A Ship to Christ devoted From the Land of Nile did go; 360 Alas! the bright Ship floated, An Idol at her prow. By magic domination, The Heaven-permitted vent Of purblind mortal passion, 365 Was wrought her punishment. The Flower, the Form within it, What served they in her need? Her port she could not win it, Nor from mishap be freed. 370 The tempest overcame her, And she was seen no more; But gently, gently blame her-- She cast a Pearl ashore. The Maid to Jesu hearkened, 375 And kept to him her faith, Till sense in death was darkened, Or sleep akin to death. But Angels round her pillow Kept watch, a viewless band; 380 And, billow favouring billow, She reached the destined strand. Blest Pair! whate'er befal you, Your faith in Him approve Who from frail earth can call you 385 To bowers of endless love! FOOTNOTES: [668] 1837. ... set forth with wondrous transformation. 1835. [669] 1837. ... though sad not cheerless. 1835. [670] 1837. ... shore 1835. [671] Compare _Paradise Lost_, book i. l. 768.--ED. THE POET AND THE CAGED TURTLEDOVE[672] Composed 1830.--Published 1835 [Written at Rydal Mount. This dove was one of a pair that had been given to my daughter by our excellent friend, Miss Jewsbury,[673] who went to India with her husband, Mr. Fletcher, where she died of cholera. The dove survived its mate many years, and was killed, to our great sorrow, by a neighbour's cat that got in at the window and dragged it partly out of the cage. These verses were composed extempore, to the letter, in the Terrace Summer-house before spoken of. It was the habit of the bird to begin cooing and murmuring whenever it heard me making my verses.--I.F.] One of the "Poems of the Fancy."--ED. As often as I murmur here My half-formed melodies, Straight from her osier mansion near, The Turtledove replies: Though silent as a leaf before, 5 The captive promptly coos; Is it to teach her own soft lore, Or second my weak Muse? I rather think, the gentle Dove Is murmuring a reproof, 10 Displeased that I from lays of love Have dared to keep aloof; That I, a Bard of hill and dale, Have carolled, fancy free,[674] As if nor dove nor nightingale, 15 Had heart or voice for me.