Public Domain Poetry And Stories - The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea: Book The Second by William Lisle Bowles
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The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea: Book The Second

    By William Lisle Bowles



    Oh for a view, as from that cloudless height
    Where the great Patriarch gazed upon the world,
    His offspring's future seat, back on the vale
    Of years departed! We might then behold
    Thebes, from her sleep of ages, awful rise,
    Like an imperial shadow, from the Nile,
    To airy harpings;[1] and with lifted torch
    Scatter the darkness through the labyrinths
    Of death, where rest her kings, without a name,
    And light the winding caves and pyramids
    In the long night of years! We might behold
    Edom, in towery strength, majestic rise,
    And awe the Erithræan, to the plains
    Where Migdol frowned, and Baal-zephon stood,[2]
    Before whose naval shrine the Memphian host
    And Pharaoh's pomp were shattered! As her fleets
    From Ezion went seaward, to the sound
    Of shouts and brazen trumpets, we might say,
    How glorious, Edom, in thy ships art thou,
    And mighty as the rushing winds!
        But night
    Is on the mournful scene: a voice is heard,
    As of the dead, from hollow sepulchres,
    And echoing caverns of the Nile, So pass
    The shades of mortal glory! One pure ray
    From Sinai bursts (where God of old revealed
    His glory, through the darkness terrible
    That sat on the dread Mount), and we descry
    Thy sons, O Noah! peopling wide the scene,
    From Shinar's plain to Egypt.
        Let the song
    Reveal, who first "went down to the great sea
    In ships," and braved the stormy element.
    THE SONS OF CUSH.[3] Still fearful of the FLOOD,
    They on the marble range and cloudy heights
    Of that vast mountain barrier, which uprises
    High o'er the Red Sea coast, and stretches on
    With the sea-line of Afric's southern bounds
    To Sofala, delved in the granite mass
    Their dark abode, spreading from rock to rock
    Their subterranean cities, whilst they heard,
    Secure, the rains of vexed Orion rush.
    Emboldened they descend, and now their fanes
    On Egypt's champaign darken, whilst the noise
    Of caravans is heard, and pyramids
    In the pale distance gleam. Imperial THEBES
    Starts, like a giant, from the dust; as when
    Some dread enchanter waves his wand, and towers
    And palaces far in the sandy wilds
    Spring up: and still, her sphinxes, huge and high,
    Her marble wrecks colossal, seem to speak
    The work of some great arm invisible,
    Surpassing human strength; while toiling Time,
    That sways his desolating scythe so vast,
    And weary havoc murmuring at his side,
    Smite them in vain. Heard ye the mystic song
    Resounding from her caverns as of yore?
    Sing to Osiris,[4] for his ark
    No more in night profound
    Of ocean, fathomless and dark,
    Typhon[5] has sunk! Aloud the sistrums ring
    Osiris! to our god Osiris sing!
    And let the midnight shore to rites of joy resound!
    Thee, great restorer of the world, the song
    Darkly described, and that mysterious shrine
    That bore thee o'er the desolate abyss,
    When the earth sank with all its noise!
        So taught,
    The borderers of the Erithræan launch'd
    Their barks, and to the shores of Araby
    First their brief voyage stretched, and thence returned
    With aromatic gums, or spicy wealth
    Of India. Prouder triumphs yet await,
    For lo! where Ophir's gold unburied shines
    New to the sun; but perilous the way,
    O'er Ariana's[6] spectred wilderness,
    Where ev'n the patient camel scarce endures
    The long, long solitude of rocks and sands,
    Parched, faint, and sinking, in his mid-day course.
    But see! upon the shore great Ammon[7] stands
    Be the deep opened! At his voice the deep
    Is opened; and the shading ships that ride
    With statelier masts and ampler hulls the seas,
    Have passed the Straits, and left the rocks and GATES
    OF DEATH.[8] Where Asia's cape the autumnal surge
    Throws blackening back, beneath a hollow cove,
    Awhile the mariners their fearful course
    Ponder, ere yet they tempt the further deep;
    Then plunged into the sullen main, they cast
    The youthful victim, to the dismal gods
    Devoted, whilst the smoke of sacrifice
    Slowly ascends:
    Hear, King of Ocean! hear,
    Dark phantom! whether in thy secret cave
    Thou sittest, where the deeps are fathomless,
    Nor hear'st the waters hum, though all above
    Is uproar loud; or on the widest waste,
    Far from all land, mov'st in the noontide sun,
    With dread and lonely shadow; or on high
    Dost ride upon the whirling spires, and fume
    Of that enormous volume, that ascends
    Black to the skies, and with the thunder's roar
    Bursts, while the waves far on are still: Oh, hear,
    Dread power, and save! lest hidden eddies whirl
    The helpless vessels down, down to the deeps
    Of night, where thou, O Father of the Storm,
    Dost sleep; or thy vast stature might appear
    High o'er the flashing waves, and (as thy beard
    Streamed to the cloudy winds) pass o'er their track,
    And they are seen no more; or monster-birds
    Darkening, with pennons lank, the morn, might bear
    The victims to some desert rock, and leave
    Their scattered bones to whiten in the winds!
    The Ocean-gods, with sacrifice appeased,
    Propitious smile; the thunder's roar has ceased,
    Smooth and in silence o'er the azure realm
    The tall ships glide along; for the South-West
    Cheerly and steady blows, and the blue seas
    Beneath the shadow sparkle; on they speed,
    The long coast varies as they pass from cove
    To sheltering cove, the long coast winds away;
    Till now emboldened by the unvarying gale,
    Still urging to the East, the sailors deem
    Some god inviting swells their willing sails,
    Or Destiny's fleet dragons through the surge
    Cut their mid-way, yoked to the beaked prows
    Unseen!
    Night after night the heavens' still cope,
    That glows with stars, they watch, till morning bears
    Airs of sweet fragrance o'er the yellow tide:
    Then Malabar her green declivities
    Hangs beauteous, beaming to the eye afar
    Like scenes of pictured bliss, the shadowy land
    Of soft enchantment. Now Salmala's peak
    Shines high in air, and Ceylon's dark green woods
    Beneath are spread; while, as the strangers wind
    Along the curving shores, sounds of delight
    Are heard; and birds of richest plumage, red
    And yellow, glance along the shades; or fly
    With morning twitter, circling o'er the mast,
    As singing welcome to the weary crew.
    Here rest, till westering gales again invite.
    Then o'er the line of level seas glide on,
    As the green deities of ocean guide,
    Till Ophir's distant hills spring from the main,
    And their long labours cease.

