And that breach in the tempest is widening away, And the caverns of cloud are torn up by the day, And the fierce winds are sinking with weary wings,

Lulled by the motion and murmurings,

And the long glassy heave of the rocking sea,
And over head glorious, but dreadful to see,
The wrecks of the tempest, like vapours of gold,
Are consuming in sunrise. The heaped waves
behold,

The deep calm of blue heaven dilating above,
And, like passions made still by the presence of
Love,

Beneath the clear surface reflecting it slide Tremulous with soft influence; extending its

tide

From the Andes to Atlas, round mountain and

isle,

Round sea-birds and wrecks, paved with heaven's azure smile,

The wide world of waters is vibrating.

Where

Is the ship? On the verge of the wave where

it lay

One tiger is mingled in ghastly affray

With a sea-snake. The foam and the smoke of

the battle

Stain the clear air with sunbows; the jar, and the rattle

Of solid bones crushed by the infinite stress
Of the snake's adamantine voluminousness;
And the hum of the hot blood that spouts and
rains

Where the gripe of the tiger has wounded the veins,

Swollen with rage, strength, and effort; the whirl and the splash

As of some hideous engine whose brazen teeth

smash

The thin winds and soft waves into thunder! the

screams

And hissings crawl fast o'er the smooth ocean

streams,

Each sound like a centipede. Near this commotion,

A blue shark is hanging within the blue ocean,
The fin-winged tomb of the victor. The other
Is winning his way from the fate of his brother,
To his own with the speed of despair.
Lo! a

boat

Advances; twelve rowers with the impulse of

thought

Urge on the keen keel, the brine foams. At the

stern

Three marksmen stand levelling. Hot bullets

burn

In the breast of the tiger, which yet bears him on To his refuge and ruin. One fragment alone, 'Tis dwindling and sinking, 'tis now almost gone,

Of the wreck of the vessel peers out of the sea. With her left hand she grasps it impetuously, With her right she sustains her fair infant. Death, Fear,

Love, Beauty, are mixed in the atmosphere. Which trembles and burns with the fervour of

dread

Around her wild eyes, her bright hand, and her head,

Like a meteor of light o'er the waters! her child Is yet smiling, and playing, and murmuring: so

smiled

The false deep ere the storm. Like a sister and brother

The child and the ocean still smile on each other, Whilst

LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY.

THE fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle-
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea ;-
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

THE CLOUD.

I.

I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;,

I bear light shades for the leaves when laid
In their noon-day dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of the lashing hail,

And whiten the green plains under,

And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

II.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast ;

And all the night 'tis my pillow white,

While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers,
Lightning my pilot sits,

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,
It struggles and howls at fits;

Over earth and ocean with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,

Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,
Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

III.

The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

When the morning star shines dead.

As on the jag of a mountain crag,

Which an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle alit one moment may sit

In the light of its golden wings.

And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

Its ardours of rest and of love,

And the crimson pall of eve may fall