THE VALE OF LAMHERNE, 167 



With rapture, gleam in death when lowly laid, 

 And round the burial-stone may ev'n the wild-flower fade I 



Wide yawn the hills, and lo ! the Sea ! the Sea 

 Bursts like a green Elysium without bound ; 

 Huge roll the billows with stupendous glee, 

 Like Mammoths sporting with a thunder-sound ; 

 And hark ! methinks I hear the shrill sea-hound 

 Chasing the Mermaid on from cave to cave, 

 Or howling o'er some hapless seaman drowned : 

 Oh 1 glorious is the peril of the wave, 

 And land-bound here I almost deem myself a slave. 



Oh ! how I love the unconquerable main. 

 Its deep voice like the chorus of the free : 

 Majestic Sea ! that didst in fondness deign 

 To choose Britannia thy espoused to be, 

 Tyre, Carthage, Venice less beloved than she; 

 And while she cherishes her virtuous pride, 

 Nor dallies with insidious Luxury, 

 Will Ocean not forsake his Island bride, 

 And Albion o'er the waves' broad empire still preside. 



Though children of the Sea, *t is fearful thus 

 Low on the level sands to talk with him, 

 Shaking his hoary locks high over us, 

 And now extending wide his billowy limb. 

 Father ! we love thee, though thy looks are grim ; 

 The silvery fringes of thy azure vest 

 Might deck the robes of harmless cherubim; 

 But at a distance still we love thee best. 

 Or in staunch ship secure to lie upon thy breast. 



Yet oh ! vi'hat joy within some sunny creek 

 Naked to wrestle with our surly sire; 

 To feel his cool lip on the fervid cheek, 

 Then to be bufFetted with playful ire, 

 Till with the arduous sport the muscles tire; 

 Then faint reclining on his bosom bland, 

 The fresh cold breath of Ocean to respire, 

 And see the skies in cloudless sheen expand 

 As on a silken couch safe floated to the land. 



