The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea: Book The Second

Oh for a view, as from that cloudless height     Where the great Patriarch gazed upon the world,     His offspring's future seat, back on the vale     Of years departed! We might then behold     Thebes, from her sleep of ages, awful rise,     Like an imperial shadow, from the Nile,     To airy harpings;[1] and with lifted torch     Scatter the darkness through the labyrinths     Of death, where rest her kings, without a name,     And light the winding caves and pyramids     In the long night of years! We might behold     Edom, in towery strength, majestic rise,     And awe the Erithran, to the plains     Where Migdol frowned, and Baal-zephon stood,[2]     Before whose naval shrine the Memphian host     And Pharaoh's pomp were shattered! As her fleets     From Ezion went seaward, to the sound     Of shouts and brazen trumpets, we might say,     How glorious, Edom, in thy ships art thou,     And mighty as the rushing winds!         But night     Is on the mournful scene: a voice is heard,     As of the dead, from hollow sepulchres,     And echoing caverns of the Nile, So pass     The shades of mortal glory! One pure ray     From Sinai bursts (where God of old revealed     His glory, through the darkness terrible     That sat on the dread Mount), and we descry     Thy sons, O Noah! peopling wide the scene,     From Shinar's plain to Egypt.         Let the song     Reveal, who first "went down to the great sea     In ships," and braved the stormy element.     THE SONS OF CUSH.[3] Still fearful of the FLOOD,     They on the marble range and cloudy heights     Of that vast mountain barrier, which uprises     High o'er the Red Sea coast, and stretches on     With the sea-line of Afric's southern bounds     To Sofala, delved in the granite mass     Their dark abode, spreading from rock to rock     Their subterranean cities, whilst they heard,     Secure, the rains of vexed Orion rush.     Emboldened they descend, and now their fanes     On Egypt's champaign darken, whilst the noise     Of caravans is heard, and pyramids     In the pale distance gleam. Imperial THEBES     Starts, like a giant, from the dust; as when     Some dread enchanter waves his wand, and towers     And palaces far in the sandy wilds     Spring up: and still, her sphinxes, huge and high,     Her marble wrecks colossal, seem to speak     The work of some great arm invisible,     Surpassing human strength; while toiling Time,     That sways his desolating scythe so vast,     And weary havoc murmuring at his side,     Smite them in vain. Heard ye the mystic song     Resounding from her caverns as of yore?     Sing to Osiris,[4] for his ark     No more in night profound     Of ocean, fathomless and dark,     Typhon[5] has sunk! Aloud the sistrums ring     Osiris! to our god Osiris sing!     And let the midnight shore to rites of joy resound!     Thee, great restorer of the world, the song     Darkly described, and that mysterious shrine     That bore thee o'er the desolate abyss,     When the earth sank with all its noise!         So taught,     The borderers of the Erithran launch'd     Their barks, and to the shores of Araby     First their brief voyage stretched, and thence returned     With aromatic gums, or spicy wealth     Of India. Prouder triumphs yet await,     For lo! where Ophir's gold unburied shines     New to the sun; but perilous the way,     O'er Ariana's[6] spectred wilderness,     Where ev'n the patient camel scarce endures     The long, long solitude of rocks and sands,     Parched, faint, and sinking, in his mid-day course.     But see! upon the shore great Ammon[7] stands     Be the deep opened! At his voice the deep     Is opened; and the shading ships that ride     With statelier masts and ampler hulls the seas,     Have passed the Straits, and left the rocks and GATES     OF DEATH.[8] Where Asia's cape the autumnal surge     Throws blackening back, beneath a hollow cove,     Awhile the mariners their fearful course     Ponder, ere yet they tempt the further deep;     Then plunged into the sullen main, they cast     The youthful victim, to the dismal gods     Devoted, whilst the smoke of sacrifice     Slowly ascends:     Hear, King of Ocean! hear,     Dark phantom! whether in thy secret cave     Thou sittest, where the deeps are fathomless,     Nor hear'st the waters hum, though all above     Is uproar loud; or on the widest waste,     Far from all land, mov'st in the noontide sun,     With dread and lonely shadow; or on high     Dost ride upon the whirling spires, and fume     Of that enormous volume, that ascends     Black to the skies, and with the thunder's roar     Bursts, while the waves far on are still: Oh, hear,     Dread power, and save! lest hidden eddies whirl     The helpless vessels down, down to the deeps     Of night, where thou, O Father of the Storm,     Dost sleep; or thy vast stature might appear     High o'er the flashing waves, and (as thy beard     Streamed to the cloudy winds) pass o'er their track,     And they are seen no more; or monster-birds     Darkening, with pennons lank, the morn, might bear     The victims to some desert rock, and leave     Their scattered bones to whiten in the winds!     