Poems (Edwards)/The Shipwreck
THE SHIPWRECK.
The wind was loud and the night was dark, And the waves beat high 'round a ship at sea,The moon was hid 'neath an angry cloud, And no light shone on the distant lea;The gallant crew in that noble ship For a moment gazed on the far-off shore,Then looked on the waves that soon must shroud, That ship and crew in their ceaseless roar.
The surf-sprites shrieked with fiendish joy, And clapped their hands as they rode on the wave,"There is room," they cried, "in the dark deep sea, There is room enough for each mariner's grave;Old Neptune waits in his jewelled grot, To welcome his guest to the emerald sea,And we've come to light you down to your home, Make haste, make haste. we wait for thee.
The storm-king trod like a giant bold, The rushing main, and his step was proud,As he trampled the trembling mariners down, And wrapped them up in their watery shroud;The lover went to his emerald home, With his loved one near him, side by side,They sank to rest, they had loved in life, And death would not their fates divide.
Wave after wave o'er the deck dashed by, While the ship was stayed on a coral reef,But the tide at length on the ocean fell, And the wind was heard like a sigh of grief;The storm-king sunk in the sea to rest, The surf-sprites went to their homes in the deep,They wrapped the sea-weed around the dead, And laid them down in their caves to sleep.
Old Neptune rose from his jasper throne, And welcomed the dead to his sea-girt home,"Come in," he cried, "for where could ye find A fairer land or a costlier dome? Here are gems to deck each mariner's bed, Here are jewels washed from a distant shore,And the ocean surge, like a weeping friend, Shall chaunt your dirge for evermore."
Not one remained of that noble band, Save a Lover true and his destined Bride,Like wandering doves they sat and mourned O'er their friends that had perished, side by side;And night by night their spirits rose, To call that Lover and loved one away,And the surf-sprite sang on the wreathing surge, And beckoned to them from the dashing spray:
"Come away with us To the deep, deep blue,Your friends are here, They await for you;In their coral caves, They have waited long, O! come at the call Of our spirit song;There are jewelled beds Where the weary rest,With the sea-weed wrapped O'er each silent breast;The ocean wave Shall your requiem sing;Its wild sweet notes Shall forever ring;Come, come away From the upper air,Leave all your cares And sorrows there;Weep not for the dead, From pain they are free,They sleep in peace 'Neath the rolling sea;They have called you long, From their emerald bed,Will you come and rest With the peaceful dead?"
The song was hushed, and its cadence fell Like an angel's whisper, soft and low,On the waves it sweetly re-echoed back And mingled with ocean's eternal roar;Zotilla heard with a throbbing heart, The summons that called her soul away,"I will go," she said, "to my ocean grave, For here no longer do I wish to stay."
With a faltering lip and a trembling hand, She wakened her harp, so long unstrung,And thus, as she sat by her Lover's side, This mournful song she sweetly sung:
"I am coming soon to your peaceful home, Dear Friends! in the deep, deep blue,I am failing fast, I shall rest ere long, 'Neath the rolling waves with you;I have clung to life—to this fleeting life, With affection fond and true,But ye have departed, and now I come To rest in the ocean too; I shall bring with me my early Choice, We must journey hand in hand,We have loved in life, and we would not part As we enter the spirit land;I have heard you call from your ocean beds, From your shrouds in the cave so deep,Dear Parents! Sisters! I shall come ere long, In the arms of death to sleep;I am failing fast, and I soon shall rest In peace 'neath the snow-white foam,But my spirit shall rise from its lowly bed And find in Heaven a home."
Zotilla laid her harp aside, And her brow was calm and pale,Her voice in melting music died On the breath of the evening gale;The Lovers stood on the silent deck, And gazed on the far-off west,Where the golden sun on his crimson couch, Had gone to his nightly rest.
Bodiah smiled, for he thought of home And the friends who were waiting there,And a gentle hope in his bosom rose Like the glow of the evening star;"Home, pleasant home," Zotilla sighed, As she looked on his love-lit eye,"Bodiah! dream of thy home no more, 'Tis away in yon azure sky.I know 'tis pleasant to think of home, Where thy loved ones are 'waiting thee,But the friends who lighted our early home, Are they not in the deep, deep sea?We have suffered much in this fearful ship, But relief will come ere long,Trust then in Him who will be your stay, O! suffer and be strong."Bodiah turned with a tear-dimmed eye To the Fair One at his side,And he strove, but strove in vain, from her His anguish deep to hide; "Ah! must I leave thee all alone, Without one kind friend near,To wipe from thy brow the dew of death, Or dry the burning tear?"
"Oh! mourn not thus," cried the faithful Maid, As she pillowed his head on her breast,"A few more moments of suffering here, And thy soul shall find its rest;I shall follow you soon to the rolling deep, Where sleep the good and the brave;The surge shall be our winding sheet, And the ocean bed our grave."
The morning rose, and the ship went down, As the waves around it fell,It sank in the waters dark and deep, Where fearful monsters dwell;The sunbeams rose on the heaving tide, And sparkled like jewels bright,The sea-bird moved o'er the golden waves, And basked in the streaming light.
The surf-sprite sat on the jewelled foam, And chanted the Lovers' dirge,Its notes so wild, so full and sweet, Were heard o'er the murmuring surge:"Weep not for the dead, They are happy now,Where the sea-weed twines Round their youthful brow;I have laid them down In old ocean's cave,With the friends they loved, In the self-same grave;I have strewed o'er their bosoms Jewels rare,And left them to slumber Peacefully there;Weep not for the dead, They have passed awayTo a brighter sky And a purer day; The ocean wave Shall forever sing,In thundering notes, Their requiem;'Till the trumpet sounds To call the deadFrom their coral graves In the ocean bed."