'Twas evening, and the setting sun sank slowly o'er the main,
The twilight deepened into night, the stars shone out again,
The mighty waves were surging high, then dashed with sullen roar
Upon the sharp and rugged rocks which gird the Cornish shore.
Who has not stood high on the cliff and caught the cooling breeze,
Looking with wonder and delight across the rolling seas?
Who has not wished that rocks and caves with cliffs and sands could tell
Of deeds there done in days of yore, and what brave men befell?
'Twas thus I mused one summer night, and spake the thought aloud—
Ye rocks that stand firm and unmoved amid the waters proud,
Will ye not say what men came here two hundred years ago,
And what they thought, and said, and did, whether for weal or woe?
These words I spoke—then paused awhile and listened for reply,
Then up the cliffs from far below came on the breeze a sigh,
Which seemed to tell of evil done, and then a voice at last
Said—Listen! look around, and see the Spirit of the Past.
The scene was changed. Again 'twas night; no stars were to be seen,
The sky with cloud was overcast, no lighthouse sent its gleam
Across the restless ocean wave the mariner to cheer,
And warn him by its friendly light that rocks and shoals were near.
But hark! the stillness of the night was broken by the sound
Of human voices loud and high, and looking quickly round,
A band of dusky forms I saw, while, with a straining ear,
I listened for the reason why they were gathered here.
And one was saying how a ship with cargo rich and rare
Was soon expected in the bay about ten miles from there,
And how as evening shades came on he saw the distant sail
That soon would near this rocky point, helped by the favouring gale.
Then spake the leader of the band to one close standing by,
“Go down the cliff, just half-way down, and swing the lantern high,
Just as a light would look aloft on a vessel under weigh;
We'll grind her timbers on the rocks, then claim her for our prey.”
The deed is done; the lantern high is rocking to and fro,
The watcher on the merchant ship, he sees it come and go;
With full sail set, no danger fears, he steers the vessel on
Till close before him breakers roar, and then all hope is gone.
“Down with the helm, bring her about!” the frantic captain's cry;
Too late, too late! she strikes the rocks, the wooden splinters fly;
Crash! and her timbers, mast and ropes, with sails, complete the wreck;
Wave after wave all pitiless has swept them from her deck.
At dawn next day the coast is strewed with wreckage far and near;
The murderous band with busy hands are all exultant here.
But God is just, and verily they shall have their reward;
Transgressors shall find out this truth—transgressors way are hard.
Oh! Spirit of the mighty Past, are these the deeds of yore?
Did men destroy their fellow men, and by false lights allure?
Oh! rocks and caves, and sands and cliffs,—oh, be for ever dumb
Unless of nobler deeds ye tell in days that are to come!
The wheels of Time had swiftly run two hundred years or more,
And in a little seaport town on this our Cornish shore
Another scene:—'Twas winter now,—the blinding hail and sleet
Before the wind in fitful gusts came sweeping through the street.
The sea-foam flew like flakes of snow before the gathering gale,
The sea-gull's scream was heard on high, a solemn dirge-like wail,
Yet on the beach, drenched through with spray, some fishermen appear,
And, looking seaward, watch a ship with mingled hope and fear.
Some three miles off, a gallant barque, by wind and tempest tossed,
Is drifting fast with broken mast; all hope is well nigh lost,
For sunken rocks lie in her course, and in a moment more
The signals of distress go up,—they seek help from the shore.
“Lads, shall we try it?” spake their chief. “Yes! yes!” was their reply.
Then turning to their weeping wives, they gently said good-bye,—
For God and for humanity, at Duty's trumpet call,
Resolved to save the perishing or at their post to fall.
Launch, launch the lifeboat!—lend a hand,—heave-to, my lads,—give way!
And soon the boat like a thing of life is dashing through the spray;
Stout arms are there, brave hearts beat high; they grasp the straining oar,
And then through billows white with foam they leave the rugged shore.
Would ye see heroes? Here they are, not in their coats of mail,
No bloody sword is in their hand, no record tells a tale
Of thousands slain upon the field, of widows left to moan,
Of orphans cast upon the world without a friend or home.
God's heroes these—in dangers tried, to bless the world they go,—
To lighten human suffering, to lessen human woe.
Their work is done, the boat returns,—“How many saved?” we cry.
“Why all on board; of all that crew not one is left to die!”
“Whence comes this change? no wreckers here! Oh! boatmen, tell us why
You left your homes and little ones, and anxious wives, to try
To save those men upon the deep, to bring them safe to land?
What hope of a reward had you, pray tell us, gallant band?”
“Oh, yes; you know when we were lads, our mothers, good, kind dames,
They taught us to be brave and true, and that's how comes the change.
“All men are brothers,” and the Book contains these good words too—
“Do unto others as ye would that they should do to you.”
Men, fathers, friends, there's work for all upon life's troubled sea,
For moral wreckers still abound, cursing humanity;
The world wants men to lend a hand, some shipwrecked ones to save;
Go do your best, 'twill not be lost, for God rewards the brave!
The twilight deepened into night, the stars shone out again,
The mighty waves were surging high, then dashed with sullen roar
Upon the sharp and rugged rocks which gird the Cornish shore.
Who has not stood high on the cliff and caught the cooling breeze,
Looking with wonder and delight across the rolling seas?
Who has not wished that rocks and caves with cliffs and sands could tell
Of deeds there done in days of yore, and what brave men befell?
'Twas thus I mused one summer night, and spake the thought aloud—
Ye rocks that stand firm and unmoved amid the waters proud,
Will ye not say what men came here two hundred years ago,
And what they thought, and said, and did, whether for weal or woe?
These words I spoke—then paused awhile and listened for reply,
Then up the cliffs from far below came on the breeze a sigh,
Which seemed to tell of evil done, and then a voice at last
Said—Listen! look around, and see the Spirit of the Past.
The scene was changed. Again 'twas night; no stars were to be seen,
The sky with cloud was overcast, no lighthouse sent its gleam
Across the restless ocean wave the mariner to cheer,
And warn him by its friendly light that rocks and shoals were near.
But hark! the stillness of the night was broken by the sound
Of human voices loud and high, and looking quickly round,
A band of dusky forms I saw, while, with a straining ear,
I listened for the reason why they were gathered here.
And one was saying how a ship with cargo rich and rare
Was soon expected in the bay about ten miles from there,
And how as evening shades came on he saw the distant sail
That soon would near this rocky point, helped by the favouring gale.
Then spake the leader of the band to one close standing by,
“Go down the cliff, just half-way down, and swing the lantern high,
Just as a light would look aloft on a vessel under weigh;
We'll grind her timbers on the rocks, then claim her for our prey.”
The deed is done; the lantern high is rocking to and fro,
The watcher on the merchant ship, he sees it come and go;
With full sail set, no danger fears, he steers the vessel on
Till close before him breakers roar, and then all hope is gone.
“Down with the helm, bring her about!” the frantic captain's cry;
Too late, too late! she strikes the rocks, the wooden splinters fly;
Crash! and her timbers, mast and ropes, with sails, complete the wreck;
Wave after wave all pitiless has swept them from her deck.
At dawn next day the coast is strewed with wreckage far and near;
The murderous band with busy hands are all exultant here.
But God is just, and verily they shall have their reward;
Transgressors shall find out this truth—transgressors way are hard.
Oh! Spirit of the mighty Past, are these the deeds of yore?
Did men destroy their fellow men, and by false lights allure?
Oh! rocks and caves, and sands and cliffs,—oh, be for ever dumb
Unless of nobler deeds ye tell in days that are to come!
The wheels of Time had swiftly run two hundred years or more,
And in a little seaport town on this our Cornish shore
Another scene:—'Twas winter now,—the blinding hail and sleet
Before the wind in fitful gusts came sweeping through the street.
The sea-foam flew like flakes of snow before the gathering gale,
The sea-gull's scream was heard on high, a solemn dirge-like wail,
Yet on the beach, drenched through with spray, some fishermen appear,
And, looking seaward, watch a ship with mingled hope and fear.
Some three miles off, a gallant barque, by wind and tempest tossed,
Is drifting fast with broken mast; all hope is well nigh lost,
For sunken rocks lie in her course, and in a moment more
The signals of distress go up,—they seek help from the shore.
“Lads, shall we try it?” spake their chief. “Yes! yes!” was their reply.
Then turning to their weeping wives, they gently said good-bye,—
For God and for humanity, at Duty's trumpet call,
Resolved to save the perishing or at their post to fall.
Launch, launch the lifeboat!—lend a hand,—heave-to, my lads,—give way!
And soon the boat like a thing of life is dashing through the spray;
Stout arms are there, brave hearts beat high; they grasp the straining oar,
And then through billows white with foam they leave the rugged shore.
Would ye see heroes? Here they are, not in their coats of mail,
No bloody sword is in their hand, no record tells a tale
Of thousands slain upon the field, of widows left to moan,
Of orphans cast upon the world without a friend or home.
God's heroes these—in dangers tried, to bless the world they go,—
To lighten human suffering, to lessen human woe.
Their work is done, the boat returns,—“How many saved?” we cry.
“Why all on board; of all that crew not one is left to die!”
“Whence comes this change? no wreckers here! Oh! boatmen, tell us why
You left your homes and little ones, and anxious wives, to try
To save those men upon the deep, to bring them safe to land?
What hope of a reward had you, pray tell us, gallant band?”
“Oh, yes; you know when we were lads, our mothers, good, kind dames,
They taught us to be brave and true, and that's how comes the change.
“All men are brothers,” and the Book contains these good words too—
“Do unto others as ye would that they should do to you.”
Men, fathers, friends, there's work for all upon life's troubled sea,
For moral wreckers still abound, cursing humanity;
The world wants men to lend a hand, some shipwrecked ones to save;
Go do your best, 'twill not be lost, for God rewards the brave!