THE LIGHTHOUSE.

THE rocky ledge runs far into the sea,

And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,

Upheaving, break unheard, along its base, A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides In the white lip and tremor of the face.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, Through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light

With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

Not one alone; from each projecting cape

And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, Starts into life dim, gigantic shape,

Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands

Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, Wading far out among the rocks and sands, The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return, Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,

Though ages long have past

Since our Fathers left their home,
Their pilot in the blast,

O'er untravelled seas to roam,

Yet lives the blood of England in our veins!
And shall we not proclaim

That blood of honest fame
Which no tyranny can tame
By its chains?

While the language free and bold
Which the bard of Avon sung,
In which our Milton told

How the vault of Heaven rung
When Satan, blasted, fell with his host;
While this, with reverence meet,
Ten thousand echoes greet,
From rock to rock repeat

Round our coast;

While the manners, while the arts,

That mould a nation's soul,
Still cling around our hearts,

Between let Ocean roll,

Our joint communion breaking with the Sun:
Yet still from either beach

The voice of blood shall reach,

More audible than speech,

"We are One."

Washington Allston.

THE

THE LIGHTHOUSE.

HE rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,

A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,

Upheaving, break unheard, along its base, A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides In the white lip and tremor of the face.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, Through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light

With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

Not one alone; from each projecting cape

And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,

Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands

Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, Wading far out among the rocks and sands, The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return, Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,

And ever joyful, as they see it burn,

They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,

And eager faces, as the light unveils,

Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,

On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; And when, returning from adventures wild, He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same

Year after year, through all the silent night Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame, Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp

The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace; It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,

And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form

Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
Of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove,
It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
But hails the mariner with words of love.

"Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships!
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,
Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!"
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

SEE

THE STEAMSHIP.

EE how yon flaming herald treads
The ridged and rolling waves,

As, crashing o'er their crested heads,
She bows her surly slaves!
With foam before and fire behind,
She rends the clinging sea,
That flies before the roaring wind,
Beneath her hissing lee.

The morning spray, like sea-born flowers,
With heaped and glistening bells,
Falls round her fast in ringing showers,
With every wave that swells;
And, flaming o'er the midnight deep,

In lurid fringes thrown,

The living gems of ocean sweep

Along her flashing zone.