THE sours INVOCATION 337
Glares on the wave ; and, as I go,
Each glides behind me, till the row
Dwindles at last to two or three —
Beyond, illimitable sea.
Now, at the last revolving light,
The gray expanse grows dark with night ;
I see the fast receding shore ;
I hear the distant breakers roar ;
And soon, on greater billows tossed,
Like one who hath some causeway crossed,
I see the glowing path behind,
With its long row of lanterns lined.
Where the lights blend their colored rays,
Outstretched in long, continuous blaze.
Before me all is hid from sight
By brooding mists, a moonless night,
Floods fathomless and infinite.
��And now, how shall I find my way, Shut from the light of cheerful day ? When storms arise and tempests blow, Without a pilot must I go ? Fierce raging, passion's tempest-brood Raise hurricanes upon the flood, And mountain waves that round me sweep Toss my frail vessel on the deep, Wash from life's blasted bark the helm, And in their trough my decks o'erwhelm. Lo, amongst craggy islands lost. By contrary currents wildly tossed, No helper near, no beacon guide, Toward Destruction's rocks I ride. And now even courage, trembling, quails ; Wrenched from the yards, the shattered sails Fly drifting with the wind ;
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