Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 17 1826/The Sound of the Sea

by Felicia Hemans

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 17, Page 458

THE SOUND OF THE SEA.

Thou art sounding on, thou mighty Sea,
    For ever and the same!
The ancient rocks yet ring to thee,
    Whose thunders nought can tame.

Oh! many a glorious voice is gone
    From the rich bowers of earth,
And hush'd is many a lovely one
    Of mournfulness or mirth.

The Dorian flute, that sigh'd of yore
    Along thy wave, is still;
The harp of Judah peals no more
    On Zion's awful hill:

And Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord
    That breathed the mystic tone,
And the songs, at Rome's high triumphs pour'd,
    Are with her eagles flown:

And mute the Moorish horn, that rang
    O'er stream and mountain free,
And the hymn the leagued Crusaders sang
    Hath died in Galilee.

But thou art swelling on, thou Deep!
    Through many an olden clime,
Thy billowy anthem, ne'er to sleep
    Until the close of Time.

Thou liftest up thy solemn voice
    To every wind and sky,
And all our Earth's green shores rejoice
    In that one harmony!

It fills the noontide's calm profound,
    The sunset's heaven of gold;
And the still midnight hears the sound
    Ev'n as when first it roll'd.

Let there be silence, deep and strange,
    Where crowning cities rose!
Thou speak'st of one that doth not change—
    So may our hearts repose.
⁠F. H.