Poems (Campbell)/Lines written on a Stormy Night
LINES WRITTEN ON A STORMY NIGHT. 1813
Wild o'er the hollow-groaning main Flies furious the Spirit of the storm;Tempests and howling blasts compose his hideous train, And clouds of darkness wrap his giant form.
The billows heaving to the skies, Then tumbling low as many fathoms deep—Mix'd with the horrid roar the drowning seaman's cries, As down he sinks to everlasting sleep!
Be still, my heart,—methinks I hear The shriek of anguish on the moaning gale;And frightful, dismal scenes of pain and death appear, Struggles for parting life, and breathless corses pale!
Oh! wretched she, whose arms no more Shall clasp her son—oh! more than wretched wife,That widow'd long shalt live in anguish to deplore The fate of him far dearer than thy life!
Ye lovely babes! now wrapp'd in sleep, Peaceful and calm, while howls the passing storm!Ah! little do ye dream that the tempestuous deep, Rolls o'er your late fond father's lifeless form.
Oh, hapless maid! who hear'st the crash Of winds and waves, and see'st in Fancy's eyeO'er thy pale lover's corse the foamy billows dash— Doom'd in his death a thousand deaths to die!
If sleep her burning eye lids close, She sees the youth in some mysterious dream,Breathless and pale, while o'er his ghastly visage flows The life-blood mingling with the briny stream.
She starts with horror, and awakes To list the dying gust with deeper dread—The Spirit of the Storm the troubled air forsakes, As loth to break the silence of the dead!
And ye[1] who lately left this shore, Ah! doom'd no more your native shore to see—Your last faint groans were lost amid the tempest's roar, And your cold stormy bed the wintry sea.
Ye sank the victims of the deep, The cruel, treach'rous deep, and ruthless storm!Far, far beneath its waves on coral beds ye sleep, And sea-green plants enshroud each lifeless form.
Ah! never more th' expecting friend Shall greet the luckless Doris' distant sail;Each cherish'd hope, alas! and boding fear must end, As time confirms the melancholy tale.
And thou, oh, Melby! art thou gone— In life's meridian snatch'd so soon away!For thee, but all in vain, love, wealth and pleasure shone, Nor could th' appointed hour one moment stay.
And, Duncan, thou, whose soul refin'd From worldly dross, had long been fix'd above,Far, far beyond the stars, in happier realms to find The beauteous object of thy early love—
Thy spirit 'rapt in praise and pray'r, Serene, though death and horror glar'd around,Consign'd with glowing faith thy babes to Heav'n's sweet care; Then sunk to rest amid the deep profound!
Poor Henderson! sure many storms, Ere this, had pass'd all scathless o'er thy head;But now the fatal blast its destiny performs, And numbers thee too early with the dead.
And ye, a mother's only prop, Kept from her widow'd heart in blooming youth!In your cold wat'ry bed sinks down her ev'ry hope, And the fair promise of your worth and truth.
Hope, too, had whisper'd in thine ear, Ill-fated Angus! many a rapturous taleOf love and joy to come—now on a wat'ry bier Floats thy disfigur'd form all ghastly pale.
Sinclair, in vain thy bride shall wait The sail that wafts thee o'er the wat'ry plain—In place of love, and joy for thee, ah! hapless fate! A grave beneath the dark and stormy main
Oh! my heart bleeds these babes to see, Smiling unconscious of their father's doom:Long shall the prattlers wait to ken with noisy glee The bark that bears the worthy Cragie home.
Oh, lovely infants! 'tis in vain— Your widow'd mother never more shall viewYour fond and worthy sire e'er reach this shore again; His last———it was indeed, a last adieu!
Nor these alone, ah, me! are mourn'd— What other widows, other orphans weepFor those that parted hence, and never more return'd— Rock'd in the waves to everlasting sleep!
But, oh! may Heav'n the healing balm Of peace and comfort pour into their wounds,And through their grief-fraught hearts breathe a pure holy calm, And lift their thoughts beyond earth's narrow bounds.
Now faint and fainter on mine ear Comes the loud ocean-swell, and tempest's roar;Pale in the cloudy east I see the dawn appear And the long Thulean night at length is o'er.
The morning, peering o'er the hill, Tinges with wat'ry light the dark green seas,Whose waves are hush'd to rest, while the wind soft and still Sinks to the whisper of a summer breeze.
So shall another rising day Beam on those eyes clos'd by Death's chilly hand;The world, the mighty deep, and all shall pass away— But they shall live again at God's command.
Oh! may these souls recall'd by Thee, In thy good time to happier life arise,And round thy throne rejoice, from sin and sorrow free, In glorious realms, far, far above the skies!
- ↑ The Doris, of Lerwick, was lost on the coast of Aberdeen, in the month of February, 1813. Besides the pecuniary loss sustained by many of the inhabitants of the Zetland isles, several gentlemen of property, and of the first respectability in the place, were lost; and mothers, wives, and children, were suddenly plunged into distress and sorrow of the most melancholy and afflicting nature.