, magnificent and vast,     Main Ocean bursts upon my sight, I strike,     Rapt in the theme on which I long have mused,     Strike the loud lyre, and as the blue waves rock,     Swell to their solemn roar the deepening chords.     Lift thy indignant billows high, proclaim     Thy terrors, Spirit of the hoary seas!     I sing thy dread dominion, amid wrecks,     And storms, and howling solitudes, to Man     Submitted: awful shade of Camoens     Bend from the clouds of heaven.         By the bold tones     Of minstrelsy, that o'er the unknown surge     (Where never daring sail before was spread)     Echoed, and startled from his long repose     The indignant Phantom[1] of the stormy Cape;     Oh, let me think that in the winds I hear     Thy animating tones, whilst I pursue     With ardent hopes, like thee, my venturous way,     And bid the seas resound my song! And thou,     Father of Albion's streams, majestic Thames,     Amid the glittering scene, whose long-drawn wave     Goes noiseless, yet with conscious pride, beneath     The thronging vessels' shadows; nor through scenes     More fair, the yellow Tagus, or the Nile,     That ancient river, winds. THOU to the strain     Shalt haply listen, that records the MIGHT     Of OCEAN, like a giant at thy feet     Vanquished, and yielding to thy gentle state     The ancient sceptre of his dread domain!     All was one waste of waves, that buried deep     Earth and its multitudes: the Ark alone,     High on the cloudy van of Ararat,     Rested; for now the death-commissioned storm     Sinks silent, and the eye of day looks out     Dim through the haze; while short successive gleams     Flit o'er the weltering Deluge as it shrinks,     Or the transparent rain-drops, falling few,     Distinct and larger glisten. So the Ark     Rests upon Ararat; but nought around     Its inmates can behold, save o'er th' expanse     Of boundless waters, the sun's orient orb     Stretching the hull's long shadow, or the moon     In silence, through the silver-cinctured clouds,     Sailing as she herself were lost, and left     In Nature's loneliness!         But oh, sweet Hope,     Thou bid'st a tear of holy ecstasy     Start to their eye-lids, when at night the Dove,     Weary, returns, and lo! an olive leaf     Wet in her bill: again she is put forth,     When the seventh morn shines on the hoar abyss:     Due evening comes: her wings are heard no more!     The dawn awakes, not cold and dripping sad,     But cheered with lovelier sunshine; far away     The dark-red mountains slow their naked peaks     Upheave above the waste; Imaus[2] gleams;     Fume the huge torrents on his desert sides;     Till at the awful voice of Him who rules     The storm, the ancient Father and his train     On the dry land descend.         Here let us pause.     No noise in the vast circuit of the globe     Is heard; no sound of human stirring: none     Of pasturing herds, or wandering flocks; nor song     Of birds that solace the forsaken woods     From morn till eve; save in that spot that holds     The sacred Ark: there the glad sounds ascend,     And Nature listens to the breath of Life.     The fleet horse bounds, high-neighing to the wind     That lifts his streaming mane; the heifer lows;     Loud sings the lark amid the rainbow's hues;     The lion lifts him muttering; MAN comes forth     He kneels upon the earth he kisses it;     And to the GOD who stretched that radiant bow,     He lifts his trembling transports.         From one spot     Alone of earth such sounds ascend. How changed     The human prospect! when from realm to realm,     From shore to shore, from isle to furthest isle,     Flung to the stormy main, man's murmuring race,     Various and countless as the shells that strew     The ocean's winding marge, are spread; from shores     Sinensian, where the passing proas gleam     Innumerous 'mid the floating villages:     To Acapulco west, where laden deep     With gold and gems rolls the superb galleon,     Shadowing the hoar Pacific: from the North,     Where on some snowy promontory's height     The Lapland wizard beats his drum, and calls     The spirits of the winds, to th' utmost South,     Where savage Fuego shoots its cold white peaks,     Dreariest of lands, and the poor Pecherais[3]     Shiver and moan along its waste of snows.     So stirs the earth; and for the Ark that passed     Alone and darkling o'er the dread abyss,     Ten thousand and ten thousand barks are seen     Fervent and glancing on the friths and sounds;     From the Bermudian that, with masts inclined,     Shoots like a dart along; to the tall ship     That, like a stately swan, in conscious pride     Breasts beautiful the rising surge, and throws     The gathered waters back, and seems to move     A living thing, along her lucid way     Streaming in white-winged glory to the sun!     