Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 28 1830.pdf/3



Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old, Midst wrecks where the brave have striven; —The Deep is a strong and a fearful hold, But thou its bars hast riven.

A wild and weary life is thine, A wasting toil and lone! Though the treasure-grots for thee may shine, To all besides unknown.

A weary life!—but a swift decay Soon, soon shall set thee free; Thou art passing fast from the strife away— Thou wrestler with the sea!

In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek, Well are the death-signs read: —Go! for the pearl in its cavern seek, Ere hope and power be fled!

And bright in Beauty's coronal That glistening gem shall be; A star to all in the festive hall— But who shall think on thee?

None!—as it gleams from the queen-like head, Not one midst throngs will say, "A life hath been like a rain-drop shed,    For that pale, quivering ray."

Woe! for the wealth so dearly bought! —And are not those like thee, Who win for earth the gems of thought, O wrestler with the sea?

Down to the gulphs of the soul they go, Where the passion-fountains burn, Gathering the jewels far below From many a buried urn:

Wringing from lava-veins the fire That o'er bright words is pour'd; Learning deep sounds, that make the lyre A spirit in each chord!

But oh! the price of bitter tears Paid for the lonely power, That throws at last, o'er desert-years, A darkly-glorious dower!

As flower-seeds far by the wild wind spread, So precious thoughts are strew'd; —The soul, whence those high gifts are shed, May faint in solitude.

And who will think, when the strain is sung Till a thousand hearts are stirr'd, What life-drops, from the minstrel wrung, Have gush'd with every word?

None! none!—his treasures live like thine, He strives and dies with thee; —Thou that hast been to the pearl's dark shrine, O wrestler with the sea!