Choice Specimens of American Literature, and Literary Reader Part 48

=_James G. Percival, 1786-1856._= (Manual, p. 515.)

=_328._= THE CORAL GROVE.

Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove; Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with the falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and gla.s.sy brine.

The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, And the pearl-sh.e.l.ls spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks, the sea-plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow; The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air.

There, with its waving blade of green, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter.

There, with a light and easy motion, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea, And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean Are bending like corn on the upland lea, And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone.

=_Richard H. Dana, 1787-._= (Manual, pp. 501, 504, 514.)

From "The Buccaneer."

=_329._=

A sweet, low voice, in starry nights, Chants to his ear a 'plaining song; Its tones come winding up the heights, Telling of woe and wrong; And he must listen, till the stars grow dim, The song that gentle voice doth sing to him.

O, it is sad that aught so mild Should bind the soul with bands of fear; That strains to soothe a little child The man should dread to hear!

But sin hath broke the world's sweet peace, unstrung The harmonious chords to which the angels sung.

But he no more shall haunt the beach, Nor sit upon the tall cliff's crown, Nor go the round of all that reach, Nor feebly sit him down, Watching the swaying weeds; another day, And he'll have gone far hence that dreadful way.

To-night the charmed number's told.

"Twice have I come for thee," it said.

"Once more, and none shall thee behold.

Come, live one, to the dead!"

So hears his soul, and fears the coming night, Yet sick and weary of the soft, calm light.

Again he sits within that room; All day he leans at that still board; None to bring comfort to his gloom, Or speak a friendly word.

Weakened with fear, lone, haunted by remorse, Poor, shattered wretch, there waits he that pale horse.

=_Richard Henry Wilde, 1789-._= (Manual, pp. 521, 501.)

=_330._= MY LIFE IS LIKE THE SUMMER ROSE.

My life is like the summer rose That opens to the morning sky, But, ere the shades of evening close, Is scattered on the ground to die; Yet on that rose's humble bed The softest dews, of night are shed, As if she wept such waste to see; But none shall drop a tear for me.

My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moon's pale ray; Its hold is frail, its state is brief, Restless, and soon to pa.s.s away; But when that leaf shall fall and fade, The parent tree will mourn its shade, The winds bewail the leafless tree; But none shall breathe a sigh, for me.

My life is like the print which feet Have left on Tampa's desert strand; Soon as the rising tide shall beat, Their track will vanish from the sand; Yet, as if grieving to efface All vestige of the human race, On that lone sh.o.r.e loud moans the sea; But none shall thus lament for me.

=_James A. Hillhouse, 1789-1844._= (Manual, p. 487.)

From "Hadad."

=_331._=

_Hadad._ Confide in me.

I can transport thee, O, to a paradise To which this Canaan is a darksome span.

Beings shall welcome, serve thee, lovely as angels; The elemental powers shall stoop, the sea Disclose her wonders, and receive thy feet Into her sapphire chambers; orbed clouds Shall chariot thee from zone to zone, while earth, A dwindled, islet, floats beneath thee. Every Season and clime shall blend for thee the garland.

The Abyss of time shall cast its secrets, ere The flood marred primal nature, ere this...o...b..Stood in her station. Thou shalt know the stars, The houses of eternity, their names, Their courses, destiny--all marvels high.

_Tam._ Talk not so madly.

From "The Judgment."

=_332._=

As, when from some proud capital that crowns Imperial Ganges, the reviving breeze Sweeps the dank mist, or h.o.a.ry river fog Impervious mantled o'er her highest towers, Bright on the eye rush Bramah's temples, capp'd With spiry tops, gay-trellised minarets, PaG.o.ds of gold, and mosques with burnish'd domes, Gilded, and glistening in the morning sun, So from the hill the cloudy curtains roll'd, And, in the lingering l.u.s.tre of the eve, Again the Saviour and his seraphs shone.

Emitted sudden in his rising, flash'd Intenser light, as toward the right hand host Mild turning, with a look ineffable, The invitation he proclaim'd in accents Which on their ravish'd ears pour'd thrilling, like The silver sound of many trumpets, heard Afar in sweetest jubilee: then, swift Stretching his dreadful sceptre to the left, That shot forth horrid lightnings, in a voice Clothed but in half its terrors, yet to them Seem'd like the crush of heaven, p.r.o.nounced the doom.

The sentence utter'd as with life instinct, The throne uprose majestically slow; Each angel spread his wings; in one dread swell Of triumph mingling as they mounted, trumpets And harps, and golden lyres, and timbrels sweet, And many a strange and deep-toned instrument Of heavenly minstrelsy unknown on earth, And angels' voices, and the loud acclaim Of all the ransom'd like a thunder shout, Far through the skies melodious echoes roll'd And faint hosannas distant climes return'd.

=_John M. Harney,[79] 1789-1855._=

From "Crystallina: a Fairy Tale."

=_333._=

On the stormy heath a ring they form; They place therein the fearful maid, And round her dance in the howling storm.

The winds beat hard on her lovely head: But she clasped her hands, and nothing said.

O, 'twas, I ween, a ghastly sight To see their uncouth revelry.

The lightning was the taper bright, The thunder was the melody, To which they danced with horrid glee.

The fierce-eyed owl did on them scowl, The bat played round on leathern wing, The coal-black wolf did at them howl, The coal-black raven did croak and sing, And o'er them flap his dusky wing.

An earthquake heaved beneath their feet, Pale meteors revelled in the sky, The clouds sailed by like a routed fleet, The night-winds shrieked as they pa.s.sed by, The dark-red moon was eclipsed on high.

[Footnote 79: One of the earliest poets of the West, but a native of Delaware.]