X. COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SHORE. WHAT mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret, Daily to think on old familiar doors, Hearths loved in childhood, and ancestral floors; Which with the dear Betrothed was to come, Or in a dream recalled, whose smoothest range. A less imperious sympathy is due, Such as my verse now yields, while moonbeams play Such as will promptly flow from every breast, XI. THE Crescent-moon, the Star of Love, With but a span of sky between, Speak one of you, my doubts remove, Which is the attendant Page and which the Queen? XII. TO THE MOON. (Composed by the Sea-side, on the Coast of Cumberland.) WANDERER! that stoop'st so low, and com'st so near To human life's unsettled atmosphere; Who lov'st with Night and Silence to partake, So might it seem, the cares of them that wake; I slight them all; and, on this sea-beat shore That bid me hail thee as the SAILOR'S FRIEND; So call thee for Heaven's grace through thee made known, By confidence supplied and mercy shown, And for less obvious benefits, that find Their way, with thy pure help, to heart and mind; Both for the adventurer starting in life's prime, And veteran ranging round from clime to clime, Long-baffled hope's slow fever in his veins, And wounds and weakness oft his labor's sole remains. The aspiring Mountains and the winding Streams, Empress of Night! are gladdened by thy beams; A look of thine the wilderness pervades, And penetrates the forest's inmost shades; And lives there one, of all that come and go One, who has watched thee at some quiet hour, Enthroned aloft in undisputed power, Or crossed by vapory streaks and clouds that move Catching the lustre they in part reprove, Nor sometimes felt a fitness in thy sway To call up thoughts that shun the glare of day, And make the serious happier than the gay? Yes, lovely Moon! if thou so mildly bright Dost rouse, yet surely in thy own despite, To fiercer mood the frenzy-stricken brain, Let me a compensating faith maintain ; That there's a sensitive, a tender part Which thou canst touch in every human heart, For healing and composure. But, as least And mightiest billows ever have confessed Thy domination; as the whole vast Sea Feels through her lowest depths thy sovereignty ; So shines that countenance with especial grace On them who urge the keel her plains to trace, Furrowing its way right onward. The most rude, Cut off from home and country, may have stood, Even till long gazing hath bedimmed his eye, Or the mute rapture ended in a sigh, Touched by accordance of thy placid cheer, With some internal lights to memory dear, Or fancies stealing forth to soothe the breast, Tired with its daily share of earth's unrest, Gentle awakenings, visitations meek; A kindly influence whereof few will speak, Though it can wet with tears the hardiest cheek. And when thy beauty in the shadowy cave Is hidden, buried in its monthly grave; Then, while the Sailor, 'mid an open sea Swept by a favoring wind that leaves thought free, Paces the deck, no star perhaps in sight, And nothing save the moving ship's own light 1835. XIII. TO THE MOON. (RYDAL.) QUEEN of the stars! so gentle, so benign, |