Some waft the treasures of the east; some bear     Their country's dark artillery o'er the surge     Frowning; some in the southern solitudes,     Bound on discovery of new regions, spread,     'Mid rocks of driving ice, that crash around,     Their weather-beaten mainsail; or explore     Their perilous way from isle to isle, and wind     The tender social tie; connecting man,     Wherever scattered, with his fellow-man.     How many ages rolled away ere thus,     From NATURE'S GENERAL WRECK, the world's great scene     Was tenanted! See from their sad abode,     At Heaven's dread voice, heard from the solitude,     As in the dayspring of created things,     The sad survivors of a buried world     Come forth; on them, though desolate their seat,     The sky looks down with smiles; for the broad sun,     That to the west slopes his untired career,     Hangs o'er the water's brim. The aged sire,     Now rising from his evening sacrifice,     Amid his offspring stands, and lifts his eyes,     Moist with a tear, to the bright bow: the fire     Yet on the altar burns, whose trailing fume     Goes slowly up, and marks the lucid cope     Of the soft sky, where distant clouds hang still     And beautiful. So placid Evening steals     After the lurid storm, like a sweet form     Of fairy following a perturbed shape     Of giant terror, that in darkness strode.     Slow sinks the lord of day; the clustering clouds     More ardent burn; confusion of rich hues,     Crimson, and gold, and purple, bright, inlay     Their varied edges; till before the eye,     As their last lustre fades, small silver stars     Succeed; and twinkling each in its own sphere,     Thick as the frost's unnumbered spangles, strew     The slowly-paling heavens. Tired Nature seems     Like one who, struggling long for life, had beat     The billows, and scarce gained a desert crag,     O'er-spent, to sink to rest: the tranquil airs     Whisper repose. Now sunk in sleep reclines     The Father of the world; then the sole moon     Mounts high in shadowy beauty; every cloud     Retires, as in the blue space she moves on     Amid the fulgent orbs supreme, and looks     The queen of heaven and earth. Stilly the streams     Retiring sound; midnight's high hollow vault     Faint echoes; stilly sound the distant streams.     When, hark! a strange and mingled wail, and cries     As of ten thousand thousand perishing!     A phantom, 'mid the shadows of the dead,     Before the holy Patriarch, as he slept,     Stood terrible: Dark as a storm it stood     Of thunder and of winds, like hollow seas     Remote; meantime a voice was heard: Behold,     Noah, the foe of thy weak race! my name     Destruction, whom thy sons in yonder plains     Shall worship, and all grim, with mooned horns     Paint fabling: when the flood from off the earth     Before it swept the living multitudes,     I rode amid the hurricane; I heard     The universal shriek of all that lived.     In vain they climbed the rocky heights: I struck     The adamantine mountains, and like dust     They crumbled in the billowy foam. My hall,     Deep in the centre of the seas, received     The victims as they sank! Then, with dark joy,     I sat amid ten thousand carcases,     That weltered at my feet! But THOU and THINE     Have braved my utmost fury: what remains     But vengeance, vengeance on thy hated race;     And be that sheltering shrine the instrument!     Thence, taught to stem the wild sea when it roars,     In after-times to lands remote, where roamed     The naked man and his wan progeny,     They, more instructed in the fatal use     Of arts and arms, shall ply their way; and thou     Wouldst bid the great deep cover thee to see     The sorrows of thy miserable sons:     But turn, and view in part the truths I speak.     He said, and vanished with a dismal sound     Of lamentation from his grisly troop.     Then saw the just man in his dream what seemed     A new and savage land: huge forests stretched     Their world of wood, shading like night the banks     Of torrent-foaming rivers, many a league     Wandering and lost in solitudes; green isles     Here shone, and scattered huts beneath the shade     Of branching palms were seen; whilst in the sun     A naked infant playing, stretched his hand     To reach a speckled snake, that through the leaves     Oft darted, or its shining volumes rolled     Erratic.     From the woods a sable man     Came, as from hunting; in his arms he took     The smiling child, that with the feathers played     Which nodded on his brow; the sheltering hut     Received them, and the cheerful smoke went up     Above the silent woods.         Anon was heard     The sound as of strange thunder, from the mouths     Of hollow engines, as, with white sails spread,     Tall vessels, hulled like the great Ark, approached     The verdant shores: they, in a woody cove     Safe-stationed, hang their pennants motionless     Beneath the palms. Meantime, with shouts and song,     The boat rows hurrying to the land; nor long     Ere the great sea for many a league is tinged,     While corpse on corpse, down the red torrent rolled,[4]     Floats, and the inmost forests murmur, Blood.     