Noon's sapphire, or the saffron glow of eve, And all thy balmier hours, fair Element! Have such divine complexion—crisped smiles, Luxuriant heavings, and sweet whisperings,— That little is the wonder, Love's own Queen From thee of old was fabled to have sprung— Creation's common ! which no human power Can parcel or enclose ; the lordliest floods And cataracts, that the tiny hands of man Can tame, conduct, or bound, are drops of dew To thee, that couldst subdue the Earth itself, And brook'st commandment from the heavens alone For marshalling thy waves.
Yet, potent Sea! How placidly thy moist lips speak ev'n now Along yon sparkling shingles ! Who can be So fanciless, as to feel no gratitude That power and grandeur can be so serene, Soothing the home-bound navy's peaceful way, And rocking e'en the fisher's little bark As gently as a mother rocks her child ?
The inhabitants of other worlds behold
Our orb more lucid for thy spacious share
On earth's rotundity; and is he not
A blind worm in the dust, great Deep!—the man
Who sees not, or who seeing, has no joy
In thy magnificence ? What though thou art
Unconscious and material, thou canst reach
The inmost immaterial mind's recess,
And with thy tints and motion stir its chords
To music, like the light on Memnon's lyre !
The Spirit of the Universe in thee