The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Fifth

Such are thy views, DISCOVERY! The great world
  Rolls to thine eye revealed; to thee the Deep
  Submits its awful empire; Industry
  Awakes, and Commerce to the echoing marts
  From east to west unwearied pours her wealth.
  Man walks sublimer; and Humanity,
  Matured by social intercourse, more high,
  More animated, lifts her sovereign mien,
  And waves her golden sceptre. Yet the heart
  Asks trembling, is no evil found! Oh, turn, 
  Meek Charity, and drop a human tear
  For the sad fate of Afric's injured sons,
  And hide, for ever hide, the sight of chains,
  Anguish, and bondage! Yes, the heart of man
  Is sick, and Charity turns pale, to think
  How soon, for pure religion's holy beam,
  Dark crimes, that sullied the sweet day, pursued,
  Like vultures, the Discoverer's ocean tract,
  Screaming for blood, to fields of rich Peru,
  Or ravaged Mexico, while Gold more Gold! 
  The caverned mountains echoed, Gold more Gold!
  Then see the fell-eyed, prowling buccaneer,
  Grim as a libbard! He his jealous look
  Turns to the dagger at his belt, his hand
  By instinct grasps a bloody scymitar,
  And ghastly is his smile, as o'er the woods
  He sees the smoke of burning villages
  Ascend, and thinks ev'n now he counts his spoil.
  See thousands destined to the lurid mine,
  Never to see the sun again; all names 
  Of husband, sire, all tender charities
  Of love, deep buried with them in that grave,
  Where life is as a thing long passed; and hope
  No more its sickly ray, to cheer the gloom,
  Extends.
  Thou, too, dread Ocean, toss thine arms,
  Exulting, for the treasures and the gems
  That thy dark oozy realm emblaze; and call
  The pale procession of the dead, from caves
  Where late their bodies weltered, to attend 
  Thy kingly sceptre, and proclaim thy might!
  Lord of the Hurricane! bid all thy winds
  Swell, and destruction ride upon the surge,
  Where, after the red lightning flash that shows
  The labouring ship, all is at once deep night
  And long suspense, till the slow dawn of day
  Gleams on the scattered corses of the dead,
  That strew the sounding shore!
  Then think of him,
  Ye who rejoice with those you love, at eve, 
  When winds of winter shake the window-frame,
  And more endear your fire, oh, think of him,
  Who, saved alone from the destroying storm,
  Is cast on some deserted rock; who sees
  Sun after sun descend, and hopeless hears;
  At morn the long surge of the troubled main,
  That beats without his wretched cave; meantime
  He fears to wake the echoes with his voice,
  So dread the solitude!
  Let Greenland's snows 
  Then shine, and mark the melancholy train
  There left to perish, whilst the cold pale day
  Declines along the further ice, that binds
  The ship, and leaves in night the sinking scene.
  Sad winter closes on the deep; the smoke
  Of frost, that late amusive to the eye
  Rose o'er the coast, is passed, and all is now
  One torpid blank; the freezing particles
  Blown blistering, and the white bear seeks her cave.
  Ill-fated outcasts, when the morn again 
  Shall streak with feeble beam the frozen waste,
  Your air-bleached and unburied carcases
  Shall press the ground, and, as the stars fade off,
  Your stony eyes glare 'mid the desert snows!
  These triumphs boast, fell Demon of the Deep!
  Though never more the universal shriek
  Of all that perish thou shalt hear, as when
  The deep foundations of the guilty earth
  Were shaken at the voice of God, and man
  Ceased in his habitations; yet the sea 
  Thy might tempestuous still, and joyless rule,
  Confesses. Ah! what bloodless shadows throng
  Ev'n now, slow rising from their oozy beds,
  From Mete, and those gates of burial
  That guard the Erythraean; from the vast
  Unfathomed caverns of the Western main
  Or stormy Orcades; whilst the sad shell
  Of poor Arion, to the hollow blast
  Slow seems to pour its melancholy tones,
  And faintly vibrate, as the dead pass by. 
  I see the chiefs, who fell in distant lands,
  The prey of murderous savages, when yells,
  And shouts, and conch, resounded through the woods.
  Magellan and De Solis seem to lead
  The mournful train. Shade of Perouse! oh, say
  Where, in the tract of unknown seas, thy bones
  Th' insulting surge has swept?
  But who is he,
  Whose look, though pale and bloody, wears the trace
  Of pure philanthropy? The pitying sigh 
  Forbid not; he was dear to Britons, dear
  To every beating heart, far as the world
  Extends; and my faint faltering touch ev'n now
  Dies on the strings, when I pronounce thy name,
  Oh, lost, lamented, generous, hapless Cook!
  But cease the vain complaint; turn from the shores,
  Wet with his blood, Remembrance: cast thine eyes
  Upon the long seas, and the wider world,
  Displayed from his research. Smile, glowing Health!
