Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/74

A toiling atom,—then from wave to wave
Leaps madly, by the tempest lash'd,—or reels
Half wreck'd, through gulfs profound.
                                      —Moons wax and wane,
But still that lonely traveller treads the deep.—
—I see an ice-bound coast toward which she steers
With such a tardy movement, that it seems
Stern Winter's hand hath turn'd her keel to stone,
And seal'd his victory on her slippery shrouds.—
—They land!—They land!—not like the Genoese
With glittering sword and gaudy train, and eye
Kindling with golden fancies.—Forth they come
From their long prison,—hardy forms that brave
The world's unkindness, —men of hoary hair,
And virgins of firm heart, and matrons grave
Who hush the wailing infant with a glance.—
Bleak Nature's desolation wraps them round,
Eternal forests, and unyielding earth,
And savage men, who through the thickets peer
With vengeful arrow.—What could lure their steps
To this drear desert?—Ask of him who left
His father's home to roam through Haran's wilds,
Distrusting not the Guide who call'd him forth,
Nor doubting, though a stranger, that his seed
Should be as Ocean's sands.—
                                     —But yon lone bark
Hath spread her parting sail.—
                                    They crowd the strand,
Those few, lone pilgrims.—Can ye scan the wo
That wrings their bosoms, as the last, frail link
Binding to man, and habitable earth
Is sever'd ?—Can ye tell what pangs were there,