  BY THE LATE J. HUNTINGTON BRIGHT, ESQ. I love thy sea-washed coast, Nahant!—I love Thine everlasting cliffs, which tower above; I love to linger there, when day-light fades, And evening hangs above her sombre shades, And lights her pale lamps in the world on high, And o'er the rough rocks throws her purple hue; While ocean's heaving tides Are beating round thy sides, Flinging their foam-wreaths to the sky, And flakes of fire seem bursting through Each swelling wave of liquid blue! Tradition lends to thee no hallowed tone; Ne'er on thy beach was heard the spirit's moan; Yet there's a charm about thee: here I've roved, In being's blossom, with the forms I loved; And they have faded; many a heart which sprung Fresh into life when hope and joy were young, Moulders in dust; and many a buoyant breast, Which swelled with rapture then, is laid at rest; And many a heart hath met the blight, And many an eye is closed in night, And many a bosom long will mourn For those who never can return! Each one of us who wander here, And sport within life's little day, At eve shall sleep upon the bier, Our hopes, our promise, passed away: But thou remain'st! Thy rugged rocks Shall long withstand time's rudest shocks, And other feet as light shall tread Thy wave-bound isle, when we are dead! Yes, man must bloom and fade, must rise and fall, Till nature spreads at length o'er earth her pall; Then shalt thou sink in chaos! Ay, thy name Will fall in ruin, and the roll of fame Shall be a blot; and earth too, and her cherished, In time's oblivious wreck will all have perished! Then may our souls to that bright world arise, Where beauty withers not, nor virtue dies. August 19, 1834. |
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