  For now no more the wasted seaman sinks, 
  With haggard eye and feeble frame diseased;
  No more with tortured longings for the sight
  Of fields and hillocks green, madly he calls
  On Nature, when before his swimming eye
  The liquid long expanse of cheerless seas
  Seems all one flowery plain. Then frantic dreams
  Arise; his eye's distemper'd flash is seen
  From the sunk socket, as a demon there
  Sat mocking, till he plunges in the flood,
  And the dark wave goes o'er him. 
  Nor wilt thou,
  O Science! fail to deck the cold morai
  Of him who wider o'er earth's hemisphere
  Thy views extended. On, from deep to deep,
  Thou shalt retrace the windings of his track;
  From the high North to where the field-ice binds
  The still Antarctic. Thence, from isle to isle,
  Thou shalt pursue his progress; and explore
  New-Holland's eastern shores, where now the sons
  Of distant Britain, from her lap cast out, 
  Water the ground with tears of penitence,
  Perhaps, hereafter, in their destined time,
  Themselves to rise pre-eminent. Now speed,
  By Asia's eastern bounds, still to the North,
  Where the vast continents of either world
  Approach: Beyond, 'tis silent boundless ice,
  Impenetrable barrier, where all thought
  Is lost; where never yet the eagle flew,
  Nor roamed so far the white bear through the waste.
  But thou, dread POWER! whose voice from chaos called 
  The earth, who bad'st the Lord of light go forth,
  Ev'n as a giant, and the sounding seas
  Roll at thy fiat: may the dark deep clouds,
  That thy pavilion shroud from mortal sight,
  So pass away, as now the mystery,
  Obscure through rolling ages, is disclosed;
  How man, from one great Father sprung, his race
  Spread to that severed continent! Ev'n so,
  FATHER, in thy good time, shall all things stand
  Revealed to knowledge. 
  As the mind revolves
  The change of mighty empires, and the fate
  Of HIM whom Thou hast made, back through the dusk
  Of ages Contemplation turns her view:
  We mark, as from its infancy, the world
  Peopled again, from that mysterious shrine
  That rested on the top of Ararat,
  Highest of Asian mountains; spreading on,
  The Cushites from their mountain caves descend;
  Then before GOD the sons of Ammon stood 
  In their gigantic might, and first the seas
  Vanquished: But still from clime to clime the groan
  Of sacrifice, and Superstition's cry,
  Was heard; but when the Dayspring rose of heaven,
  Greece's hoar forests echoed, The great Pan
  Is dead! From Egypt, and the rugged shores
  Of Syrian Tyre, the gods of darkness fly;
  Bel is cast down, and Nebo, horrid king,
  Bows in imperial Babylon: But, ah!
  Too soon, the Star of Bethlehem, whose ray 
  The host of heaven hailed jubilant, and sang,
  Glory to God on high, and on earth peace,
  With long eclipse is veiled.
  Red Papacy
  Usurped the meek dominion of the Lord
  Of love and charity: vast as a fiend
  She rose, Heaven's light was darkened with her frown,
  And the earth murmured back her hymns of blood,
  As the meek martyr at the burning stake
  Stood, his last look uplifted to his GOD! 
  But she is now cast down, her empire reft.
  They who in darkness walked, and in the shade
  Of death, have seen a new and holy light,
  As in th' umbrageous forest, through whose boughs,
  Mossy and damp, for many a league, the morn
  With languid beam scarce pierces, here and there
  Touching some solitary trunk, the rest
  Dark waving in the noxious atmosphere:
  Through the thick-matted leaves the serpent winds
  His way, to find a spot of casual sun; 
  The gaunt hyaena through the thicket glides
  At eve: then, too, the couched tiger's eye
  Flames in the dusk, and oft the gnashing jaws
  Of the fell crocodile are heard. At length,
  By man's superior energy and toil,
  The sunless brakes are cleared; the joyous morn
  Shines through the opening leaves; rich culture smiles
  Around; and howling to their distant wilds
  The savage inmates of the wood retire.
  Such is the scene of human life, till want 
  Bids man his strength put forth; then slowly spreads
  The cultured stream of mild humanity,
  And gentler virtues, and more noble aims
  Employ the active mind, till beauty beams
  Around, and Nature wears her richest robe,
  Adorned with lovelier graces. Then the charms
  Of woman, fairest of the works of Heaven,
  Whom the cold savage, in his sullen pride,
  Scorned as unworthy of his equal love,
  With more attractive influence wins the heart 
  Of her protector. Then the names of sire,
  Of home, of brother, and of children, grow
  More sacred, more endearing; whilst the eye,
  Lifted beyond this earthly scene, beholds
  A Father who looks down from heaven on all!
  O Britain, my loved country! dost thou rise
  Most high among the nations! Do thy fleets
  Ride o'er the surge of ocean, that subdued
  Rolls in long sweep beneath them! Dost thou wear
  Thy garb of gentler morals gracefully! 
