They passed the gray rocks of Cape Ann, And Gloucester's harbor-bar; The watch-fire of the garrison Shone like a setting star. How brightly broke the morning On Massachusetts Bay! Blue wave, and bright green island, Rejoicing in the day. On passed the bark in safety Round isle and headland steep; No tempest broke above them, No fog-cloud veiled the deep. Far round the bleak and stormy Cape The venturous Macy passed, And on Nantucket's naked isle Drew up his boat at last. And how, in log-built cabin, They braved the rough sea-weather; And there, in peace and quietness, Went down life's vale together; How others drew around them, And how their fishing sped, Until to every wind of heaven Nantucket's sails were spread; How pale Want alternated With Plenty's golden smile; Behold, is it not written In the annals of the isle? And yet that isle remaineth A refuge of the free, As when true-hearted Macy Beheld it from the sea. Free as the winds that winnow Her shrubless hills of sand, Free as the waves that batter Along her yielding land. Than hers, at duty's summons, No loftier spirit stirs, Nor falls o'er human suffering A readier tear then hers. God bless the sea-beat island! And grant forevermore, That charity and freedom dwell As now upon her shore! 1841. THE KNIGHT OF ST. JOHN. ERE down yon blue Carpathian hills The sun shall sink again, Farewell to life and all its ills, Farewell to cell and chain! These prison shades are dark and cold, But, darker far than they, The shadow of a sorrow old Is on my heart alway. For since the day when Warkworth wood Closed o'er my steed, and I, An alien from my name and blood, A weed cast out to die,-- When, looking back in sunset light, I saw her turret gleam, And from its casement, far and white, Her sign of farewell stream, Like one who, from some desert shore, Doth home's green isles descry, And, vainly longing, gazes o'er The waste of wave and sky; So from the desert of my fate I gaze across the past; Forever on life's dial-plate The shade is backward cast! I've wandered wide from shore to shore, I've knelt at many a shrine; And bowed me to the rocky floor Where Bethlehem's tapers shine; And by the Holy Sepulchre I've pledged my knightly sword To Christ, His blessed Church, and her, The Mother of our Lord. Oh, vain the vow, and vain the strife! How vain do all things seem! My soul is in the past, and life To-day is but a dream. In vain the penance strange and long, And hard for flesh to bear; The prayer, the fasting, and the thong, And sackcloth shirt of hair.