Short Poems

He fell for Spain,—her Spain no more;
For he was gone who made it dear;
And she would seek some distant shore,
Away from strife and fear,
And wait amid her sorrows till the day
His voice of love should call her thence away.

Too late for thee, thou young, fair bride!
The lips are cold, the brow is pale,
That thou didst kiss in love and pride;
He cannot hear thy wail,
Whom thou didst lull with fondly murmured sound:
His couch is cold and lonely in the ground.

And wrath and terrour shake the land;
The peaks shine clear in watchfire lights;
Soon comes the tread of that stout band,—
Bold Arthur and his knights.
Awake ye, Merlin! Hear the shout from Spain!
The spell is broke!—Arthur is come again!—

A sound is in the Pyrenees!
Whirling and dark comes roaring down
A tide as of a thousand seas,
Sweeping both cowl and crown:
On field and vineyard, thick and red it stood;
Spain's streets and palaces are wet with blood.

Within a Spanish port she rides.
Angry and soured, Lee walks her deck.
“So, peaceful trade a curse betides?—
And thou, good ship, a wreck!
Ill luck in change!—Ho! cheer ye up, my men!
Rigged, and at sea, and, then, old work again!”

The sea has like a plaything tost
That heavy hull the livelong night.
The man of sin,—he is not lost:
Soft breaks the morning light.
Torn spars and sails,—her lading in the deep,—
The ship makes port with slow and labouring sweep.

Ocean has swallowed for its food
Spoils thou didst gain in murderous glee;
Matt, could its waters wash out blood,
It had been well for thee.
Crime fits for crime. And no repentant tear
Hast thou for sin?—Then wait thine hour of fear.

The ship works hard; the seas run high;
Their white tops, flashing through the night,
Give to the eager, straining eye
A wild and shifting light.
“Hard at the pumps!—The leak is gaining fast!
Lighten the ship!—The devil rode that blast!”

And wanton talk, and laughter heard,
Where sounds a deep and awful voice.
There 's awe from that lone ocean-bird:
Pray ye, when ye rejoice!
“Leave prayers to priests,” cries Lee: “I'm ruler here!
These fellows know full well whom they should fear!”

'T is fearful, on the broad-backed waves,
To feel them shake, and hear them roar:
Beneath, unsounded, dreadful caves;
Around, no cheerful shore.
Yet 'mid this solemn world what deeds are done!
The curse goes up, the deadly sea-fight 's won;—