234 A BURIAL AT SEA. 



That shewed through all a darker line 

 Where land and water intertwine, 

 And, hid in gloom, each frolic spray 

 From waves and coral in their play. 

 Yet, though that beach was low and dark, 

 More low and blacker loomed our bark : 

 You might have thought the Water Snake 

 Lay sleeping on his dormant lake, 

 And shunned a fang less dread and near 

 Than lurked within her masked tier. 

 Unless when vapours flitting by 

 Shone o'er the gilded vanes on high ; 

 Or when at times might intervene 

 The challenge of the grey marine, 

 That burst upon some startled crew, 

 Of Negro fisher's light canoe ; 

 So silent all and dark and drear 

 She floated like the Spectres' bier. 



Is there on earth's wide range a spot, 

 A sea, a shore, where death is not ? 

 Wherever man draws vital breath, 

 In wilds or cities, there is death ! 

 His hosts the world, his inns the graves, 

 His lonesome haunts the untrodden waves. 

 Unseen, to night, his pampered gear 

 Yet be not startled Death is here ! 

 Yes he hath stalked along the wave 

 And cited home the young and brave. 

 Tis meet a mother's tears should flow 

 The warrior's heart feels sterner woe, 

 When youth in Freedom's cause, at sea, 

 Quits life for immortality. 

 The flag of night must lower its pride 

 A simple hammock at the side 

 Enough, I tell you how he died. 



Lo ! as a giant, ocean-born, 



Forth from his slumbers walks the morn, 



Gloom, on her night-mist, scowers away, 



And light and life are on the bay. 



It seemed as if the Water Sprite 



Exulted in that living light, 



And early left his coral bed 



To greet the war-ship's pennon red, 



Seen double in the stirless sky 



And on its glossy mirror by. 



It floated not alone ; for, see ! 



A bow-shot from the vessel's side, 

 Another banner o'er the tide 

 Is struggling into rivalry. 



