'TWAS morning, and the ruddy sunbeams fell Upon the surf-chafed coast of bleak Dunbar; The sea-gull sped from her spray-portall'd cell, And flash'd ath wart the waters like a star; The fishing-boats rode on the white-topp'd swell, Out on the deep a sail was seen afar. The breezes bore the surf's hoarse voice along, The circling sea-gull's scream, the fisher's snatch of song. Out to the deep the Concord cleft her way; Staunch was the boat, and fearless were the crew -- Of many hearts the pride, the hope, and stay, The gallant Johnstones -- hardy, bold, and true -- Whose polar-star was duty. Ah! the day Dawn'd not on braver ploughers of the blue; Their goal the sail which, bird-like, gleam'd afar; Their task to steer her safe across the harbour bar. A frown swept o'er the sapphire dome of heaven, Swathing in gloom the sun-god's flaming crest; In fitful gusts inconstant winds were driven Across the dim, dark ocean's heaving breast; Then like a sightless Cyclops, madness riven, The storm-king leapt upon the trembling yeast; Then winds and waters grappled in the gloom, And the staunch Concord's crew stood face to face with doom. Alone upon the deep! Brave pilot band! "No eye to pity and no hand to save." Firm-lipp'd they stood, as Scottish men can stand When death confronts them, and the yawning grave; Undaunted and unvanquish'd, hand in hand, They sank beneath the tempest-wrestling wave. Their children's faces flash'd before their eyes, And with a cry to God, they entered Paradise. No more the pilots' sail shall fleck the deep, Their keel no more plough furrows in the Firth; And Sympathy shall mourn and Pity weep Over the death-glean'd sheaves of sterling worth; And lamentation's voice shall heavenward leap, Wailing the dear ones snatch'd away from earth. The cries of babes, the tears by women shed -- O, Heaven! these have no power to summon back the dead. To Thee, O God, we turn in mute despair, In speechless agony of heart and mind. Make thou the widows Thy peculiar care, Their broken hearts with Thine own hands upbind. The mother, Lord, in thy great love let share, The fatherless in Thee a Father find. "@3The dead shall rise!@1" then may the pilot band, With mothers, wives, and babes, be found on @3Thy right hand@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER FOR SPRING, BY SANDRO BOTTICELLI by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE OWL (1) by ALFRED TENNYSON TO THE RIGHT HON! WILLIAM EARL OF DARTMOUTH by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE SOFTNESS OF SYBARIS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |