the broad mysterious ocean leans The sailor o’er his vessel’s side, and feels The buzzing joys of home; wondering if fate Will bear him on to end his being there. Now pleased the housewife down the path descries Her husband’s footsteps hitherward; his meal p. 160Prepared, the children each made tidy; she With smiling comfort means to soothe her man, By labour wearied, through the evening hours. They whirl their life web, humming like a wheel, These airy insects. Birds have ceased to sing, But twitter faintly, settling to their rest; And not a rook’s caw rends the placid air. I must begone; but ere I go, will kneel To kiss this ivy—modest earthly type, That would with constant verdure grace her name, As I enshroud her memory with my love! For She has been the blessing that has nerved My strength in failing hours of blackest night, When doubts oppress and fears distract; and when Gigantic Evil’s hoofs are crushing good, And pity burns in terror; while, appalled, Blanched Justice shrinks aloof; and not a voice, The smallest, dares uplift itself against The dripping blood-red horror which pollutes With death and danger, heaven and earth and sea; When men’s belief grows wild, seeing alone p. 161The dreadful black abominable sin, Forgetful that the light still shines beyond; And doubting last the very truth of God, They hate their fellow creatures and themselves; Groaning beneath a Despot, who thinks less Of precious human blood, than shipwrights count Of water in the dock, so many feet Will bear so many tons, if it but aid One little step his brutalising aims, Who as an armed thief sacks his people’s wealth. Then shines my Love’s star-brightness thro’ the gloom; And comes, as comes a glorious Conqueror Returning from that Despot’s overthrow, His brow yet flashed and pale with victory: Whose prowess long withstood the charging shocks Of hosts that swarmed; who, baffling with his skill Their cunning combinations, in good time Closed his own force and wrought them utmost woe; Smashed the huge liners of the hostile fleet, p. 162Their swiftest frigates sank to watery hell: Others he scared like fowls; and trailed the rest In foamed victorious wake, a captured prize, Where thronged his people stand in proud acclaim Of “Welcome, Welcome, Welcome! To our hearts O Saviour of thy country! to our hearts O Father of thy people! welcome back!” And shout in exultation his dear name; Who moves through storms of music, and beholds Gay seas of faces tossed with happiness, And lit through rapture into wondering awe. And as that grateful multitude forgets Whatever wrong he may have done, do I My scathing sorrow, and embrace the good.

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