MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. FAIR WIND. O, WHO can tell, that never sailed Among the glassy seas, How fresh and welcome breaks the morn That ushers in a breeze! "Fair Wind! Fair Wind!" alow, aloft, All hands delight to cry, As, leaping through the parted waves, The good ship makes reply. While fore and aft, all staunch and tight, She spreads her canvas wide, The captain walks his realm, the deck, With more than monarch's pride; For well he knows the sea-bird's wings, So swift and sure to-day, Will waft him many a league to-night In triumph on his way. Then welcome to the rushing blast That stirs the waters now, Ye white-plumed heralds of the deep, Make music round her prow! Good sea-room in the roaring gale, Let stormy trumpets blow; But chain ten thousand fathoms down The sluggish calm below! ON A BOOK OF SEA-MOSSES, SENT TO AN EMINENT ENGLISH POET. To him who sang of Venice, and revealed Sail to our rougher shores, and rise and fall Such spoils we capture where the rainbows drop, 32 ON A BOOK OF SEA-MOSSES. From narrow cells, scooped in the rocks, we take These fairy textures, lightly moored at morn. Down sunny slopes, outstretching to the deep, We roam at noon, and gather shapes like these. Note now the painted webs from verdurous isles, Festooned and spangled in sea-caves, and say What hues of land can rival tints like those, Torn from the scarfs and gonfalons of kings Who dwell beneath the waters. Such our Gift, Culled from a margin of the western world, And offered unto Genius in the old. BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST. We were crowded in the cabin, Not a soul would dare to sleep,— It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep. 'Tis a fearful thing in winter To be shattered in the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder, "Cut away the mast!" So we shuddered there in silence, |