Hymn to the Ocean
Roll on vasty Ocean!
Like mountains in motion
Your grey waters rise
Till they melt in the skies,
And mingle the azure of Heav'n with their own;
'Mid the roll of her drums
Queen Amphitrite comes,
And her white horses prance
In an Apennine dance,
As they wheel her about on her hollow-shell throne!
O'er the green furrows dashing,
Thro' the heavy ooze splashing,
Down the snow-hillocks sliding,
In the vallied deeps hiding,
They mark out their flight in a pathway of foam:
The gleaming-hair'd Daughters
And Sons of the Waters,
With shout follow after,
With song and with laughter, —
Then sink all at once to their coralline home.
Foot and foot far asunder,
Wind-Gods step in thunder
From billow to billow,
Kicking up a white pillow
For him who will sleep stiff and stark on the sea!
Viewless and vapoury,
Their sea-green drapery
Down their backs flowing
Keep the gazer from knowing
Of what form, of what face, of what fashion they be!
How glorious the sight!
But no less than the Night
From her couch up-risen
Like the Moon out of prison
To roam her wild hour, her lone vigil to keep, —
O'er the still waters blazing,
Where the green stars are gazing,
As if each were an eye
Of a creature on high,
That saw such a gem as itself in the deep.
Then, then the low tolling
Of swift waves wide rolling,
And whelming and coiling; —
Like a serpent-brood boiling
In Hell's ample cauldron, they writhe and they hiss!
S IN'S Son laughs to hear it,
And longs to be near it,
That for each whishing eddy
He might have a ship ready
To heave with a — Ho! down the joyous abyss!
O this is the hour
To look out from the tower,
Looming dim o'er the surge,
And behold how they urge,
The rack-riders each, his blue courser afar:
How in ranks o'er the plain
Of the steadiless main,
They tilt and they joust
Till they're scattered to dust,
With a roar that rings round the wild Ocean of war!
Yet wend thee there too
When the calm sea is blue,
When the sweet summer-wave
Has forgotten to rave,
And smooth o'er its ripple the Mer-maiden glides;
Thine eyes at the sight
Will half-close with delight,
For in rage or at rest,
Like a proud beauty's breast,
A charm with great Ocean forever abides!
Like mountains in motion
Your grey waters rise
Till they melt in the skies,
And mingle the azure of Heav'n with their own;
'Mid the roll of her drums
Queen Amphitrite comes,
And her white horses prance
In an Apennine dance,
As they wheel her about on her hollow-shell throne!
O'er the green furrows dashing,
Thro' the heavy ooze splashing,
Down the snow-hillocks sliding,
In the vallied deeps hiding,
They mark out their flight in a pathway of foam:
The gleaming-hair'd Daughters
And Sons of the Waters,
With shout follow after,
With song and with laughter, —
Then sink all at once to their coralline home.
Foot and foot far asunder,
Wind-Gods step in thunder
From billow to billow,
Kicking up a white pillow
For him who will sleep stiff and stark on the sea!
Viewless and vapoury,
Their sea-green drapery
Down their backs flowing
Keep the gazer from knowing
Of what form, of what face, of what fashion they be!
How glorious the sight!
But no less than the Night
From her couch up-risen
Like the Moon out of prison
To roam her wild hour, her lone vigil to keep, —
O'er the still waters blazing,
Where the green stars are gazing,
As if each were an eye
Of a creature on high,
That saw such a gem as itself in the deep.
Then, then the low tolling
Of swift waves wide rolling,
And whelming and coiling; —
Like a serpent-brood boiling
In Hell's ample cauldron, they writhe and they hiss!
S IN'S Son laughs to hear it,
And longs to be near it,
That for each whishing eddy
He might have a ship ready
To heave with a — Ho! down the joyous abyss!
O this is the hour
To look out from the tower,
Looming dim o'er the surge,
And behold how they urge,
The rack-riders each, his blue courser afar:
How in ranks o'er the plain
Of the steadiless main,
They tilt and they joust
Till they're scattered to dust,
With a roar that rings round the wild Ocean of war!
Yet wend thee there too
When the calm sea is blue,
When the sweet summer-wave
Has forgotten to rave,
And smooth o'er its ripple the Mer-maiden glides;
Thine eyes at the sight
Will half-close with delight,
For in rage or at rest,
Like a proud beauty's breast,
A charm with great Ocean forever abides!
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