Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Elegy on a Shell—the Nautilus
By Samuel Latham Mitchill (1764–1831)I
As late I walked the oceanic strand,
And as my curiosity was warm,
I took thee in my hand.
Soon I discovered, a terrific storm,
Which nothing human could command,
Had robbed thee of thy life and cast thee on the sand.
Built by a Nautilus or Argonaut,
With fitness, symmetry, and skill,
To suit the owner’s taste and sovereign will.
Surpassing art through centuries of years,
By tints and colors brilliant made,
And all,—the finished workman has displayed.
Where on the bottom groves of coral grow,
And when aweary of thy seat below,
Thee and thy architect the flood uplifted bore.
With guiding oars and elevated sail,
Thou didst enjoy the pleasure-breathing gale,
And in the sea thy healthy body lave.
In which a fair Mollusca used to dwell,
Such as the Harpa, marked with chorded signs,
The Musica, with imitative lines,
The Cowry, with its spots and figures gay,
The Cone, distinguished by its rich array,
The smooth Volute, that glossy beauty bears,
The prized Scalaria, with its winding stairs,
The Murex, famous for its purple dye,
The Trochus, dressed to captivate the eye,
And Buccinum and Strombus, taught to sound
Their signal notes to every region round.
Are vacant dwellings, and their tenants dead,
And though there’s not an occupant alive,
The well cemented tenements survive.
A structure proud for his abode,
But knows not, when of life bereft,
Who’ll creep within the shell he left.