And now to the merciless surges they launch her, And back she is flung to the white-pebbled beach! Now cleaves the wild surf, for never a stauncher, Or braver crew mounted a deadlier breach. Now swift o'er the waves madly bounding and dashing! The nobly manned life-boat speeds on her lone way, Now sinks she below, the waves o'er her splashing, Now cleaves like arrow, the white foaming spray. And now for a moment she's hid from our vision, As darkness, and thick gloom enshroud her frail form; A flash! and we see that the life-saving mission, Still skims o'er the waves like a Bird of the Storm. Hurrah! they have triumphed! the wrecked ones no longer Resignedly list to the ocean's hoarse roar; But now with strong arms, that bright Hope has made stronger, They pull with a hearty good-will for the shore. Hurrah! and Hurrah! on the whirlwind's commotion, And the howl of the storm, uprose cheers from the land; From hearts throbbing wildly with grateful emotion, As safely she reaches the surf-beaten strand. The Æronaut's Song. Up! up! from the ground, for the chords that bound Us to earth are rent in twain; And our Aerial boat shall gracefully float, Far, far, o'er the sea and main. O'er the forest trees, on the rippling breeze, We'll proudly soar away: And higher and higher, will still aspire, Toward realms of endless day. To regions on high, like an arrow we fly, Through limitless fields of air; And away apace, through trackless space, The giddiest flight we dare. Earth's brilliance fades, and her everglades Assumes a softer hue; Her hills and dales, her lake gemmed vales Are glorious to the view. Meandering round enchanted ground, Earth's crystal rivers seem; So far below to brightly flow, Like liquid silver's stream. Her cloud capped hills o'er rocks and rills, That proudly seem to stand, Now fade like gleams in passing dreams Of lovely fairy land. Yet on we mount to the drainless fount, Of wild tempestuous storms; And our fairy shrouds now kiss the clouds; In all their varied forms. Proud man, who at birth was king of the earth, Soon made himself lord of the sea; And now we arise to empyrean skies, For kings of the air are we. Grim centuries old to the past have rolled, Since the stars from chaos-woke; Yet no earth-born sound hath this deep, profound And solemn silence broke. The highest note of the lark ne'er floats To this region of sunless cloud; Nor hath eagle bird the silence stir'd, With his screaming, shrill and loud. Yet our joyous song, as we sweep along In pathless realms afloat, Rings on the air and trembles there, From out our fairy boat. On eddying waves a thousand caves, Where Aerial spirits throng, Repeat each tone as though they'd known Our unfamiliar song.