Like to a sea-bird resting on her wings Urged forward by no effort of her own, But by the forward motion of the waves, The vessel passed! The vessel passed!With folded arms he stood Upon the wild sea-beach and watched the sails, One after one receding from his sight, And from his chosen home. The dark blue waves Swept with a gentle ripple to his feet, And passed in silence on their distant course, As if they knew his utter helplessness, And feeling for his coming agony— Like to magnanimous and generous foes, Scorned to remind him that he was alone. The sea-bird gazed with brightly curious eye Down from her rock-built fortress in the waves, To see what stranger thus presumed to break Her sea-bound solitudes; then drawing back Her slender neck within her sheltered nest, She seemed well satisfied to think, at least, His was no hostile hand. The wild goat came, Gazed for a moment on his moveless form, Then turned away in quietness to seek The scanty herbage growing from the rocks. He heeded not; on pinions fleet as thought, His heart was fluttering round the one white speck That floated in the distance, to his sight Just visible, and seeming like the foam That capped some mountain-wave. He gazed until His eye-balls ached with their intensity, And his strong heart was melted in the gaze, For in that dim and far-off object lay The only link connecting him with life.
Slowly, as if inviting him to take One long, last look at her too graceful spars, Ere from his eager sight they passed away Forever, like the beings of a dream, The vessel disappeared. The vessel disappeared. Would she return? A wild tumultuous hope throbbed at his heart One moment for an entrance, but a strange And sudden sense of freedom sent it back To its abiding place within his heart, A trembling fugitive. For he was free; Free to do what? To climb the precipice, To rival the wild animals in speed, To mock the sea-bird's cry! Yes, he was free To do all these—free to engage in that, Which would not summon forth observant eyes To mark with jealous caution his success. The precipice might throw her ledge of rocks Far out into the ocean; could not he Gain footing there, and seated on its verge, Think over his success and smile to think, That none was there, a witness to the feat?
'Twas for a moment only, and his eye Turned with an eager and remorseful gaze To the far distance, where he last had marked The wanderer of the ocean. Anxiously He scanned the foamy crest of every wave, And found her not. She was no longer there. No more her tapering spars would greet his eyes, Or white sails flutter in the morning-breeze Above his bead; no more the merry song Of the glad sailor-boy would thrill his heart, No more his comrades' voices fill his ear! She was no longer there! Wildly his glance Swept the expanse of ocean! could it be, She would no more return? The night came down, With noiseless footsteps from her upper throne, And folded to her bosom silently, The tranquil island and the heaving sea. The young stars one by one, came forth to gaze, Upon their beauty mirrored in the deep, And rock themselves to sleep upon her breast. Yet sound of lulling waters, nor the watch Of vigil stars, brought slumber to the eyes, Of him, who watched with an untiring gaze The dark expanse of waters. Motionless, Like to a human being turned to stone, Whose heart was throbbing its last feeling out, In painful consciousness within his breast, He sat upon a rock that faced the spot, Where last he saw the vessel disappear. Return, thou truant of the sea, return! What strength but thine, can break the spell that binds, Soul, sense, and motion in its subtle folds!
Morn broke upon the ocean! star by star, Gazed for a moment with retiring glance, Upon the gay young visitant and withdrew, Behind their drapery of shining clouds, Till the next night should call them forth again, To their accustomed watch—yet brought she not, The wished-for object to his straining eye.
Then the full sense of utter loneliness, That his proud spirit would not comprehend Before, came rushing with unmeasured force Into his heart. He was, indeed, alone! Ah! who, even though the world is full of sin, Though falsehood walks about in robes of state, And truth is seldom found, would be alone? No, rather let the sword oppose the sword, Man needs another foeman than himself, He may throw back the exulting tide of war, May stem the current on the battle field, But not the enemies within his heart. Shrinking from his own thoughts, he turns away, And gazing dimly on the far-off sea Of expectation, cheats himself with hope, Like him, who stood upon that lonely shore, And watched for her, who never would return.
Lone dweller of the ocean! hope no more! She whose white sails are spread before the wind, Shall fold them gladly in the port of home, And tell no tale of thee! The light sea-breeze, That fans thy cheek with its reviving breath, And plays among the clusters of thy hair, Shall hear thy tale of muttered agony, And mindless of the suffering it unfolds, Will kiss the brows of those thou lovest well, And breathe no word of thee! The wild, dark wave, That sweeps around thy lonely island home, Shall bear thy message of regret and love To those who watch for thee upon the shore Of far-off Scotland, and shall tell it not! Standing upon thy rocky isle, like him, The last lone being of humanity, Who looks despairing, half in hope, around For some remains of life—thou too dost look For that thou canst not see! Yes, she was gone From that low shore forever! and from him. Who, in his haste to catch the first, fond look Of her expectant and returning sails, Out-stripped the wings of morning, and the steps Of shadowy night, to where the highest rock, Looked farthest out, above the ocean-depths.
Hours came, and passed with heavy steps away, Laden with tears. Days followed in their path, Mournful with sighs; and staggering far behind, As over-burdened with their weight of woe, Years followed after, silent with despair. Yet there were moments, when his softened heart, Softened by tears and eloquent with sighs, Acknowledged it was good to be alone.
Lo! in the hidden depths of solitude, How many a stream breaks forth and fills the air With a sweet voice of melody and love! And in the lonely hours of human life, When like a chained and prisoned being, man Is first compelled to think—how many a fount, Amidst the bitterness that makes the heart Even like a barren desert—gushes forth To light, and life, and energy and love!
When from the far-off island of the sea A strange ship touched the rocky strand, and brought Full many a wondering face upon her deck, They found him not alone. A voice had spoken Amid the silent watches of the night, Within his heart, and chastened it to love. God talked to him, who converse held with none, And when his feet pressed once again the soil Of his own land, and sought his kindred's home, 'Twas with a prayerful and repentant heart.
