Written on board the Sully, on a return voyage from France, July,
1831.
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep,
Father, protect me while I sleep;
Secure I rest upon the wave,
For thou my God hast power to save.
I know thou wilt not slight my call,
For thou dost mark the sparrow's fall,
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep.
And such the trust that still were mine,
Tho' stormy winds swept o'er the brine;
Or tho' the tempest's fiery breath
Rous'd me from sleep to wreck and death,
In ocean-cave, still safe with thee,
The germ of immortality,
And sweet and peaceful is my sleep,
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep.
* * * * *
The following was written soon after the intelligence of Lafayette's
death reached this country. At the public examination of the young
ladies under my charge, they appeared in mourning, on the last day,
August 5th, on account of the death of our country's father, and also
on that of the death of two of their former school companions. At the
close of the school exercises, the little poem in blank verse, was
read by one of their number, and the dirge, with a plaintive
accompaniment on the harp and piano, was sung. It may be thought
strange that I should venture to produce this, when the performances
of such eminent men as Messrs. Everett and Adams are before the
public.[1] But the incidents of the life of Lafayette are so well
known, that it appears to me only necessary to give to memory the
key-note and excite her to use her own powers; and to this end a
poetic diction gives to the writer some advantages, as it admits of
greater condensation of narrative, of thought, and feeling.
[Footnote 1: This was prepared for the Messenger before the number was
received containing the critique on those publications.]