Now vast savannahs meet the view, where high     Above the arid grass the serpent lifts     His tawny crest: Not far a vessel rides     Upon the sunny main, and to the shore     Black savage tribes a mournful captive urge,     Who looks to heaven with anguish. Him they cast     Bound in the rank hold of the prison-ship,     With many a sad associate in despair,     Each panting chained to his allotted space;     And moaning, whilst their wasted eye-balls roll.     Another scene appears: the naked slave     Writhes to the bloody lash; but more to view     Nature forbad, for starting from his dream     The just Man woke. Shuddering he gazed around;     He saw the earliest beam of morning shine     Slant on the hills without; he heard the breath     Of placid kine, but troubled thoughts and sad     Arose. He wandered forth; and now far on,     By heavy musings led, reached a ravine     Most mild amid the tempest-riven rocks,     Through whose dark pass he saw the flood remote     Gray-spreading, while the mists of morn went up.     He paused; when on his lonely pathway flashed     A light, and sounds as of approaching wings     Instant were heard. A radiant form appeared,     Celestial, and with heavenly accent said:     Noah, I come commissioned from above,     Where angels move before th' eternal throne     Of heaven's great King in glory, to dispel     The mists of darkness from thy sight; for know,     Not unpermitted of th' Eternal One     The shadows of thy melancholy dream     Hung o'er thee slumbering: Mine the task to show     Futurity's faint scene; now follow me.     He said; and up to the unclouded height     Of that great Eastern mountain,[5] that surveys     Dim Asia, they ascended. Then his brow     The Angel touched, and cleared with whispered charm     The mortal mist before his eyes. At once     (As in the skiey mirage, when the seer     From lonely Kilda's western summit sees     A wondrous scene in shadowy vision rise)     The NETHER WORLD, with seas and shores, appeared     Submitted to his view: but not as then,     A melancholy waste, deform and sad;     But fair as now the green earth spreads, with woods,     Champaign, and hills, and many winding streams     Robed, the magnificent illusion rose.     He saw in mazy longitude devolved     The mighty Brahma-Pooter; to the East     Thibet and China, and the shining sea     That sweeps the inlets of Japan, and winds     Amid the Curile and Aleutian isles,     Pale to the north. Siberia's snowy scenes     Are spread; Jenisca and the freezing Ob     Appear, and many a forest's shady track     Far as the Baltic, and the utmost bounds     Of Scandinavia; thence the eye returns:     And lo! great Lebanon, abrupt and dark     With pines, and airy Carmel, rising slow     Above the midland main, where hang the capes     Of Italy and Greece; swart Africa,     Beneath the parching sun, her long domain     Reveals, the mountains of the Moon, the source     Of Nile, the wild mysterious Niger, lost     Amid the torrid sands; and to the south     Her stormy cape. Beyond the misty main     The weary eye scarce wanders, when behold     Plata, through vaster territory poured;     And Andes, sweeping the horizon's tract,     Mightiest of mountains! whose eternal snows     Feel not the nearer sun; whose umbrage chills     The murmuring ocean; whose volcanic fires     A thousand nations view, hung like the moon     High in the middle waste of heaven; thy range,     Shading far off the Southern hemisphere,     A dusky file Titanic.         So spread     Before our great forefather's view the globe     Appeared; with seas, and shady continents,     And verdant isles, and mountains lifting dark     Their forests, and indenting rivers, poured     In silvery maze. And, Lo! the Angel said,     These scenes, O Noah, thy posterity     Shall people; but remote and scattered wide,     They shall forget their GOD, and see no trace,     Save dimly, of their Great Original.     Rude caves shall be their dwellings: till, with noise     Of multitudes, imperial cities rise.     But the Arch Fiend, the foe of GOD and man,     Shall fling his spells; and, 'mid illusions drear,     Blear Superstition shall arise, the earth     Eclipsing. Deep in caves,[6] vault within vault     Far winding; or in night of thickest woods,     Where no bird sings; or 'mid huge circles gray     Of uncouth stone, her aspect wild, and pale     As the terrific flame that near her burns,     She her mysterious rites, 'mid hymns and cries,     Shall wake, and to her shapeless idols, vast     And smeared with blood, or shrines of lust, shall lead     Her votaries, maddening as she waves her torch,     With visage more expanded, to the groans     Of human sacrifice.     