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Beneath the clear surface reflecting it slide
Where Is the ship ? On the verge of the wave where it lay One tiger is mingled in ghastly affray With a sea-snake. The foam and the smoke of the battle Stain the clear air with sunbows; the jar, and the rattle Of solid bones crushed by the infinite stress Of the snake's adamantine voluminousness ; And the hum of the hot blood that spouts and rains Where the gripe of the tiger has wounded the veins, Swollen with rage, strength, and effort ; the whirl and the
splash As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth smash The thin winds and soft waves into thunder! the screams And hissings crawl fast o'er the smooth ocean-streams, Each sound like a centipede. Near this commotion, A blue shark is hanging within the blue ocean, The fin-winged tomb of the victor. The other Is winning his way from the fate of his brother, To his own with the speed of despair. Lo! a boat Advances; twelve rowers with the impulse of thought Urge on the keen keel, the brine foams. At the stern Three marksmen stand levelling. Hot bullets burn In the breast of the tiger, which yet bears him on To his refuge and ruin. One fragment alone, "Tis dwindling and sinking, 'tis now almost gone, Of the wreck of the vessel peers out of the sea. With her left hand she grasps it impetuously, With her right she sustains her fair infant. Death, Fear, Love, Beauty, are mixed in the atmosphere,
Which trembles and burns with the fervour of dread
THE fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean,
With a sweet emotion;
All things by a law divine
Why not I with thine ?
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
If it disdained its brother:
And the moonbeams kiss the sea ;
If thou kiss not me?
I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
In their noon-day dreams.
The sweet buds every one,
As she dances about the sun.
And whiten the green plains under,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Lightning my pilot sits,
It struggles and howls at fits;
This pilot is guiding me,
In the depths of the purple sea;
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The Spirit he loves remains ;
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
When the morning star shines dead. As on the jag of a mountain crag,
Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may
sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
Its ardours of rest and of love, And the crimson pall of eve may
fall From the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest,
As still as a brooding dove.
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden,
By the midnight breezes strewn;
Which only the angels hear,
The stars peep behind her and peer ;
Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in
wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are each paved with the moon and these.
I bind the sun's throne with the burning zone,
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ;
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Over a torrent sea,
The mountains its columns be.
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
Is the million-coloured bow;
While the moist earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of earth and water,
And the nursling of the sky: I pass through the
of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain, when with never a stain,
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
Build the blue dome of air,
And out of the caverns of rain,
I arise and unbuild it again.