The Ocean-gods, with sacrifice appeased,     Propitious smile; the thunder's roar has ceased,     Smooth and in silence o'er the azure realm     The tall ships glide along; for the South-West     Cheerly and steady blows, and the blue seas     Beneath the shadow sparkle; on they speed,     The long coast varies as they pass from cove     To sheltering cove, the long coast winds away;     Till now emboldened by the unvarying gale,     Still urging to the East, the sailors deem     Some god inviting swells their willing sails,     Or Destiny's fleet dragons through the surge     Cut their mid-way, yoked to the beaked prows     Unseen!     Night after night the heavens' still cope,     That glows with stars, they watch, till morning bears     Airs of sweet fragrance o'er the yellow tide:     Then Malabar her green declivities     Hangs beauteous, beaming to the eye afar     Like scenes of pictured bliss, the shadowy land     Of soft enchantment. Now Salmala's peak     Shines high in air, and Ceylon's dark green woods     Beneath are spread; while, as the strangers wind     Along the curving shores, sounds of delight     Are heard; and birds of richest plumage, red     And yellow, glance along the shades; or fly     With morning twitter, circling o'er the mast,     As singing welcome to the weary crew.     Here rest, till westering gales again invite.     Then o'er the line of level seas glide on,     As the green deities of ocean guide,     Till Ophir's distant hills spring from the main,     And their long labours cease.         Hence Asia slow     Her length unwinds; and Siam and Ceylon     Through wider channels pour their gems and gold     To swell the pomp of Egypt's kings, or deck     With new magnificence the rising dome[9]     Of Palestine's imperial lord.         His wants     To satisfy; "with comelier draperies"     To clothe his shivering form; to bid his arm     Burst, like the Patagonian's,[10] the vain cords     That bound his untried strength; to nurse the flame     Of wider heart-ennobling sympathies;     For this young Commerce roused the energies     Of man; else rolling back, stagnant and foul,     Like the GREAT ELEMENT on which his ships     Go forth, without the currents, winds, and tides     That swell it, as with awful life, and keep     From rank putrescence the long-moving mass:     And He, the sovereign Maker of the world,     So to excite man's high activities,     Bad various climes their various produce pour.     On Asia's plain mark where the cotton-tree     Hangs elegant its golden gems; the date     Sits purpling the soft lucid haze, that lights     The still, pale, sultry landscape; breathing sweet     Along old Ocean's billowy marge, the eve     Bears spicy fragrance far; the bread-fruit shades     The southern isles; and gems, and richest ore,     Lurk in the caverned mountains of the west.     With ampler shade the northern oak uplifts     His strength, itself a forest, and descends     Proud to the world of waves, to bear afar     The wealth collected, on the swelling tides,     To every land: Where nature seems to mourn     Her rugged outcast rocks, there Enterprise     Leaps up; he gazes, like a god, around;     He sees on other plains rich harvests wave;     He marks far off the diamond blaze; he burns     To reach the glittering prize; he looks; he speaks;     The pines of Lebanon fall at his voice;     He rears the towering mast: o'er the long main     He wanders, and becomes, himself though poor,     The sovereign of the globe!         So Sidon rose;     And Tyre, yet prouder o'er the subject waves,     When in his manlier might the Ammonian spread     Beyond Philistia to the Syrian sands,     Crowned on her rocky citadel, beheld     The treasures of all lands poured at her feet.     