Nor think that love     And happiness shall dwell in vales remote:     The naked man shall see the glorious sun,     And think it but enlightens his poor isle,     Hid in the watery waste; cold on his limbs     The ocean-spray shall beat; his Deities     Shall be the stars, the thunder, and the winds;     And if a stranger on his rugged shores     Be cast, his offered blood shall stain the strand.     O wretched man! who then shall raise thee up     From this thy dark estate, forlorn and lost?     The Patriarch said.     The Angel answered mild,     His God, who destined him to noblest ends!     But mutual intercourse shall stir at first     The sunk and grovelling spirit, and from sleep     The sullen energies of man rouse up,     As of a slumbering giant. He shall walk     Sublime amid the works of GOD: the earth     Shall own his wide dominion; the great sea     Shall toss in vain its roaring waves; his eye     Shall scan the bright orbs as they roll above     Glorious, and his expanding heart shall burn,     As wide and wider in magnificence     The vast scene opens; in the winds and clouds,     The seas, and circling planets, he shall see     The shadow of a dread Almighty move.     Then shall the Dayspring rise, before whose beam     The darkness of the world is past: For, hark!     Seraphs and angel-choirs with symphonies     Acclaiming of ten thousand golden harps,     Amid the bursting clouds of heaven revealed,     At once, in glory jubilant, they sing     God the Redeemer liveth! He who took     Man's nature on him, and in human shroud     Veiled his immortal glory! He is risen!     God the Redeemer liveth! And behold!     The gates of life and immortality     Open to all that breathe!         Oh, might the strains     But win the world to love; meek Charity     Should lift her looks and smile; and with faint voice     The weary pilgrim of the earth exclaim,     As close his eye-lids, Death, where is thy sting?     O Grave, where is thy victory?         And ye,     Whom ocean's melancholy wastes divide,     Who slumber to the sullen surge, awake,     Break forth into thanksgiving, for the bark     That rolled upon the desert deep, shall bear     The tidings of great joy to all that live,     Tidings of life and light.         Oh, were those men,     (The Patriarch raised his drooping looks, and said)     Such in my dream I saw, who to the isles     And peaceful sylvan scenes o'er the wide seas     Came tilting; then their murderous instruments     Lifted, that flashed to the indignant sun,     Whilst the poor native died: Oh, were those men     Instructed in the laws of holier love,     Thou hast displayed?         The Angel meek replied     Call rather fiends of hell those who abuse     The mercies they receive: that such, indeed,     On whom the light of clearer knowledge beams,     Should wander forth, and for the tender voice     Of charity should scatter crimes and woe,     And drench, where'er they pass, the earth with blood,     Might make ev'n angels weep:         But the poor tribes     That groaned and died, deem not them innocent     As injured; more ensanguined rites and deeds     Of deepest stain were theirs; and what if God,     So to approve his justice, and exact     Most even retribution, blood for blood,     Bid forth the Angel of the storm of death!     Thou saw'st, indeed, the seeming innocence     Of man the savage; but thou saw'st not all.     Behold the scene more near! hear the shrill whoop     Of murderous war! See tribes on neighbour tribes     Rush howling, their red hatchets wielding high,     And shouting to their barbarous gods! Behold     The captive bound, yet vaunting direst hate,     And mocking his tormentors, while they gash     His flesh unshrinking, tear his eyeballs, burn     His beating breast! Hear the dark temples ring     To groans and hymns of murderous sacrifice;     While the stern priest, the rites of horror done,     With hollow-echoing chaunt lifts up the heart     Of the last victim 'mid the yelling throng,     Quivering, and red, and reeking to the sun![7]     Reclaimed by gradual intercourse, his heart     Warmed with new sympathies, the forest-chief     Shall cast the bleeding hatchet to his gods     Of darkness, and one Lord of all adore     Maker of heaven and earth.         Let it suffice,     He hath permitted EVIL for a while     To mingle its deep hues and sable shades     Amid life's fair perspective, as thou saw'st     Of late the blackening clouds; but in the end     All these shall roll away, and evening still     Come smilingly, while the great sun looks down     On the illumined scene. So Charity     Shall smile on all the earth, and Nature's God     Look down upon his works; and while far off     The shrieking night-fiends fly, one voice shall rise     From shore to shore, from isle to furthest isle     Glory to God on high, and on earth peace,     Peace and good-will to men!         Thou rest in hope,     And Him with meekness and with trust adore!     He said, and spreading bright his ampler wing,     Flew to the heaven of heavens; the meek man bowed     Adoring, and, with pensive thoughts resigned,     Bent from the aching height his lonely way.