The Golden Treasury of American Songs and Lyrics Part 8

To England.

I.

Lear and Cordelia! 'twas an ancient tale Before thy Shakespeare gave it deathless fame; The times have changed, the moral is the same.

So like an outcast, dowerless and pale, Thy daughter went; and in a foreign gale Spread her young banner, till its sway became A wonder to the nations. Days of shame Are close upon thee; prophets raise their wail.

When the rude Cossack with an outstretched hand Points his long spear across the narrow sea,-- "Lo! there is England!" when thy destiny Storms on thy straw-crowned head, and thou dost stand Weak, helpless, mad, a by-word in the land,-- G.o.d grant thy daughter a Cordelia be!

[1852.]

II.

Stand, thou great bulwark of man's liberty!

Thou rock of shelter, rising from the wave, Sole refuge to the overwearied brave Who planned, arose, and battled to be free, Fell, undeterred, then sadly turned to thee, Saved the free spirit from their country's grave, To rise again, and animate the slave, When G.o.d shall ripen all things. Britons, ye Who guard the sacred outpost, not in vain Hold your proud peril! Freemen undefiled, Keep watch and ward! Let battlements be piled Around your cliffs; fleets marshalled, till the main Sink under them; and if your courage wane, Through force or fraud, look westward to your child!

[1853.]

G.H. BOKER.

The Wreck of the Hesperus.

It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May.

The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South.

Then up and spake an old Sailr, Had sailed to the Spanish Main, "I pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane.

"Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!"

The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the Northeast, The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast.

Down came the storm, and smote amain The vessel in its strength; She shuddered and paused, like a frightened steed, Then leaped her cable's length.

"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale That ever wind did blow."

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat Against the stinging blast; He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast.

"O father! I hear the church-bells ring, Oh, say, what may it be?"

"'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!"-- And he steered for the open sea.

"O father! I hear the sound of guns, Oh, say, what may it be?"

"Some s.h.i.+p in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea!"

"O father! I see a gleaming light, Oh, say, what may it be?"

But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he.

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, With his face turned to the skies, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fixed and gla.s.sy eyes.

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be; And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave, On the Lake of Galilee.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear, Through the whistling sleet and snow, Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.

And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull.

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board; Like a vessel of gla.s.s, she stove and sank, Ho! ho! the breakers roared!

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast.

The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise.

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow!

Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!

H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Bedouin Song.

From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire, And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.

Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die _Till the sun grows cold,_ _And the stars are old,_ _And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!_

Look from thy window and see My pa.s.sion and my pain; I lie on the sands below, And I faint in thy disdain.

Let the night-winds touch thy brow With the heat of my burning sigh, And melt thee to hear the vow Of a love that shall not die _Till the sun grows cold,_ _And the stars are old,_ _And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!_

My steps are nightly driven, By the fever in my breast, To hear from thy lattice breathed The word that shall give me rest.

Open the door of thy heart, And open thy chamber door, And my kisses shall teach thy lips The love that shall fade no more _Till the sun grows cold,_ _And the stars are old,_ _And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!_

B. TAYLOR.