        Hence Asia slow
    Her length unwinds; and Siam and Ceylon
    Through wider channels pour their gems and gold
    To swell the pomp of Egypt's kings, or deck
    With new magnificence the rising dome[9]
    Of Palestine's imperial lord.
        His wants
    To satisfy; "with comelier draperies"
    To clothe his shivering form; to bid his arm
    Burst, like the Patagonian's,[10] the vain cords
    That bound his untried strength; to nurse the flame
    Of wider heart-ennobling sympathies;
    For this young Commerce roused the energies
    Of man; else rolling back, stagnant and foul,
    Like the GREAT ELEMENT on which his ships
    Go forth, without the currents, winds, and tides
    That swell it, as with awful life, and keep
    From rank putrescence the long-moving mass:
    And He, the sovereign Maker of the world,
    So to excite man's high activities,
    Bad various climes their various produce pour.
    On Asia's plain mark where the cotton-tree
    Hangs elegant its golden gems; the date
    Sits purpling the soft lucid haze, that lights
    The still, pale, sultry landscape; breathing sweet
    Along old Ocean's billowy marge, the eve
    Bears spicy fragrance far; the bread-fruit shades
    The southern isles; and gems, and richest ore,
    Lurk in the caverned mountains of the west.
    With ampler shade the northern oak uplifts
    His strength, itself a forest, and descends
    Proud to the world of waves, to bear afar
    The wealth collected, on the swelling tides,
    To every land: Where nature seems to mourn
    Her rugged outcast rocks, there Enterprise
    Leaps up; he gazes, like a god, around;
    He sees on other plains rich harvests wave;
    He marks far off the diamond blaze; he burns
    To reach the glittering prize; he looks; he speaks;
    The pines of Lebanon fall at his voice;
    He rears the towering mast: o'er the long main
    He wanders, and becomes, himself though poor,
    The sovereign of the globe!
        So Sidon rose;
    And Tyre, yet prouder o'er the subject waves,
    When in his manlier might the Ammonian spread
    Beyond Philistia to the Syrian sands,
    Crowned on her rocky citadel, beheld
    The treasures of all lands poured at her feet.
    Her daring prows the inland main disclosed;
    Freedom and Glory, Eloquence, and Arts,
    Follow their track, upspringing where they passed;
    Till, lo! another Thebes, an ATHENS springs,
    From the Ægean shores, and airs are heard,
    As of no mortal melody, from isles
    That strew the deep around! On to the STRAITS
    Where tower the brazen pillars[11] to the clouds,
    Her vessels ride. But what a shivering dread
    Quelled their bold hopes, when on their watch by night
    The mariners first saw the distant flames
    Of Ætna, and its red portentous glare
    Streaking the midnight waste! 'Tis not thy lamp,
    Astarte, hung in the dun vault of night,
    To guide the wanderers of the main! Aghast
    They eye the fiery cope, and wait the dawn.
    Huge pitchy clouds upshoot, and bursting fires
    Flash through the horrid volume as it mounts;
    Voices are heard, and thunders muttering deep.
    Haste, snatch the oars, fly o'er the glimmering surge
    Fly far, already louder thunders roll,
    And more terrific flames arise! Oh, spare,
    Dread Power! for sure some deity abides
    Deep in the central earth, amidst the reek
    Of sacrifice and blue sulphureous fume
    Involved. Perhaps the living Moloch[12] there
    Rules in his horrid empire, amid flames,
    Thunders, and blackening volumes, that ascend
    And wrap his burning throne!
        So was their path,
    To those who first the cheerless ocean roamed,
    Darkened with dread and peril. Scylla here,
    And fell Charybdis, on their whirling gulph
    Sit, like the sisters of Despair, and howl,
    As the devoted ship, dashed on the crags,
    Goes down: and oft the neighbour shores are strewn
    With bones of strangers sacrificed, whose bark
    Has foundered nigh, where the red watch-tower glares
    Through darkness. Hence mysterious dread, and tales
    Of Polyphemus and his monstrous rout;
    And warbling syrens on the fatal shores
    Of soft Parthenope. Yet oft the sound
    Of sea-conch through the night from some rude rock
    Is heard, to warn the wandering passenger
    Of fiends that lurk for blood!
        These dangers past,
    The sea puts on new beauties: Italy,
    Beneath the blue soft sky beaming afar,
    Opens her azure bays; Liguria's gulph
    Is past; the Bætic rocks, and ramparts high,
    That CLOSE THE WORLD, appear. The dashing bark
    Bursts through the fearful frith: Ah! all is now
    One boundless billowy waste; the huge-heaved wave
    Beneath the keel turns more intensely blue;
    And vaster rolls the surge, that sweeps the shores
    Of Cerne, and the green Hesperides,
    And long-renowned Atlantis,[13] whether sunk
