| |
| THE ROCKY ledge runs far into the sea, | |
| And on its outer point, some miles away, | |
| The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry, | |
| A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day. | |
| |
| Even at this distance I can see the tides, | 5 |
| Upheaving, break unheard, along its base, | |
| A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides | |
| In the white lip and tremor of the face. | |
| |
| And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, | |
| Through the deep purple of the twilight air, | 10 |
| Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light | |
| With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare! | |
| |
| Not one alone; from each projecting cape | |
| And perilous reef along the ocean’s verge, | |
| Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape, | 15 |
| Holding its lantern o’er the restless surge. | |
| |
| Like the great giant Christopher it stands | |
| Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, | |
| Wading far out among the rocks and sands, | |
| The night-o’ertaken mariner to save. | 20 |
| |
| And the great ships sail outward and return, | |
| Bending and bowing o’er the billowy swells, | |
| And ever joyful, as they see it burn, | |
| They wave their silent welcomes and farewells. | |
| |
| They come forth from the darkness, and their sails | 25 |
| Gleam for a moment only in the blaze, | |
| And eager faces, as the light unveils, | |
| Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. | |
| |
| The mariner remembers when a child, | |
| On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; | 30 |
| And when, returning from adventures wild, | |
| He saw it rise again o’er ocean’s brink. | |
| |
| Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same | |
| Year after year, through all the silent night | |
| Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame, | 35 |
| Shines on that inextinguishable light! | |
| |
| It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp | |
| The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace; | |
| It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp, | |
| And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece. | 40 |
| |
| The startled waves leap over it; the storm | |
| Smites it with all the scourges of the rain, | |
| And steadily against its solid form | |
| Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. | |
| |
| The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din | 45 |
| Of wings and winds and solitary cries, | |
| Blinded and maddened by the light within, | |
| Dashes himself against the glare, and dies. | |
| |
| A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock, | |
| Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove, | 50 |
| It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock, | |
| But hails the mariner with words of love. | |
| |
| “Sail on!” it says, “sail on, ye stately ships! | |
| And with your floating bridge the ocean span; | |
| Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse, | 55 |
| Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!” | |
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