We heard a chanting in the fog
On the frore face of the sea,
And stay’d the galley like a log
To sound that mystery.
And men throng’d up into the bow
And hail’d the curling rack,
“_What demon or what spirit thou?_”
And the lone voice came back,
Came as of one so evil-starr’d
That he hath done with grief,
In monotone as keen and hard
As the bell swung from a reef:
“Human I am—would I were foam—
Row hither; ye may hear
Yet shall not save nor bring me home
Seek ye a thousand year.”
“_Keep a stout hope._” “I keep no hope.”
“_Man alive_” “Spare your toil—”
“_We are upon thee!_” “Nay, no rope
Over the gap shall coil.”
“_Who art thou?_” “I was Pilot once
On many a ship of mark:
Went aboard—spoke to none—but steer’d;
And dropt off in the dark.
“But one night—Christ!—we struck—we sank.
I reach’d this rock of wings
Whereby from every boulder’s flank
The brown sea-ribbon swings.
“Here, where the sole eye of the Sun
Did scorch my body bare,
A great Sea-Spirit rose, and shone
In the water thrill’d with hair....
“She lay back on the green abyss
Beautiful; her spread arms
Soothed to a poise—a sob—of bliss
Huge thunders and alarms.
“Her breasts as pearl were dull and pure,
Her body’s chasted light
Swam like a cloud; her eyes unsure
From the great depths were bright.
“There was no thing of bitterness
In aught that she could say;
She call’d my soul, as down a coast
The Moon calls bay beyond bay
And they rise—back o’ the uttermost—
Away, and yet away:—
“‘I chose thee from the sinking crews—
I bore thee up alive—
Now durst thou follow me and choose
Under the world to dive?
“‘Come! we will catch when stars are out
The black wave’s spitting crest
And still, when the Bull of Dawn shall spout,
Be washing on abreast;
“‘Or thee a flame under the seas
Paven with suns I’ll hide,
Deathless and boundless and at ease
In any shape to glide.
“‘All waters that on Earth have well’d
At last to me repair,—
All mountains starr’d with cities melt
Into my dreamy air.
“‘Set on thy peak under the brink
I’ll shew thee Storms above,
The stuff of kingdoms:—they shall sink
While thou dost teach me love;
On beaches white as the young Moons
I’ll sit, and fathom love.’”...
· · · · ·
“_And what saidst thou?_” “From over sea
I felt a sighing burn
That made this jagg’d rock seem to me
More delicate than fern;
“And faint as moth-wings I could hear
Tops of the pine-tree sway
And the last words spoken in mine ear
Before the break of day.
“And I cried out agonied at heart
For her that sleeps at home,
‘Brightness, I will not know thine art,
Nor to thy country come!’
“Straightway she sank—smiling so pale—
But from the seethe up-broke—
Never thrash’d off by gust or gale—
White, everlasting smoke.
“It feels all over me with stealth
Of languor that appals;
It laps my fierce heart in a wealth
Of soft and rolling walls;
“This mist no life may pass, save these
Wave-wing’d, with shrieking voice;
Stars I discern not, nor the seas—”
“_O, dost not rue thy choice?_”
“Rue it? Now get back to the Deep,
For I doubt if men ye be:
No;—I must keep a steady helm
By the star I cannot see.”
Passion o’ man! we sprang to oars,
And sought on, weeping loud,
All night in earshot of the shores
But never through the cloud.