Her daring prows the inland main disclosed;     Freedom and Glory, Eloquence, and Arts,     Follow their track, upspringing where they passed;     Till, lo! another Thebes, an ATHENS springs,     From the gean shores, and airs are heard,     As of no mortal melody, from isles     That strew the deep around! On to the STRAITS     Where tower the brazen pillars[11] to the clouds,     Her vessels ride. But what a shivering dread     Quelled their bold hopes, when on their watch by night     The mariners first saw the distant flames     Of tna, and its red portentous glare     Streaking the midnight waste! 'Tis not thy lamp,     Astarte, hung in the dun vault of night,     To guide the wanderers of the main! Aghast     They eye the fiery cope, and wait the dawn.     Huge pitchy clouds upshoot, and bursting fires     Flash through the horrid volume as it mounts;     Voices are heard, and thunders muttering deep.     Haste, snatch the oars, fly o'er the glimmering surge     Fly far, already louder thunders roll,     And more terrific flames arise! Oh, spare,     Dread Power! for sure some deity abides     Deep in the central earth, amidst the reek     Of sacrifice and blue sulphureous fume     Involved. Perhaps the living Moloch[12] there     Rules in his horrid empire, amid flames,     Thunders, and blackening volumes, that ascend     And wrap his burning throne!         So was their path,     To those who first the cheerless ocean roamed,     Darkened with dread and peril. Scylla here,     And fell Charybdis, on their whirling gulph     Sit, like the sisters of Despair, and howl,     As the devoted ship, dashed on the crags,     Goes down: and oft the neighbour shores are strewn     With bones of strangers sacrificed, whose bark     Has foundered nigh, where the red watch-tower glares     Through darkness. Hence mysterious dread, and tales     Of Polyphemus and his monstrous rout;     And warbling syrens on the fatal shores     Of soft Parthenope. Yet oft the sound     Of sea-conch through the night from some rude rock     Is heard, to warn the wandering passenger     Of fiends that lurk for blood!         These dangers past,     The sea puts on new beauties: Italy,     Beneath the blue soft sky beaming afar,     Opens her azure bays; Liguria's gulph     Is past; the Btic rocks, and ramparts high,     That CLOSE THE WORLD, appear. The dashing bark     Bursts through the fearful frith: Ah! all is now     One boundless billowy waste; the huge-heaved wave     Beneath the keel turns more intensely blue;     And vaster rolls the surge, that sweeps the shores     Of Cerne, and the green Hesperides,     And long-renowned Atlantis,[13] whether sunk     Now to the bottom of the "monstrous world;"     Or was it but a shadow of the mind,     Vapoury and baseless, like the distant clouds     That seem the promise of an unknown land     To the pale-eyed and wasted mariner,     Cold on the rocking mast. The pilot plies,     Now tossed upon Bayonna's mountain-surge,     High to the north his way; when, lo! the cliffs     Of Albion, o'er the sea-line rising calm     And white, and Marazion's woody mount     Lifting its dark romantic point between.     So did thy ships to Earth's wide bounds proceed,     O Tyre! and thou wert rich and beautiful     In that thy day of glory. Carthage rose,     Thy daughter, and the rival of thy fame,     Upon the sands of Lybia; princes were     Thy merchants; on thy golden throne thy state     Shone, like the orient sun. Dark Lebanon     Waved all his pines for thee; for thee the oaks     Of Bashan towered in strength: thy galleys cut,     Glittering, the sunny surge; thy mariners,     On ivory benches, furled th' embroidered sails,     That looms of Egypt wove, or to the oars,     That measuring dipped, their choral sea-songs sung;     The multitude of isles did shout for thee,     And cast their emeralds at thy feet, and said     Queen of the Waters, who is like to thee!     So wert thou glorious on the seas, and said'st,     I am a God, and there is none like me.     But the dread voice prophetic is gone forth:     Howl, for the whirlwind of the desert comes!     Howl ye again, for Tyre, her multitude     Of sins and dark abominations cry     Against her, saith the LORD; in the mid seas     Her beauty shall be broken; I will bring     Her pride to ashes; she shall be no more,     The distant isles shall tremble at the sound     When thou dost fall; the princes of the sea     Shall from their thrones come down, and cast away     Their gorgeous robes; for thee they shall take up     A bitter lamentation, and shall say     How art thou fallen, renowned city! THOU,     Who wert enthroned glorious on the seas,     To rise no more!     So visible, O GOD,     Is thy dread hand in all the earth! Where Tyre     In gold and purple glittered o'er the scene,     Now the poor fisher dries his net, nor thinks     How great, how rich, how glorious, once she rose!     