TO THE OCEAN.
Hail, glorious Ocean! In thy calm repose
Majestic like a king. The emerald isles
Sleep on thy breast, as though with matron care
Thou in a robe of light didst cradle them,
Hushing the gales that might disturb their rest.
Those chastened waves that in rotation throng
To kiss their chain of sand, methinks they seem
Like pensive teachers, or like eloquent types
Of the brief tenure of terrestrial joy.
Though roused to sudden anger, thou dost change
Thy countenance, and armed with terror, toss
Man's floating castles to the fiery skies:
Yet still thou art his friend. Thy mystic spell
Looseneth the tie of kindred, lures his feet
From earth's green pastures to the slippery shrouds,
Weans his bold spirit from the parent hearth,
Till by the rough and perilous baptism bronzed,
Thou art his priest, his home.
With toil and change
Creation labours. Streams their beds forsake,
Strong mountains moulder—the eternal hills
Leap from their firm foundations—planets fall;
But age thy fearful forehead furroweth not.
Earth's bosom bleeds beneath her warring sons,
The tempest scathes her with a foot of flame,
And her bloom withers; but what eye may trace
Where haughtiest navies poured their hostile wrath
