Mariners

A beardless crew we launched our little boat;     Laughed at its lightness; joyed to see it float,     Veer in the wind, and, with the freshening gale,     Bend o'er the foaming prow the swollen sail.     No fears were ours within that stanch-built barque;     No fears were ours 'though all the west was dark,     And overhead were unknown stars; the ring     Of ocean sailless and no bird a-wing:     Yet there was light; radiance that dimmed the stars     Dancing like bubbles in Night's sapphire jars.     We knew not what: only adown the skies     A shape that led us, with sidereal eyes,     Brow-bound and shod with elemental fire,     Beckoning us onward like the god Desire.     Brisk blew the breeze; and through the starry gloam,     Flung from our prow, flew white the furrowed foam.     Long, long we sailed; and now have reached our goal.     Come, let us rest us here and call the roll.     How few we are! Alas, alas, how few!     How many perished! Every storm that blew     Swept from our deck or from our staggering mast     Some well-loved comrade in the boiling vast.     Wildly we saw them sink beneath our prow,     Helpless to aid; pallid of face and brow,     Lost in the foam we saw them sink or fade     Beneath the tempest's rolling cannonade.     They sank; but where they sank, above the wave     A corposant danced, a flame that marked their grave;     And o'er the flame, whereon were fixed our eyes,     An albatross, huge in volcanic skies.     They died; but not in vain their stubborn strife,     The zeal that held them onward, great of life:     They too are with us; they, in spite of death,     Have reached here first. Upon our brows their breath     Breathes softly, vaguely, sweetly as the breeze     From isles of spice in summer-haunted seas.     From palaces and pinnacles of mist     The sunset builds in heaven's amethyst     Beyond yon headland where the billows break,     Perhaps they beckon now; the winds that shake     These tamarisks, that never bowed to storm,     Haply are but their voices filled with charm     Bidding us rest from labor; toil no more;     Draw up our vessel on the happy shore;     And of the lotus of content and peace,     Growing far inland, eat, and never cease     To dream the dreams that keep the heart still young,     Hearing forever how the foam is flung     Beneath the cliff; forgetting all life's care;     Easing the soul of all its long despair.     Let us forget how once within that barque,     Like some swift eagle sweeping through the dark,     We weighed the sun; we weighed the farthest stars;     Traced the dim continents of fiery Mars;     Measured the vapory planets whose long run     Takes centuries to gird their glimmering sun:     Let us forget how oft the crystal mountains     Of the white moon we searched; and plumbed her fountains,     That hale the waters of the onian deep     In ebb and flow, and in her power keep:     Let us remember her but as a gem,     A mighty pearl, placed in Night's anadem:     Let us forget how once we pierced the flood,     Fathorned its groves of coral, red as blood,     Branching and blooming underneath our keel,     Through which like birds the nautilus and eel,     The rainbowed conch and irised fishes swept,     And where the sea-snake like a long weed slept.     Here let us dream our dreams: let Helen bare     Her white breast for us; and let Dido share     Her rich feast with us; or let Lalage     Laugh in our eyes as once, all lovingly,     She laughed for Flaccus. We are done with all     The lusts of life! its loves are ours. Let fall     The Catilines! the Csars! and in Gaul     Their legions perish! And let Phillip's son     In Ammon's desert die; and never a one     Lead back to Greece of all his conquering line     From gemmed Hydaspes.     Here we set our shrine!     Here on this headland templed of God's peaks,     Where Beauty only to our worship speaks     Her mighty truths, gazing beyond the shore     Into the heart of God: her eyes a door     Wherethrough we see the dreams, the mysteries,     That grew to form in the Art that once was Greece:     Making them live once more for us, the shapes     That filled the woods, the mountains, and the capes     Of Hellas: Dryad, Oread, and Faun;     Naiad and Nereid, and all the hosts of Dawn.