Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/74

74 A toiling atom,—then from wave to wave Leaps madly, by the tempest lash'd,—or reels Half wreck'd, through gulfs profound. —Moons wax and wane, But still that lonely traveller treads the deep.— —I see an ice-bound coast toward which she steers With such a tardy movement, that it seems Stern Winter's hand hath turn'd her keel to stone, And seal'd his victory on her slippery shrouds.— —They land!—They land!—not like the Genoese With glittering sword and gaudy train, and eye Kindling with golden fancies.—Forth they come From their long prison,—hardy forms that brave The world's unkindness, —men of hoary hair, And virgins of firm heart, and matrons grave Who hush the wailing infant with a glance.— Bleak Nature's desolation wraps them round, Eternal forests, and unyielding earth, And savage men, who through the thickets peer With vengeful arrow.—What could lure their steps To this drear desert?—Ask of him who left His father's home to roam through Haran's wilds, Distrusting not the Guide who call'd him forth, Nor doubting, though a stranger, that his seed Should be as Ocean's sands.— —But yon lone bark Hath spread her parting sail.— They crowd the strand, Those few, lone pilgrims.—Can ye scan the wo That wrings their bosoms, as the last, frail link Binding to man, and habitable earth Is sever'd ?—Can ye tell what pangs were there,