Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 28 1830.pdf/3

Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old,
    Midst wrecks where the brave have striven;
—The Deep is a strong and a fearful hold,
    But thou its bars hast riven.

A wild and weary life is thine,
    A wasting toil and lone!
Though the treasure-grots for thee may shine,
    To all besides unknown.

A weary life!—but a swift decay
    Soon, soon shall set thee free;
Thou art passing fast from the strife away—
    Thou wrestler with the sea!

In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek,
    Well are the death-signs read:
—Go! for the pearl in its cavern seek,
    Ere hope and power be fled!

And bright in Beauty's coronal
    That glistening gem shall be;
A star to all in the festive hall—
    But who shall think on thee?

None!—as it gleams from the queen-like head,
    Not one midst throngs will say,
"A life hath been like a rain-drop shed,
    For that pale, quivering ray."

Woe! for the wealth so dearly bought!
    —And are not those like thee,
Who win for earth the gems of thought,
    O wrestler with the sea?

Down to the gulphs of the soul they go,
    Where the passion-fountains burn,
Gathering the jewels far below
    From many a buried urn:

Wringing from lava-veins the fire
    That o'er bright words is pour'd;
Learning deep sounds, that make the lyre
    A spirit in each chord!

But oh! the price of bitter tears
    Paid for the lonely power,
That throws at last, o'er desert-years,
    A darkly-glorious dower!

As flower-seeds far by the wild wind spread,
    So precious thoughts are strew'd;
—The soul, whence those high gifts are shed,
    May faint in solitude.

And who will think, when the strain is sung
    Till a thousand hearts are stirr'd,
What life-drops, from the minstrel wrung,
    Have gush'd with every word?

None! none!—his treasures live like thine,
    He strives and dies with thee;
—Thou that hast been to the pearl's dark shrine,
    O wrestler with the sea!