Читать книгу The Lions' Gate and Other Verses - Lily Alice Cooke Lefevre - Страница 7

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[The wreck of the “Beaver” lies near the entrance of Vancouver harbour, within a short distance of the course of the Empresses, the new steamships of the Canadian Pacific Railway. The “Beaver” was the pioneer steamer of the Pacific Ocean—1835.]

A broken hulk, forlorn and lost am I,

Above me frown the cliffs in ramparts high,

Beneath on rocky ledge

I stranded lie.

Around, the hungry waves await their prey,

They surge above my head and day by day

I crumble as they steal

My life away.

Yet not alone despoiled by wind and wave,

But Man whom I have served, disdains to save,

And robs me as I sink

Into my grave.

The sea-weed damp and chill binds fast my breast,

Yet deep below in passionate unrest

There stirs a hope, a dream

Unknown, unguessed.

At morn, when the first ray of daylight creeps

Through clinging mists where soft the darkness sleeps,

And faintly trembles down

To dusky deeps,—

At noon, when clear and bright the waters spread

And Ocean scarcely moves to rock my bed,

While droops the golden moss

Above my head,—

At eve, when shadows fall and winds are free,

And moaning surges call aloud for me

To sink to sleep at last

Beneath the sea,—

Still do I gaze afar, still do I wait,

Watching for her who comes in royal state

To sweep majestic through

The Lion’s Gate!

Great Empress, proud, serene! thy coming fleet

Announced by herald echoes wild and sweet,

The purple hills proclaim,

The vales repeat.

To my dull vision, from the world apart,

Thou seem’st a miracle of magic art,

Strange forces throb and glow

Within thy heart!

Fair white Enchantress, from the Orient sped!

Its fragrance and its spice around thee shed

Still lingering incense breathe

About thy head.

Above thy path the gleaming sea-gulls fly,

Like mystic spirits weave in circles high

A charm of waving wings

Against the sky!

I know thou dost not heed my dreary lot,

Nor mark in passing by the lonely spot

Where desolate I lie

By all forgot.

The Past am I, but yet thou canst not chide

The worship thou hast won from ancient pride

Whose youth once challenged Fate,

And Time defied.

For had I never crossed this Western sea,

Nor braved its wrath to find a path for thee,

Where then thy stately grace

Secure and free?

I toiled through calm and storm for many a year,

While yet th’untrodden forest slumbered here,

Of progress, faith and peace

The pioneer.

And Science made me strong to prove her worth

Her dawning light was shed upon my birth,

Whose glory now is spread

Through all the earth!

But now my work is done—I sink to rest—

Fair Empress! may the wave thou hast caressed

In music murmur still

Above my breast.

And when at midnight’s hour thou drawest nigh

And softly through the mists that sleeping lie

The star upon thy brow

Is gliding by—

Oh, may its light that trembles o’er my tomb

With dreams of thee steal downwards through the gloom,

Where I beneath the sea

Have found my doom!