Poems (Hoffman)/The Lady of the Wreck

by Martha Lavinia Hoffman

THE LADY OF THE WRECK

Clear and bright was the liquid depth
Where a beautiful Brazilian barque
In the bosom of grim old ocean slept
With the shades beneath, it green and dark.

Two divers stood on the ruined deck
While the tropic sunbeams overhead
O'er the princely form of the silent wreck
Their tints of dazzling beauty shed.

Half embedded, in yellow sand
And broken coral, the vessel lay;
While a halo of rainbow color spanned
The broken toy of the breaker's play.

The divers halted a moment there
To gaze on the strange and lovely scene,
Before them—the vessel weirdly fair,
Around them—the water's crystal sheen.

Never in all their strange career
Had they made their dangerous deep descent
To a sea so beautiful, bright and clear,
Where the vessel lay all torn and spent.

As they stood entranced, a comrade approached
And beckoning, led the way before
Where the clear bright waters on all encroached,
'Till they halted before a cabin door;

Slightly ajar it stood, at their touch
Swinging back, to their eyes disclosed
A sight that held each enchanted, such
Was the heavenly vision that there reposed.

The heavy mahogany furniture stood
Each piece in its own appointed place,
Unmoved by the strong intruding flood
That pressed its way into every place;

In the upper berth of the cabin lay
A fair young lady, as if she slept,
From her brow the dark hair swept away
Like seaweed strands, in the glistening depth.

'Round her a gaily hued wrap was flung
Heavily, carelessly, as in mirth,
And one little jeweled hand was hung
Over the side of the upper berth.

Over her beautiful oval face,
Perfect in womanhood's early dawn,
And the dark brow's peaceful, pensive grace
Was left no sign that life was gone.

Dreamily the closed lids reposed
Their silken fringe on the rounded cheek,
Scarce had one started, had they unclosed
And the child-like lips have moved to speak;

And the crimson curtain drawn aside
The rings of its silver rod below,
(As if the fair vision loath to hide)
Cast into the berth its roseate glow.

Over two months had she slumbered there,
By that sea-water clear and cold embalmed;
Yet it seemed that the soul of that temple fair
Was only that morn by death's angel calmed.

The divers gazed on the scene impressed
With its solemn beauty, then went their way—
Softly, as not to disturb her rest,
For death seemed robbed of half his prey.

They were rude, unscrupulous, fearless men
These daring wrestlers who challenge the deep,
In ghastly scenes had they often been
Where silent sentinels vigil keep.

They plundered the beautiful barque (nor spake)
Embedded in coral and yellow sand,
But not one among them approached to take
The sparkling rings from the little hand.

In a few short weeks her lover sought
The deep sea-grave of his promised bride,
Their anchor they cast at the self-same spot
In the diver's armor he braved the tide—

Through the crystal waters he saw the wreck
Lit up with its dazzling tints as before,
He passed o'er the ruined sand-strewn deck
And followed the guide to the cabin door;

And there on her peaceful couch beheld
His promised bride in her watery tomb,
Ah! who can guess what emotion swelled
His heart, as he stood in that sea-lit room?

And they left her there, it were better so,
Sweetly to sleep in that upper berth,
In the crimson curtain's roseate glow,
Too fair for the dread decay of earth.

With her long dark hair on the wave afloat
Like seaweed strands on the waters flung,
Or clinging close to her fair white throat,
And one little hand o'er her high couch hung.

Then close the door gently, disturb her not,
And softly pass o'er the ruined deck;
No evil profanes the enchanted spot
Where sleepeth the lady of the wreck.