Count Arnaldos

Who had ever such adventure,
Holy priest, or virgin nun,
As befel the Count Arnaldos
At the rising of the sun?

On his wrist the hawk was hooded,
Forth with horn and hound went he,
When he saw a stately galley
Sailing on the silent sea.

Sail of sattin, mast of cedar,
Burnish'd poop of beaten gold—
Many a morn you'll hood your faulcon
Ere you such a bark behold.

Sails of sattin, masts of cedar,
Golden poops may come again,
But mortal ear no more shall listen
To yon grey-hair'd sailor's strain.

Heart may beat, and eye may glisten,
Faith is strong, and Hope is free,
But mortal ear no more shall listen
To the song that rules the sea.

When the grey-hair'd sailor chaunted,
Every wind was hush'd to sleep—
Like a virgin's bosom panted
All the wide reposing deep.

Bright in beauty rose the star-fish
From her green cave down below,
Right above the eagle poised him—
Holy music charm'd them so.

"Stately galley! glorious galley!
God hath pour'd his grace on thee!
Thou alone may'st scorn the perils
Of the dread devouring sea!

"False Almeria's reefs and shallows,
Black Gibraltar's giant rocks,
Sound and sand-bank, gulf and whirlpool,
All—my glorious galley mocks!"—

"For the sake of God, our maker!"—
(Count Arnaldos' cry was strong,)
"Old man, let me be partaker
In the secret of thy song!"—

"Count Arnaldos! Count Arnaldos!
Hearts I read, and thoughts I know—
Would'st thou learn the ocean secret,
In our galley thou must go."—