At Tynemouth Priory

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AFTER A TEMPESTUOUS VOYAGE.

  As slow I climb the cliff's ascending side,
  Much musing on the track of terror past,
  When o'er the dark wave rode the howling blast,
  Pleased I look back, and view the tranquil tide
  That laves the pebbled shore: and now the beam
  Of evening smiles on the gray battlement,
  And yon forsaken tower that time has rent:--
  The lifted oar far off with transient gleam
  Is touched, and hushed is all the billowy deep!
  Soothed by the scene, thus on tired Nature's breast
  A stillness slowly steals, and kindred rest;
  While sea-sounds lull her, as she sinks to sleep,
  Like melodies that mourn upon the lyre,
  Waked by the breeze, and, as they mourn, expire!

© William Lisle Bowles