With a shudder he sees on the golden sand trail A fearsome sea-monster, with hideous green tail-- A tail covered over with scales like a snake, Its quivering coils in death-agony shake. The foam from her forehead is pouring in streams, And the darkness of death from her closing eye gleams; Her pale hands are clutching the sands of the sea, And of purport unknown a reproach whispers she. Afar rides the Prince--deep in thought rideth he; For long years he’ll remember “the Queen of the Sea.” _THE PROPHET._ Since the Eternal Judge to me The Prophets’ power of vision lent, In human eyes I read, and see Pages of vice and folly blent. To preach of love when I began, Teaching of truth and purity, My neighbours all, like devils, ran And took up stones to throw at me. Upon my head I ashes cast, And from the towns, a beggar, fled; And now I dwell in deserts vast, Just like the birds, by God’s hand fed. Keeping the laws of Providence, The brute creation serveth me; The stars hear me with confidence, With bright rays playing joyously. When through the noisy city’s way I hurry onwards, in distraction, The old men to the children say, With smile of selfish satisfaction-- “Behold, from him a warning take! He was too proud with us to dwell; The fool! That God through his lips spake-- This was the tale he strove to tell. “Look, children! on him cast your eyes! How sad he is! how thin and pallid! How naked, and how poor and squalid! How all the wretched man despise!” _WHEN--THEN._ When waves of shadow fret the yellowing fields; When freshly hum the woods to Zephyr’s play; When on the garden walls the reddening plums, Hiding themselves, in leafy ambush sway; When freshly washed in heavy-scented dews (While evening red or golden morning glows), From ’neath the hedge to me, with welcoming bows, Her silver head the waving lily shows; When sports the snow-cold runlet down the dale, Plunging my restless thoughts in pensive dreams, Whispering to me some deep mysterious tale Of that reposeful source from whence it streams;-- _Then_ in my soul calm peace succeeds alarm, Upon my brow dissolves the furrowed frown; On earth I catch of happiness the charm; From heaven I see the Godhead looking down. _MY NATIVE LAND._ I love my land, but with a love so strange That reason over it no victory knows. Her glory, bought in bloodshed’s stern exchange, Her ever-confident and proud repose, The sacred annals of her ancient might, Arouse in me no fancies of delight.