| |
| SNOW 1 hides the green mountain, | |
| Beneath its white billow; | |
| And chill’d is the fountain, | |
| And leafless the willow: | |
| The tempest, loud swelling, | 5 |
| Now drives along, dreary; | |
| Before the storm, yelling, | |
| The sea-mew flies, weary, | |
| And, cowering, seeks shelter, from ocean’s wild roar. | |
| While billows are bounding, | 10 |
| O’er rude rocks, surrounding | |
| The long sandy beach, and the craggy lee-shore. | |
| Where now does the bark ride, | |
| The wild water braving? | |
| Where now, o’er the dark tide, | 15 |
| The gay streamer waving? | |
| And where now, so fearless, | |
| The mariner, helming, | |
| ’Mid clouds, dark and cheerless, | |
| And ocean o’erwhelming? | 20 |
| Where now is the heart of that mariner brave? | |
| That bark is dismasted! | |
| That mariner blasted! | |
| That streamer has drunken the wild water-wave! | |
| |
| O’er breakers, loud crashing, | 25 |
| The waves fiercely bound her; | |
| While rude billows, dashing, | |
| In riot, roll round her. | |
| Go, helmsman, mid ocean, | |
| Thine arm now must save thee! | 30 |
| Oh! kiss with devotion, | |
| The pledge, that she gave thee, | |
| Who ne’er may behold thee, her sailor, again! | |
| Think of her, who is dearest, | |
| When danger is nearest, | 35 |
| Then plunge thy bold form, in the rough, rolling main! | |
| |
| Now tall waves dash o’er him, | |
| Ah! vainly contending; | |
| Hope sinks fast, before him; | |
| His struggles are ending. | 40 |
| Now, waves, gently growing, | |
| Seem rising to save him; | |
| Now, o’er the beach, flowing, | |
| More softly they lave him: | |
| His motionless corse, on the lone shore, they lay. | 45 |
| Rude waves, loudly roaring, | |
| Along the strand, pouring, | |
| Now bear him again, o’er the watery way! | |
| Again rise the surges; | |
| Again they restore him: | 50 |
| Again the wave urges | |
| Its refluence o’er him! | |
| Who, reckless of danger, | |
| Now braves, ’mid the ocean? | |
| How wild looks the stranger! | 55 |
| How frantic his motion! | |
| He rescues the corse, from the rough rolling wave! | |
| The strand, for its pillow, | |
| From out the salt billow, | |
| He rescues the corse—but it is not to save! | 60 |
| |
| There stands, dark and lonely, | |
| The plunderer’s dwelling; | |
| He seeks the strand only | |
| When sea-mews are yelling. | |
| When, ’mid the storm howling, | 65 |
| No star is seen beaming, | |
| The wretch then is prowling; | |
| The false fire is gleaming, | |
| To lead the poor mariner, on to his doom! | |
| When waves bear him, senseless, | 70 |
| He robs the defenceless, | |
| And plunges the corse, in the billowy tomb! | |
| The foul hearted demon, | |
| The sailor despoiling, | |
| Now rends, from the seaman, | 75 |
| The fruit of his toiling! | |
| O’er wild ocean, braving, | |
| Hard earn’d was the treasure, | |
| Through tempest, loud raving; | |
| Though toiling was pleasure, | 80 |
| For her, who was dear, to the mariner bold. | |
| The fierce hand, unsparing, | |
| Now rudely is tearing | |
| The poor humble garb from the corse that is cold! | |
| The pledge of devotion | 85 |
| Thine arm still is wearing! | |
| That pledge, ’mid the ocean, | |
| Gave heart to thy daring. | |
| When eyes, brightly beaming, | |
| Have ever beset thee; | 90 |
| When false fears were dreaming, | |
| Thy girl would forget thee; | |
| It brighten’d thy love, and it solaced thy fears: | |
| For, the girl, who was dearest, | |
| When danger was nearest, | 95 |
| There bound the fair pledge, and bedew’d it with tears. | |
| |
| The eye of the demon | |
| Glares, horrid, in pleasure; | |
| Poor, heart-sunken seaman! | |
| He grasps at thy treasure! | 100 |
| And shall he bereave thee? | |
| Thy darling pledge sever? | |
| And cruelly leave thee? | |
| No, mariner, never! | |
| The tall wave indignantly rolls to the shore! | 105 |
| The arm of the Thunderer | |
| Seizes the plunderer! | |
| Floods overwhelm him! he rises no more! | |
| |
| The refluent billow | |
| Now leaves the beach, waveless; | 110 |
| The flood is the pillow | |
| Of mariner, graveless. | |
| But, mark the wave, stranding, | |
| More boldly aspiring; | |
| The mariner landing, | 115 |
| Then slowly retiring! | |
| The plunderer comes not along with the tide! | |
| The shark is heard, dashing, | |
| Amid the wave, splashing! | |
| The froth of the billow with crimson is dyed! | 120 |
| While chill blasts are blowing, | |
| Who, o’er the corse, gazes? | |
| His garb, round it, throwing, | |
| The sailor he raises. | |
| From winds, cold and storming, | 125 |
| The stranger has borne him; | |
| The blaze, kindly warming, | |
| To life, shall return him: | |
| The stranger shall aid him, the stranger defend. | |
| His pulse now is flowing, | 130 |
| His bosom is glowing; | |
| He ne’er shall forget the poor mariner’s friend. | |
| |
| The white winter billow | |
| Has left the green mountain; | |
| Now leaves dress the willow; | 135 |
| Now ripples the fountain. | |
| Where tempests were swelling, | |
| Soft breezes are sweeping, | |
| The sea-mew, late yelling, | |
| Is, ’neath the rock, sleeping; | 140 |
| The sailor is far from the rough rolling main. | |
| The girl, that was dearest, | |
| When danger was nearest, | |
| Now holds to her bosom, her sailor again! | |