    Now to the bottom of the "monstrous world;"
    Or was it but a shadow of the mind,
    Vapoury and baseless, like the distant clouds
    That seem the promise of an unknown land
    To the pale-eyed and wasted mariner,
    Cold on the rocking mast. The pilot plies,
    Now tossed upon Bayonna's mountain-surge,
    High to the north his way; when, lo! the cliffs
    Of Albion, o'er the sea-line rising calm
    And white, and Marazion's woody mount
    Lifting its dark romantic point between.
    So did thy ships to Earth's wide bounds proceed,
    O Tyre! and thou wert rich and beautiful
    In that thy day of glory. Carthage rose,
    Thy daughter, and the rival of thy fame,
    Upon the sands of Lybia; princes were
    Thy merchants; on thy golden throne thy state
    Shone, like the orient sun. Dark Lebanon
    Waved all his pines for thee; for thee the oaks
    Of Bashan towered in strength: thy galleys cut,
    Glittering, the sunny surge; thy mariners,
    On ivory benches, furled th' embroidered sails,
    That looms of Egypt wove, or to the oars,
    That measuring dipped, their choral sea-songs sung;
    The multitude of isles did shout for thee,
    And cast their emeralds at thy feet, and said
    Queen of the Waters, who is like to thee!
    So wert thou glorious on the seas, and said'st,
    I am a God, and there is none like me.
    But the dread voice prophetic is gone forth:
    Howl, for the whirlwind of the desert comes!
    Howl ye again, for Tyre, her multitude
    Of sins and dark abominations cry
    Against her, saith the LORD; in the mid seas
    Her beauty shall be broken; I will bring
    Her pride to ashes; she shall be no more,
    The distant isles shall tremble at the sound
    When thou dost fall; the princes of the sea
    Shall from their thrones come down, and cast away
    Their gorgeous robes; for thee they shall take up
    A bitter lamentation, and shall say
    How art thou fallen, renowned city! THOU,
    Who wert enthroned glorious on the seas,
    To rise no more!
    So visible, O GOD,
    Is thy dread hand in all the earth! Where Tyre
    In gold and purple glittered o'er the scene,
    Now the poor fisher dries his net, nor thinks
    How great, how rich, how glorious, once she rose!
    Meantime the furthest isle, cold and obscure,
    Whose painted natives roamed their woody wilds,
    From all the world cut off, that wondering marked
    Her stately sails approach, now in her turn
    Rises a star of glory in the West
    Albion, the wonder of the illumined world!
    See there a Newton wing the highest heavens;
    See there a Herschell's daring hand withdraw
    The luminous pavilion, and the throne
    Of the bright SUN reveal; there hear the voice
    Of holy truth amid her cloistered fane,
    As the clear anthem swells; see Taste adorn
    Her palaces; and Painting's fervid touch,
    That bids the canvas breathe; hear angel-strains,
    When Handel, or melodious Purcell, pours
    His sweetest harmonies; see Poesy
    Open her vales romantic, and the scenes
    Where Fancy, an enraptured votary, roves
    At eve; and hark! 'twas Shakspeare's voice! he sits
    Upon a high and charmed rock alone,
    And, like the genius of the mountain, gives
    The rapt song to the winds; whilst Pity weeps,
    Or Terror shudders at the changeful tones,
    As when his Ariel soothes the storm! Then pause,
    For the wild billows answer, Lycidas
    Is dead, young Lycidas, dead ere his prime,
    Whelmed in the deep, beyond the Orcades,
    Or where the "vision of the guarded Mount,
    BELERUS holds."
    Nor skies, nor earth, confine
    The march of England's glory; on she speeds,
    The unknown barriers of the utmost deep
    Her prow has burst, where the dread genius slept
    For ages undisturbed, save when he walked
    Amid the darkness of the storm! Her fleet
    Even now along the East rides terrible,
    Where early-rising commerce cheered the scene!
    Heard ye the thunders of her vengeance roll,
    As Nelson, through the battle's dark-red haze
    Aloft upon the burning prow directs,
    Where the dread hurricane, with sulphureous flash,
    Shall burst unquenchable, while from the grave
    Osiris ampler seems to rise? Where thou,
    O Tyre! didst awe the subject seas of yore,
    Acre even now, and ancient Carmel, hears
    The cry of conquest. 'Mid the fire and smoke
    Of the war-shaken citadel, with eye
    Of temper'd flame, yet resolute command,
    His brave sword beaming, and his cheering voice
    Heard 'mid the onset's cries, his dark-brown hair
    Spread on his fearless forehead, and his hand
    Pointing to Gallia's baffled chief, behold
    The British Hero stand! Why beats my heart
    With kindred animation? The warm tear
    Of patriot triumph fills mine eye. I strike
    A louder strain unconscious, while the harp
    Swells to the bold involuntary song.

