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Coral and sea-fan and tangle, the blooms and the palms of

the ocean.

Onward they came in their joy, more white than the foam

which they scattered,

Laughing and singing and tossing and twining, while eager, the Tritons

Blinded with kisses their eyes, unreproved, and above them in worship

Hovered the terns, and the sea-gulls swept past them on

silvery pinions,

Echoing softly their laughter; around them the wantoning dolphins

Sighed as they plunged, full of love; and the great seahorses which bore them

Curved up their crests in their pride to the delicate arms of the maidens,

Pawing the spray into gems, till a fiery rainfall, unharming, Sparkled and gleamed on the limbs of the nymphs, and the coils of the mermen.

Onward they went in their joy, bathed round with the fiery coolness,

Needing nor sun nor moon, self-lighted, immortal: but others, Pitiful, floated in silence apart; in their bosoms the sea

boys,

Slain by the wrath of the seas, swept down by the anger of Nereus ;

Hapless, whom never again on strand or on quay shall their mothers

Welcome with garlands and vows to the temple, but wearily pining,

F

Gaze over island and bay for the sails of the sunken; they heedless

Sleep in soft bosoms for ever, and dream of the surge and the sea-maids.

C. KINGSLEY.

[From The Spanish Gipsy, Book i.]

HE Mid Sea that moans with memories.

THE

GEORGE ELIOT.

[From The Spanish Gipsy, Book i.]

'HE untravelled ocean's restless tides.

THE

GEORGE ELIOT.

[From The Spanish Gipsy, Book iv.]

PUSH off the boat,

Quit, quit the shore,

The stars will guide us back :

O gathering cloud,

O wide, wide sea,

O waves that keep no track!

GEORGE ELIOT.

[From A Minor Prophet.]

'HE sense of vastness, when at night

THE

We hear the roll and dash of waves that break

Nearer and nearer with the rushing tide,

Which rises to the level of the cliff

Because the wide Atlantic rolls behind

Throbbing respondent to the far-off orbs.

GEORGE ELIOT.

[From Home at last.]

`EAR not, my child!

FEAR

Though the waves are white and high,

And the storm blows wild

Through the gloomy sky;

On the edge of the western sea,
See that line of golden light,

Is the haven bright
Where home is awaiting thee;
Where, this peril past,

We shall rest from our stormy voyage

In peace at last.

Be not afraid;

But give me thy hand, and see

How the waves have made

A cradle for thee.

Night is come, dear, and we shall rest;

So turn from the angry skies,

And close thine eyes,

And lay thy head on my breast:
Child, do not weep;

In the calm, cold, purple depths

There we shall sleep.

ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.

[From Unexpressed.]

WAVES of an unfathomable sea.

A. A. PROCTER.

[From A Legend of Provence.]

ALL still, all silent, save the sobbing rush

Of rippling waves, that lapsed in silver hush

Upon the beach; where, glittering towards the strand, The purple Mediterranean kissed the land.

A. A. PROCTER.

The Sea-Limits.

CONSIDER the sea's listless chime ;

Time's self it is, made audible,

The murmur of the earth's own shell.

Secret continuance sublime

Is the sea's end: our sight may pass No furlong further. Since time was, This sound hath told the lapse of time.

No quiet, which is death's,—it hath
The mournfulness of ancient life,
Enduring always at dull strife.

As the world's heart of rest and wrath,
Its painful pulse is in the sands.
Last utterly, the whole sky stands,
Grey and not known, along its path.

Listen alone besides the sea,

Listen alone among the woods;
Those voices of twin solitudes

Shall have one sound alike to thee:

Hark where the murmurs of thronged men

Surge and sink back and surge again,—

Still the one voice of wave and tree.

Gather a shell from the strown beach
And listen at its lips: they sigh
The same desire and mystery,
The echo of the whole sea's speech.
And all mankind is thus at heart
Not anything but what thou art:
And Earth, Sea, Man, are all in each.

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

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