Vision of Shelley's Death

The wind had darkly touched the outer bay,
A looming storm shut out the sultry day,
And whiter grew the distant billows' play.
The nearer calm a single sail beguiled,
And at the helm, with features fair and mild,
Sat one whom men have called the Eternal Child.
A breath — a breeze — 'the tempest strikes the sail;
It fills, it stoops, and, swift and free as frail,
It flies a broad-winged arrow from the gale.
A precious boat! may angels speed it right!
The world, in shell so thin and form so slight,
Hath all its hold upon a mind of might.
He lay reclined in noonday dreams no more,
He gazed no longer at the purple shore,
Nor mused on roofing skies, and ocean's floor.
The wizard storm invoked a truer dream —
Had kindled in his eye its proudest gleam,
And given his eagle soul a grander theme.
No sign of craven fear his lips reveal;
He only feels the joy that heroes feel,
When lightnings flash and jarring thunders peal.
The boat dipt low; his foot was on the helm;
The deck a throne, the storm his genial realm,
He dared the powers that nature's king o'erwhelm.
The gentle eye that turned from man away,
Now flashed in answer to the flashing spray,
And glanced in triumph o'er the foaming bay.
And as aloft the boat a moment hung,
Then down the plunging wave was forward flung,
His own wild song, "The Fugitives," he sung:
Said he, "And seest thou, and hearest thou?"
Cried he, "And fearest thou, and fearest thou?
A pilot bold, I trow, should follow now." ....
The sail was torn and trailing in the sea,
The water flooded o'er the dipping lee,
And clomb the mast in maddest revelry.
It righted, with the liquid load, and fast
Went down; the mariners afloat were cast,
And louder roared and laughed the mocking blast.
A moment, and no trace of man or spar
Is left to strew the path that, near and far,
Is whirled in foam beneath the tempest's car
A moment more, and one pale form appeared,
And faintly looked the eyes; no storm careered,
And all the place with mystic light was sphered.
Around him slept a circling space of wave;
It seemed the crystal pavement of a cave,
And all about he heard the waters rave.
He saw them waving like a silken tent —
Beheld them fall, as rocks of beryl rent,
And rage like lions from a martyr pent.
A sudden life began to thrill his veins;
A strange new force his sinking weight sustains,
Until he seemed released from mortal chains.
He looked above — a glory floating down —
A dazzling face and form — a kingly crown —
With blinding beauty all his senses drown.
As tearful eyes may see the light they shun,
As veiling mists reveal the clear-shaped sun,
He knew the crucified, transfigured One.
In that still pause of trembling, blissful sight,
He woke as from a wild and life-long night,
And through his soul there crept a holy light.
A blot seemed fading from his troubled brain,
A doubt of God — a madness and a pain —
Till upward welled his trustful youth again;
Till upward every feeling pure was drawn,
As nightly dews are claimed again at dawn,
And whence they gently come are gently gone.
He gazed upon those mercy-beaming eyes,
Till recognition chased away surprise,
And he had faith from heaven to slowly rise —
To rise and kneel upon the glassy tide,
While down the Vision floated to his side,
And stooped to hear what less he said than sighed:
"Oh Truth, Love, Gentleness! I wooed and won
Your essences, nor knew that ye are One;
Oh crowned Truth, receive thine erring son!" ....
The gentle one, whose thought alone was wrong —
The Eternal Child amidst a cherub throng,
Was wafted to the Home of Love and Song.