Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 28 1830/The Diver
The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 28, Pages 62-63
THE DIVER.—BY FELICIA HEMANS.
Wretched men
Are cradled into poetry by wrong;
They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Thou hast been where the rocks of coral grow,
Thou hast fought with eddying waves;
Thy cheek is pale and thy heart beats low,
Thou searcher of Ocean's caves!
Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old,
Midst wrecks where the brave have striven;
—The Deep is a strong and a fearful hold,
But thou its bars hast riven.
A wild and weary life is thine,
A wasting toil and lone!
Though the treasure-grots for thee may shine,
To all besides unknown.
A weary life!—but a swift decay
Soon, soon shall set thee free;
Thou art passing fast from the strife away—
Thou wrestler with the sea!
In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek,
Well are the death-signs read:
—Go! for the pearl in its cavern seek,
Ere hope and power be fled!
And bright in Beauty's coronal
That glistening gem shall be;
A star to all in the festive hall—
But who shall think on thee?
None!—as it gleams from the queen-like head,
Not one midst throngs will say,
"A life hath been like a rain-drop shed,
For that pale, quivering ray."
Woe! for the wealth so dearly bought!
—And are not those like thee,
Who win for earth the gems of thought,
O wrestler with the sea?
Down to the gulphs of the soul they go,
Where the passion-fountains burn,
Gathering the jewels far below
From many a buried urn:
Wringing from lava-veins the fire
That o'er bright words is pour'd;
Learning deep sounds, that make the lyre
A spirit in each chord!
But oh! the price of bitter tears
Paid for the lonely power,
That throws at last, o'er desert-years,
A darkly-glorious dower!
As flower-seeds far by the wild wind spread,
So precious thoughts are strew'd;
—The soul, whence those high gifts are shed,
May faint in solitude.
And who will think, when the strain is sung
Till a thousand hearts are stirr'd,
What life-drops, from the minstrel wrung,
Have gush'd with every word?
None! none!—his treasures live like thine,
He strives and dies with thee;
—Thou that hast been to the pearl's dark shrine,
O wrestler with the sea!