Classic Poem

With happy hopes, and visage bland,
Did young Fielderius leave the strand;
In a ship, whose sails were flapping free,
As if fond to fly o'er the scaly sea; —
And soon the breast of each spreading sail,
Inhaled the breath of the passing gale;
And the vessel swept o'er the waters blue,
Like an Indian wild, in his light canoe.

But, when afar from the viewless shore,
The angry waves began to roar,
And the hurricane swept through the sky,
Like some destructive spirit nigh: —
The ship leapt high on the swelling spray,
Till each heart was filled with wild dismay;
And the billows dashed o'er the bending deck,
And told the soul of approaching wreck.

The sails were rent by the furious wind,
And flew in tattered shreds behind; —
The masts were split as giant trees,
When struck by the axe of a forest breeze;
The red clouds gathered round his head,
And burst with sounds of deafening dread;
And lightning flashed athwart the sky,
Till frenzy beamed in every eye.

Like mountains high the Sea rolled proud,
And dipt its head in the darkened cloud; —
Then sunk to the cavern's deep abyss,
With hideous sound, like a serpent's hiss:
And wildly the vessel dashed along,
Like a bird in the hand of the Ocean strong,
With wings unplumed and beauty stript,
And thus o'er the billows black it swept.

And now Fielderius on the deck,
Lies clinging firm to the pitching wreck;
His lips are cold and his cheek is pale,
But his ears are shut to the howling gale:
Despair illumes his closing eye,
And his breath emits in a struggling sigh;
And each wave that lashes o'er his brow,
Cools the beating knell of the vital glow.

But the hurricane now has passed along,
And carried the clouds on its pinions strong;
The sky assumes a milder tone,
And the sun now peeps through the azure zone:
The spray showers not so wildly by,
But still the waves are clearing high,
And wild fowls fly with soaring crest,
That dare not light on their troubled breast.

But now the wreck glides smoothly on —
The sea grows weary and weak anon;
Fielderius still all drenched lies,
But now he opes his frantic eyes; —
He feels the vessel rise and fall,
But yet his mind is strange to all;
And in his breast is the struggling gasp,
As he tears his hands from their iron grasp.

He starts upon his feet again,
With clammy limbs and breast of pain;
But all is desolation round,
And save the waves no other sound, —
No seamen hurry o'er the deck,
All, all are swept from the shattered wreck!
But on she bounds to the misty shore,
And his tempest-raging trip is o'er.

And now new vigour fires each vein,
As he leaps upon the shore again;
The panic flies his aching breast,
And his conscious heart is soothed to rest,
But ere he bids the wreck adieu,
He casts his eyes o'er the billows blue;
And standing on the yellow strand,
He thus accosts his Native land:

" Scotland! long wished-for shore, at last
Thy happy soil I tread,
And leave the Ocean, wild and vast
Which fills the soul with dread. —
'Twill cost me many hours of pain,
Ere I shall tempt thy waves again.

" For I have seen thy billows rise
High o'er my aching head,
And gazed on such with frenzied eyes
That solemn lessons read. —
My soul was quaking then with fear,
While I beheld the danger near.

" Oft did I muse on happier days
When I was safe on shore —
When I enjoyed the sunny rays
Of hope, which then seemed o'er;
And on those friends dear to my heart,
With whom I grieved so soon to part.

" But now restored to life again,
I thank that power which saves
Those plodding on the boundless main,
From meeting watery graves. —
To Him, this echo of my love,
Ascend on airy wings above. "