Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/170

170

Some ask'd for new chaplets of gems for their tresses, And some for a mermaid to wait in their cell;— But we know not enough of the fashions and dresses In the court of the deep, all those wishes to tell.—

One nymph, fair Sabrina, seem'd prest with emotion, And last, to the throne of her Sire took her way,— "I am sick, she exclaim'd of these drear halls of Ocean;    Oh!—let me ascend to the empire of Day."

He frown'd—but her tears o'er his footstool were streaming, And stern for his chariot, the signal he gave,— Thick-studded with pearls its pale axle was gleaming, And the hue of its steeds like the foam of the wave.—

Swift, swift through the fathomless regions it bore them, Beneath it, the billows obediently curl'd, It emerged,—and an islet lay verdant before them Where cleaves the Atlantic the zone of the world.—

There Neptune alighted, and scoop'd for his daughter In a rock of white coral, an amber-lined cell, A fountain he fill'd with the purest of water, And gravely, yet tenderly bade her farewell.

The maid of the deep with intense admiration Discover'd what Day in its pageantry gave, And pour'd to the empress of Night, a libation When beam'd her mild ray on the slumbering wave.—

Half hid in her fountain, she gazed with emotion, Then trembling, yet curious, averted her eye,—