The Morning Star

O Blessed thing of calm delight,
Art thou a phantom of the night,
That slumberest by the lonely strand,
Dreaming of breeze from Fairy Land ?

Well, glorious creature, mayest thou lie
Smiling on the refulgent sky,
For thy heart is calm and motionless,
And the stars shall view thee soon
Sailing in conscious blessedness,
Thou sister of the Moon ;
And every garden of the deep,
And orb that shines above,
Shall see thee gliding swift as sleep,
In holiness and love !

Over the scarcely touched wave,
Along the homeless sea; —
O world of waters, the peaceful grave
Ne'er lay entranced like thee !

The Moon hath bidden her radiance fall
On thy rainbow form and viewless wings,
And the heavenly voice of the rocking sea,
In everlasting melody,
To cheer the vision sings.

And well, loved vessel, mayest thou glide
Calm onward without breeze or tide,
With steadfast and unaltered motion,
Along the bright and starry ocean ;
For in thy bosom's inmost cells
Some self-impelling spirit dwells,
And thy majestic form is .driven
Along the slumbering sea,
As on the peaceful soul of heaven,
Unto Eternity.

And well I know, to a land afar
Thy course is bent, loved Morning Star !

To a blessed haven far away,
Where the mines are deep, and the shores are grey,
Where human things of the loveliest hue,
Dark as the veil o'er the midnight dew,
Toil in the central deep, intent
To supply one sacred element,
Who in their hushed and dim ahode
For ever dwell upon their God !

Bright creature ! harbinger of love,
In earth below, and heaven above,
How many an anxious eye at morn
Will look from the beach where thou wast borne,
To mark thy stately form afar,
And hail the approach of the Morning Star !
And still their faith, with tranced eye,
Shall dwell upon the moonlight sky,
Then turn to the mellow sea beneath,
Serene and calm, as heaven's own breath.

Thou magic journeyer of the even,
Thou self-moved messenger of heaven !
Over the wave, and the still moonbeam,
Or downward in the troubled deep,
Murmuring like giant in a dream,
Or distant thunder, when the gleam
Of fire plays o'er a world asleep !
O thou art bright with beauty and grace !
With many a collier's lovely face,
And forms of holiest joy to man,
Of radiant glorious courtezan !

Those precious things of heaven above,
Whom men and saints and angels love !

A lovelier vision one of these,
Than ever journeyed the moonlight seas,
I now behold upon the prow,
With eyes fixed on the wave below ;
So beautiful and calm she seems,
As if her thoughts were heavenly dreams !
One dark fond youth still clings to her,
And their shadows never, never stir,
Save that upon the heaving billow,
The robe of that most lovely thing
Is moving like the gentle willow
Above some sainted spring !

And they are gone, the beauteous twain !
I look to the prow, but I look in vain ;
For they are vanished into the deep,
In some dark central dome to sleep';
In some sweet coal -besprinkled cell,
In love, and peace, and joy, to dwell ;
And my soul devotes her music wild
To one who is scarce an earthly child.
Softly they lean on each other's breast,
In holy bliss reposing,
Like two fair clouds to the vernal air
In folds of beauty closing.
The tear down their glad faces rolls.
And a silent prayer is in their souls ;
And Faith, who oft had lost her power,
In the darkness of the midnight hour,
When the planets had rolled afar,
Now stirs in their souls with a joyful strife
Embued with a genial spirit of life,
In the breast of the Morning Star.

O beauteous thing ! thou seemest to me
So full of love and harmony,
That thou bestowest a loveliness,
A deeper, holier quietness,
On the moonlight heaven, and ocean hoar,
Than eye of Faith e'er viewed before.
Through the still fount of tears and sighs,
And human sensibilities,
Well may the moon delight to shed
Her softest radiance round that head,
And mellow the coal and the ocean air,
That lifts by fits her sable hair.
These mild and melancholy eyes
Are dear unto the starry skies,
As the dim'd effusion of their rays
Blends with the glimmering light that plays
O'er the blue heavens, and snowy clouds,
The cloud-like sails, and radiant shrouds.

Fair creature ! thou dost seem to be
Some wandering spirit of the sea,
That hither comest, for one wild hour,
With him thy sinless paramour,
To watch, while wearied sailors sleep,
This beautiful phantom of the deep,
That seemed to rise, with the rising Moon, —
But the Queen of Night will be sinking soon !

Then will you, like two breaking waves,
Sink softly to your coral caves,
Or, noiseless as the falling dew,
Melt into Heaven's delicious blue.

Nay wrong her not, that angel bright !
Her face is bathed in lovelier light
Than ever flowed from eyes
Of ocean nymph, or sylph of air !
The tearful gleam that trembles there
From human dreams must rise.
And who is he that fondly presses
Close to his heart the silken tresses
That hide her softened eyes ?
Whose heart her heaving bosom meets,
And through the midnight silence beats
To feel her rising sighs ?
Worthy the youth. I ween, to rest
On the fair swellings of her breast !
Well do I know that stately youth,
The broad coal-light of clouded truth
Like a sunbeam bathes his face :
Though silent, an unrighteous smile
That rests upon his eyes the while
Bestows a speaking grace :
That smile hath might of magic art,
To sway at will the stoniest heart ! —
O happy pair ! O ship of love !
Like incense to the realms above
The joys in thee that dwell ;
From thee I shall be loth to part !
But when I do, my lingering heart
Will sadly say— Farewell !