I.

    Fly, SON OF TERROR, fly!
    Back o'er the burning desert he is fled!
    In heaps the gory dead
    And livid in the trenches lie!
    His dazzling files no more
    Flash on the Syrian sands,
    As when from Egypt's ravaged shore,
    Aloft their gleamy falchions swinging,
    Aloud their victor pæans singing,
    Their onward way the Gallic legions took.
    Despair, dismay, are on his altered look,
    Yet hate indignant lowers;
    Whilst high on Acre's granite towers
    The shade of English Richard seems to stand;
    And frowning far, in dusky rows,
    A thousand archers draw their bows!
    They join the triumph of the British band,
    And the rent watch-tower echoes to the cry,
    Heard o'er the rolling surge, They fly, they fly!

II.

    Now the hostile fires decline,
    Now through the smoke's deep volumes shine;
    Now above the bastions gray
    The clouds of battle roll away;
    Where, with calm, yet glowing mien,
    Britain's victorious youth is seen!
    He lifts his eye,
    His country's ensigns wave through smoke on high,
    Whilst the long-mingled shout is heard, They fly, they fly!

III.

    Hoary CARMEL, witness thou,
    And lift in conscious pride thy brow;
    As when upon thy cloudy plain
    BAAL'S PROPHETS cried in vain!
    They gashed their flesh, and leaped, and cried,
    From morn till lingering even-tide.
    Then stern ELIJAH on his foes
    Strong in the might of Heaven arose!
    On CARMEL'S top he stood,
    And while the blackening clouds and rain
    Came sounding from the Western main,
    Raised his right hand that dropped with impious blood.
    ANCIENT KISHON prouder swell,
    On whose banks they bowed, they fell,
    The mighty ones of yore, when, pale with dread,
    Inglorious SISERA fled!
    So let them perish, Holy LORD,
    Who for OPPRESSION lift the sword;
    But let all those who, armed for freedom, fight,
    "Be as the sun who goes forth in his might."



Extra Info:
[1] Alluding to the harps found in the caverns of Thebes.

[2] Migdol was a fortress which guarded the pass of Egypt; Baal-zephon, a sea idol, generally considered the guardian of the coast.

[3] The Cushites inhabited the granite rocks stretching along the Red Sea.

[4] When the Egyptians found the ark, their expression was, "Let us rejoice, we have found the lost Osiris," or Noah.

[5] The deluge or devastating storm.

[6] The desert of Ariana, where the army of Cyrus perished.

[7] Ammon, according to Sir Isaac Newton, was the first artificer who built large ships, and passed the Straits.

[8] The entrance into the Red Sea was called the Gate of Affliction.

[9] Temple of Solomon.

[10] Alluding to the story of Patagonians bursting their cords when taken.

[11] Pillars of Hercules.

[12] Moloch, whose rites of blood are well known, was worshipped along the coast of Syria.

[13] The island described by Plato; by some supposed to be America.



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