House by the Sea, The - 9
" Days past, and daily I asked for thee,
Till at last they pointed over the sea,
And said, in the madness of thy despair
Thy bark had followed the red sun there.
For hours they had watched the westward sail
Growing in the distance pale,
And sinking till beyond the line
Of the flaming, sunset-gilded brine
It set, like a star, — and never more
Came tidings of that bark to shore.
" Then with a grief too great for speech,
I wandered daily to the beach
With one companion gray and old,
A reverend friar — who hourly told
His " Aves" as we walked the sand —
And the pious tears, on his sunbrown hand
His old eyes dropped, outcounted the beads
As he thought of my sorrow! My poor heart bleeds
That these tearful eyes shall no more win
A sight of that saintly Capuchin!
" At last we found
A little shallop westward bound;
The daintiest thing that ever yet
Was on the treacherous ocean set.
Under the prow we read her name
Written in ciphers of golden flame, —
" The F IRE B EARER ." Each letter did make,
The semblance of a twisted snake, —
One with the other all intervolved,
Like a riddle that is slowly solved.
" What ails the dame? What thus can make
Her eyes so wide and her limbs to quake? "
The crone replied, with a look of awe,
" Forgive me, lady, I thought I saw —
My sight is dim, —
'Twas a foolish whim, —
But I thought I saw a fiery snake,
A little streak of flame just there
Writhing through your tangled hair! "
The lady smiled, and gathered in
Her tresses betwixTher breast and chin;
And thus pursued the delirious theme,
While Roland listened like one in a dream.
" So near the shallop tacked and sailed,
That in a desperate moment I hailed
The skipper, who leaned against the helm,
Looking the lord of the watery realm.
Round went the rudder, — the sail went round;
And the light bark neared like a leaping hound;
But, seeing what I had done, I sunk
And swooned on the breast of the dear old monk!
" Then, half-awaking, I felt the motion
Beneath me of a summer ocean,
And dimly heard a voice of glee
Singing some ballad about the sea! —
'Twas the skipper's voice, as the helm he prest,
Heading the shallop out to the west!
" The Capuchin was at my side,
Or else for very fear I had died.
There we sat on deck, in the breezy shade
By the one tall lateen canvas made, —
Still flashing on in our track of foam
When the venturous sea-gull turned for home.
" Thus dreamily sitting, for many a day
Under the bow we heard the spray,
And watched our backward path of white,
And gazed on its liquid fire by night.
" Under us eastward the sea went by,
Over us westward went the sky —
The sun and the moon and those silver barks,
Those soul-freighted celestial arks,
The starry fleets of the shoreless night,
Were the only things that surpassed our flight!
As a swallow chases the summer, we sped,
Chasing the days that before us fled. "
Till at last they pointed over the sea,
And said, in the madness of thy despair
Thy bark had followed the red sun there.
For hours they had watched the westward sail
Growing in the distance pale,
And sinking till beyond the line
Of the flaming, sunset-gilded brine
It set, like a star, — and never more
Came tidings of that bark to shore.
" Then with a grief too great for speech,
I wandered daily to the beach
With one companion gray and old,
A reverend friar — who hourly told
His " Aves" as we walked the sand —
And the pious tears, on his sunbrown hand
His old eyes dropped, outcounted the beads
As he thought of my sorrow! My poor heart bleeds
That these tearful eyes shall no more win
A sight of that saintly Capuchin!
" At last we found
A little shallop westward bound;
The daintiest thing that ever yet
Was on the treacherous ocean set.
Under the prow we read her name
Written in ciphers of golden flame, —
" The F IRE B EARER ." Each letter did make,
The semblance of a twisted snake, —
One with the other all intervolved,
Like a riddle that is slowly solved.
" What ails the dame? What thus can make
Her eyes so wide and her limbs to quake? "
The crone replied, with a look of awe,
" Forgive me, lady, I thought I saw —
My sight is dim, —
'Twas a foolish whim, —
But I thought I saw a fiery snake,
A little streak of flame just there
Writhing through your tangled hair! "
The lady smiled, and gathered in
Her tresses betwixTher breast and chin;
And thus pursued the delirious theme,
While Roland listened like one in a dream.
" So near the shallop tacked and sailed,
That in a desperate moment I hailed
The skipper, who leaned against the helm,
Looking the lord of the watery realm.
Round went the rudder, — the sail went round;
And the light bark neared like a leaping hound;
But, seeing what I had done, I sunk
And swooned on the breast of the dear old monk!
" Then, half-awaking, I felt the motion
Beneath me of a summer ocean,
And dimly heard a voice of glee
Singing some ballad about the sea! —
'Twas the skipper's voice, as the helm he prest,
Heading the shallop out to the west!
" The Capuchin was at my side,
Or else for very fear I had died.
There we sat on deck, in the breezy shade
By the one tall lateen canvas made, —
Still flashing on in our track of foam
When the venturous sea-gull turned for home.
" Thus dreamily sitting, for many a day
Under the bow we heard the spray,
And watched our backward path of white,
And gazed on its liquid fire by night.
" Under us eastward the sea went by,
Over us westward went the sky —
The sun and the moon and those silver barks,
Those soul-freighted celestial arks,
The starry fleets of the shoreless night,
Were the only things that surpassed our flight!
As a swallow chases the summer, we sped,
Chasing the days that before us fled. "
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