Sea Piece

SUBLIME is thy prospect, thou proud-rolling Ocean,
    And Fancy surveys thee with solemn delight;
When thy mountainous billows are wild in commotion,
    And the tempest is roused by the spirits of night !

When the moon-beams thro' winter-clouds faintly appearing,
    At intervals gleam on the dark-swelling wave;
And the mariner, dubious, now hoping, now fearing,
    May hear the stern Genius of hurricanes rave !

But now, when thine anger has long been subsiding,
    And the tempest has folded the might of its wing;
How clear is thy surface, in loveliness gliding,
    For April has opened the portals of spring !

Now soft on thy bosom the orient is beaming,
    And tremulous breezes are waving thy breast;
On thy mirror the clouds and the shadows are streaming,
    And morning and glory the picture have drest !

No gale but the balmy Favonian is blowing,
    In coral-caves resting, the winds are asleep;
And, rich in the sun-beam, yon pendants are glowing,
    That tinge with their colours the silvery deep !

Yet smile or be dreadful, thou still-changing Ocean,
    Tremendous or lovely, resistless or still;
I view thee adoring, with hallow'd emotion,
    The Power that can hush or arouse thee at will !