  Is widest science thine, and the fair train
  Of lovelier arts! While commerce throngs thy ports
  With her ten thousand streamers, is the tract
  Of the undeviating ploughshare white
  That rips the reeking furrow, followed soon
  By plenty, bidding all the scene rejoice,
  Even like a cultured garden! Do the streams
  That steal along thy peaceful vales, reflect
  Temples, and Attic domes, and village towers!
  Is beauty thine, fairest of earthly things, 
  Woman; and doth she gain that liberal love
  And homage, which the meekness of her voice,
  The rapture of her smile, commanding most
  When she seems weakest, must demand from him,
  Her master; whose stern strength at once submits
  In manly, but endearing, confidence,
  Unlike his selfish tyranny who sits
  The sultan of his harem!
  Oh, then, think
  How great the blessing, and how high thy rank 
  Amid the civilised and social world!
  But hast thou no deep failings, that may turn
  Thy thoughts within thyself! Ask, for the sun
  That shines in heaven hath seen it, hath thy power
  Ne'er scattered sorrow over distant lands!
  Ask of the East, have never thy proud sails
  Borne plunder from dismembered provinces,
  Leaving the groans of miserable men
  Behind! And free thyself, and lifting high
  The charter of thy freedom, bought with blood, 
  Hast thou not stood, in patient apathy,
  A witness of the tortures and the chains
  That Afric's injured sons have known! Stand up;
  Yes, thou hast visited the caves, and cheered
  The gloomy haunts of sorrow; thou hast shed
  A beam of comfort and of righteousness
  On isles remote; hast bid the bread-fruit shade
  Th' Hesperian regions, and has softened much
  With bland amelioration, and with charms
  Of social sweetness, the hard lot of man. 
  But weighed in truth's firm balance, ask, if all
  Be even. Do not crimes of ranker growth
  Batten amid thy cities, whose loud din,
  From flashing and contending cars, ascends,
  Till morn! Enchanting, as if aught so sweet
  Ne'er faded, do thy daughters wear the weeds
  Of calm domestic peace and wedded love;
  Or turn, with beautiful disdain, to dash
  Gay pleasure's poisoned chalice from their lips
  Untasted! Hath not sullen atheism, 
  Weaving gay flowers of poesy, so sought
  To hide the darkness of his withered brow
  With faded and fantastic gallantry
  Of roses, thus to win the thoughtless smile
  Of youthful ignorance! Hast thou with awe
  Looked up to Him whose power is in the clouds,
  Who bids the storm rush, and it sweeps to earth
  The nations that offend, and they are gone,
  Like Tyre and Babylon! Well weigh thyself:
  Then shalt thou rise undaunted in the might 
  Of thy Protector, and the gathered hate
  Of hostile bands shall be but as the sand
  Blown on the everlasting pyramid.
  Hasten, O Love and Charity! your work,
  Ev'n now whilst it is day; far as the world
  Extends may your divinest influence
  Be felt, and more than felt, to teach mankind
  They all are brothers, and to drown the cries
  Of superstition, anarchy, or blood!
  Not yet the hour is come: on Ganges' banks 
  Still superstition hails the flame of death,
  Behold, gay dressed, as in her bridal tire,
  The self-devoted beauteous victim slow
  Ascend the pile where her dead husband lies:
  She kisses his cold cheeks, inclines her breast
  On his, and lights herself the fatal pile
  That shall consume them both!
  On Egypt's shore,
  Where Science rose, now Sloth and Ignorance
  Sleep like the huge Behemoth in the sun! 
  The turbaned Moor still stains with strangers' blood
  The inmost sands of Afric. But all these
  The light shall visit, and that vaster tract
  From Fuego to the furthest Labrador,
  Where roam the outcast Esquimaux, shall hear
  The voice of social fellowship; the chief
  Whose hatchet flashed amid the forest gloom,
  Who to his infants bore the bleeding scalp
  Of his fall'n foe, shall weep unwonted tears!
  Come, Faith; come, Hope; come, meek-eyed Charity! 
  Complete the lovely prospect: every land
  Shall lift up one hosannah; every tongue
  Proclaim thee FATHER, INFINITE, and WISE,
  And GOOD. The shores of palmy Senegal
  (Sad Afric's injured sons no more enslaved)
  Shall answer HALLELUJAH, for the LORD
  Of truth and mercy reigns;--reigns KING OF KINGS;--
  HOSANNAH--KING OF KINGS--and LORD OF LORDS!
  So may His kingdom come, when all the earth,
  Uniting thus as in one hymn of praise, 
  Shall wait the end of all things. This great globe,
  His awful plan accomplished, then shall sink
  In flames, whilst through the clouds, that wrap the place
  Where it had rolled, and the sun shone, the voice
  Of the ARCHANGEL, and the TRUMP OF GOD,
  Amid heaven's darkness rolling fast away,
  Shall sound!
  Then shall the sea give up its dead;--
  But man's immortal mind, all trials past
  That shook his feverish frame, amidst the scenes 
  Of peril and distemper, shall ascend
  Exulting to its destined seat of rest,
  And "justify His ways" from whom it sprung.