SABRINA.
"Within the present age, the island of Sabrina, escaping from the grasp of Neptune, raised her head above the Ocean, in the neighbourhood of the Azores, and after holding her station for several years, slipped her cable, and put to sea, on a returnless voyage."
Professor Hall.
One day, as the nymphs of the Ocean disported
Around father Neptune, and touch'd the sweet lyre,—
The old monarch smiled as his favour they courted,
And bade them request what their hearts should desire.
Some ask'd for new chaplets of gems for their tresses,
And some for a mermaid to wait in their cell;—
But we know not enough of the fashions and dresses
In the court of the deep, all those wishes to tell.—
One nymph, fair Sabrina, seem'd prest with emotion,
And last, to the throne of her Sire took her way,—
"I am sick, she exclaim'd of these drear halls of Ocean;
Oh!—let me ascend to the empire of Day."
He frown'd—but her tears o'er his footstool were streaming,
And stern for his chariot, the signal he gave,—
Thick-studded with pearls its pale axle was gleaming,
And the hue of its steeds like the foam of the wave.—
Swift, swift through the fathomless regions it bore them,
Beneath it, the billows obediently curl'd,
It emerged,—and an islet lay verdant before them
Where cleaves the Atlantic the zone of the world.—
There Neptune alighted, and scoop'd for his daughter
In a rock of white coral, an amber-lined cell,
A fountain he fill'd with the purest of water,
And gravely, yet tenderly bade her farewell.
The maid of the deep with intense admiration
Discover'd what Day in its pageantry gave,
And pour'd to the empress of Night, a libation
When beam'd her mild ray on the slumbering wave.—
Half hid in her fountain, she gazed with emotion,
Then trembling, yet curious, averted her eye,—
As the bold sons of earth, on the green breast of Ocean
Beneath the white sail glided gloriously by.
But slowly the seasons their circles would measure
While each from the stores of her ecstacy stole,
Till she mourn'd for the bowers of her infantine pleasure
And wept for her sisters in sadness of soul.
Now,—dark was the desolate face of the Ocean
And frightful the surge of the hollow-voiced main,—
And she learn'd, as she shrank from the billows commotion
That to rove from the sphere of our duty, is pain.
Her isle seem'd a prison,—her fountain a bubble,—
And sick'ning the view of the azure-arch'd skies,
She breathed in the ear of each dolphin her trouble,
And freighted the nautilus' shell with her sighs.
At the news of her anguish, old Neptune relented,
As parents are wont, even when anger is just,
And he said,—"if Sabrina her choice has repented
The halls of her father are free as at first."
He lifted his trident, and wondering Nature
Released the slight isle from her motherly sway,
It leap'd like Strombolo,—and fumed like the crater
Where Ætna with splendor eclipses the day.
It plunged,—and the maiden in fear and in sorrow
Shriek'd loud as she breathed its bituminous air,
The gases sulphuric detected with horror
And pour'd to each god of the waters, her prayer.
But straight to the palace of Neptune 't was tending
As a bark to its haven is gallantly row'd,
For yoked to that islet, his strength freely lending
Was a well-harness'd whale, by a triton bestrode.
To welcome Sabrina with dances and gladness
Her companions came forth from their coral-roof'd bowers,
With smiles and caresses they stifled her sadness,
Brought vases of shell-work, and Ocean's pale flowers.
But Neptune, grave king,—on his bright throne reclining,
Thus caution'd the nymphs and the tritons,—"Beware!
The mind that indulges in causeless repining,
Will still be the same, in earth, ocean, or air."