Stains the pure western sky with crimson clouds:
Now from the sea’s last verge he sheds his rays,
Still o’er the heavens reflected splendours flow,
Which make the world of waters gleam and glow:
Wide and more wide each billow shines more bright,
Till all the empurpled ocean floats in light.
Soon as fair Irza marked the evening’s close,
Grave from her seat the young enthusiast rose,
Told o’er her beads, and when the string was said,
Each worldly wish appeared so lost in prayer,
All felt, no thought could to her mind be near,
That man her form could see, her voice could hear:
Hushed all the ship!--Each sailor checked his glee,
Clasped his hard hands, and bent his trembling knee;
And each (as rose that soft mysterious strain,
Best help in trouble, and sweet balm in pain)
Gazed on the maid with mingled awe and fear,
Damp on his cheek perceived the unwonted tear,
Then raised to Heaven his eyes in earnest prayer,
For Mary’s grace, or Irza’s, rose his vow.
Scarce e’en the monk forbore to kneel; his child
Fondly he viewed, and sweetly, gravely smiled,
And blessed that God, as swelled each melting note,
Who gave such heavenly powers to human throat!
Melodious strains, oh! speed your flight above
On Neptune’s wings, and reach the ear of Love!
Oh! spread thy starry robe, celestial queen,
(For much thine aid she needs!) from ills to screen
Thy virgin-votaress!--Silence holds the deep,
And e’en the helmsman’s eyes are sealed by sleep:
Yet mark yon gathering clouds!--the moon is fled!--
Mark too that deathlike stillness, deep and dread!
And hark!--from yon black cloud an awful voice
Pours the wild chaunt, and bids the winds rejoice!
I marked her!--the pennants, how gaily they streamed!--
The waves that sustained her, how brightly they beamed
In the sun’s setting rays, and the sailors all seemed
But I marked her!--and now from the clouds I descend!
I clap my black pinions! my wand I extend,
In darkness the sky and the ocean to blend,
And the winds mark the charms which I utter.
Now more and more rapid in eddies I whirl,
In my voice while the thunder-clap rumbles:
And now the white mountainous waves, as they curl,
I joy o’er the deck of the vessel to hurl,
The crew is alarmed; but the tempest prevails,
Ere there’s time for their furling the canvass, the sails