Philadelphia.
"_The Calm._
"Hush! hark! the Triton calls
From his hollow shell,
And the sea is as smooth as a well;
For the winds and the waves
In wild order form,
To rush to the halls
And the crystal-roof'd caves
Of the deep, deep ocean,
To hold consultation
About the next storm.
"The moon sits on the sky
Like a swan sleeping
On the stilly lake:
No wild breath to break
Her smooth _massy_ light
And _ruffle_ it into _beams:_
"The downy clouds droop
Like moss upon a tree;
And in the earth's bosom grope
Dim vapours and streams.
The darkness is weeping,
Oh, most silently!
Without audible sigh,
All is noiseless and bright.
"Still 'tis living silence here,
Such as fills not with fear.
Ah, do you not hear
A humming and purring
All about and about?
'Tis from souls let out,
From their day-prisons freed,
And joying in release,
For no slumber they need.
"Shining through this _veil of peace,_
Love now pours her omnipresence,
And various nature
Feels through every feature
The joy intense,
Yet so _passionless,_
Passionless and pure;
The human mind restless
Long could not endure.
"But hush while I tell,
As the _shrill whispers flutter_
Through the pores of the sea,--
Whatever they utter
I'll interpret to thee.
King Neptune now craves
Of his turbulent vassals
Their workings to quell;
And the billows are quiet,
_Though thinking on riot._
On the left and the right
In ranks they are coil'd up,
{72}
Like snakes on the plain;
And each one has roll'd up
A bright flashing streak
Of the white moonlight
On his glassy green neck:
On every one's forehead
There glitters a star,
With a hairy train
Of light _floating from afar_,
And pale or fiery red.
Now old Eolus goes
To each muttering blast,
Scattering blows;
And some he binds fast
In hollow rocks vast,
And others he gags
With thick heavy foam.
'Twing them round
The sharp rugged crags
That are sticking out near,'
Growls he, 'for fear
They all should rebel,
And so play hell.'
Those that he bound,
Their prison-walls grasp,
And through the dark gloom
Scream fierce and yell:
While all the rest gasp,
In rage fruitless and vain.
Their shepherd now leaves them
To howl and to roar--
Of his presence bereaves them,
To feed some young breeze
On the violet odour,
And to teach it on shore
To rock the green trees.
But no more can be said
Of what was transacted
And what was enacted
In the heaving abodes
Of the great sea-gods."
* * * * *