Spoken—Sept. 5, Lat. 47 41, Lon. 12, ship South Carolina, Owen, from Havre, for New-Orleans; (by the Rochester, at Cowes, from New Orleans, commanded by a son of Captain Owen. They had not seen each other for several years, and the weather being fine, Captain Owen of the Rochester made a visit to his parent.) Shipping List.
When amber skies hung o'er the wave,
And autumn winds were light,
And neither sea-fowl dipped his bill,
Nor petrel took her flight;
When o'er the ocean here and there
A tremulant ripple swept,
And on the vast Atlantic's breast
A deepening silence slept;
The captain of a gallant ship, with hearty sailors manned,
Paced slowly o'er the quarter-deck, and all the horizon scanned.
The stamp of youth not yet removed,
He trode with manly grace;
His heart unhurt by brooding woes,
No wrinkle marred his face;
Yet, with a brow sunburnt and broad,
An eye with eagle's fire,
A stalwart form, might well work out
Ambition's proud desire;
He for the moment felt a thrill as tender yet as wild
As e'er touched woman's bosom, or the heart of sunny child.
Afar, and yet how far it was!
A white speck caught his eye,
Most like the wing of some fair bird,
Between the wave and sky;
But though along the trackless deep
Such things were often seen,
The sailor's eye was moistened,
And he showed an altered mien;
Whoe'er could then have looked upon the compass of his soul,
Had marked the needle of quick joy point truly to Hope's pole.
'Make sail! make sail! ay, 'fore and aft,
Below, and up aloft;
Spread wide the billowy canvass,
To catch the breezes soft.
My spirit feels, that ere this day
Shall deepen into shade,
Or ere these winds shall all expire,
Or sunset colors fade,
I'll grasp a hand, and clasp a form, ungrasped, unclasped for years!'
'Ay, ay! make sail!' the seamen cried, 'stand by to haul, with cheers!'
Then glided fleetly o'er the wave
That tall and graceful ship,
While ripples murmured at her bow,
As words from woman's lip;
The dark keel glided onward,
O'er beds of tinted shell,
And shaded from the intruding sun
Full many a mermaid cell.
Joy was around her—joy above, as on her path she went,
Like some o'er-joyful messenger, on welcome errand sent.
As some white cloud which riseth up
Through Heaven's eternal blue,
That speck in the horizon rose,
And broader, larger grew.
Full soon three taper top-masts lie
Outlined against the sky,
And from the halliards, waving out,
Three well-known signals fly;
'Bear down! 'tis he! my noble Sire! as cherished on the seas
As when, a child, I clambered up, to prattle on his knees!'
Behold! two ships upon the deep,
With canvass partly furled,
And flags that droop along their masts,
By breezes scarcely curled:
No sound of flapping rope is heard,
No creak of heavy block;
But side by side, and easily,
Those meeting vessels rock.
'My son! my father!' Both have met upon that ocean-plain,
And thoughts of home and childhood-life crowd on their hearts again! New-Orleans, Oct., 1843. A. C. Ainsworth. |
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