Meantime the furthest isle, cold and obscure,     Whose painted natives roamed their woody wilds,     From all the world cut off, that wondering marked     Her stately sails approach, now in her turn     Rises a star of glory in the West     Albion, the wonder of the illumined world!     See there a Newton wing the highest heavens;     See there a Herschell's daring hand withdraw     The luminous pavilion, and the throne     Of the bright SUN reveal; there hear the voice     Of holy truth amid her cloistered fane,     As the clear anthem swells; see Taste adorn     Her palaces; and Painting's fervid touch,     That bids the canvas breathe; hear angel-strains,     When Handel, or melodious Purcell, pours     His sweetest harmonies; see Poesy     Open her vales romantic, and the scenes     Where Fancy, an enraptured votary, roves     At eve; and hark! 'twas Shakspeare's voice! he sits     Upon a high and charmed rock alone,     And, like the genius of the mountain, gives     The rapt song to the winds; whilst Pity weeps,     Or Terror shudders at the changeful tones,     As when his Ariel soothes the storm! Then pause,     For the wild billows answer, Lycidas     Is dead, young Lycidas, dead ere his prime,     Whelmed in the deep, beyond the Orcades,     Or where the "vision of the guarded Mount,     BELERUS holds."     Nor skies, nor earth, confine     The march of England's glory; on she speeds,     The unknown barriers of the utmost deep     Her prow has burst, where the dread genius slept     For ages undisturbed, save when he walked     Amid the darkness of the storm! Her fleet     Even now along the East rides terrible,     Where early-rising commerce cheered the scene!     Heard ye the thunders of her vengeance roll,     As Nelson, through the battle's dark-red haze     Aloft upon the burning prow directs,     Where the dread hurricane, with sulphureous flash,     Shall burst unquenchable, while from the grave     Osiris ampler seems to rise? Where thou,     O Tyre! didst awe the subject seas of yore,     Acre even now, and ancient Carmel, hears     The cry of conquest. 'Mid the fire and smoke     Of the war-shaken citadel, with eye     Of temper'd flame, yet resolute command,     His brave sword beaming, and his cheering voice     Heard 'mid the onset's cries, his dark-brown hair     Spread on his fearless forehead, and his hand     Pointing to Gallia's baffled chief, behold     The British Hero stand! Why beats my heart     With kindred animation? The warm tear     Of patriot triumph fills mine eye. I strike     A louder strain unconscious, while the harp     Swells to the bold involuntary song. I.     Fly, SON OF TERROR, fly!     Back o'er the burning desert he is fled!     In heaps the gory dead     And livid in the trenches lie!     His dazzling files no more     Flash on the Syrian sands,     As when from Egypt's ravaged shore,     Aloft their gleamy falchions swinging,     Aloud their victor pans singing,     Their onward way the Gallic legions took.     Despair, dismay, are on his altered look,     Yet hate indignant lowers;     Whilst high on Acre's granite towers     The shade of English Richard seems to stand;     And frowning far, in dusky rows,     A thousand archers draw their bows!     They join the triumph of the British band,     And the rent watch-tower echoes to the cry,     Heard o'er the rolling surge, They fly, they fly! II.     Now the hostile fires decline,     Now through the smoke's deep volumes shine;     Now above the bastions gray     The clouds of battle roll away;     Where, with calm, yet glowing mien,     Britain's victorious youth is seen!     He lifts his eye,     His country's ensigns wave through smoke on high,     Whilst the long-mingled shout is heard, They fly, they fly! III.     Hoary CARMEL, witness thou,     And lift in conscious pride thy brow;     As when upon thy cloudy plain     BAAL'S PROPHETS cried in vain!     They gashed their flesh, and leaped, and cried,     From morn till lingering even-tide.     Then stern ELIJAH on his foes     Strong in the might of Heaven arose!     On CARMEL'S top he stood,     And while the blackening clouds and rain     Came sounding from the Western main,     Raised his right hand that dropped with impious blood.     ANCIENT KISHON prouder swell,     On whose banks they bowed, they fell,     The mighty ones of yore, when, pale with dread,     Inglorious SISERA fled!     So let them perish, Holy LORD,     Who for OPPRESSION lift the sword;     But let all those who, armed for freedom, fight,     "Be as the sun who goes forth in his might."