The Storm

War, 'mid the ocean and the land !
The battle-field, Morwenna's strand,
Where rock and ridge the bulwark keep,
The giant-warders of the deep.

They come ! and shall they not prevail,
The seething surge, the gathering gale ?
They fling their wild flag to the breeze,
The banner of a thousand seas.

They come — they mount — they charge in vain,
Thus far, incalculable main !
No more ! thine hosts have not o'erthrown
The lichen on the barrier stone.

Have the rocks faith, that thus they stand,
Unmoved, a grim and stately band,
And look, like warriors tried and brave,
Stern, silent, reckless, o'er the wave ?

Have the proud billows thoughts and life,
To feel the glory of the strife ;
And trust, one day, in battle bold,
To win the foeman's haughty hold ?

Mark where they writhe with pride and shame,
Fierce valour, and the zeal of fame !
Hear how their din of madness raves,
The baffled army of the waves !

Thy way, O God, is in the sea,
Thy paths, where awful waters be ;
Thy spirit thrills the conscious stone :
O Lord, thy footsteps are not known !