New Zealand Verse/Night Island
CXLVII.
Night Island.
Rocking upon the spectral sea
A shallop swims awaiting me,
Boat of the Fay;
Frail is the crescent, hollowed thin;
Rapt in a dream I sit therein
And speed away.
A shallop swims awaiting me,
Boat of the Fay;
Frail is the crescent, hollowed thin;
Rapt in a dream I sit therein
And speed away.
Silent the midnight; light the fleece
Adrift across the moon of peace;
The air is suave;
In quivering, glancing, broken bars,
The trembling silver of the stars
Floats on the wave.
Adrift across the moon of peace;
The air is suave;
In quivering, glancing, broken bars,
The trembling silver of the stars
Floats on the wave.
No foam is cleft beneath the prow,
No tinkling ripple taps the bow,
No whitening wake
The magic keel of ivory shows,
That swerves not left or right but knows
The way to take.
No tinkling ripple taps the bow,
No whitening wake
The magic keel of ivory shows,
That swerves not left or right but knows
The way to take.
Fast, o’er the foamless, silent sea
The wistful boat skims eagerly
Till pale shores rise,
A coast where rings no pilot’s hail.
And there, in deeps no seamen sail,
Night Island lies.
The wistful boat skims eagerly
Till pale shores rise,
A coast where rings no pilot’s hail.
And there, in deeps no seamen sail,
Night Island lies.
At first, one cloudy dome, but soon
Flecked like the circle of the moon
With shadowy shapes,
White slender cones, volcanoes steep,
Piercing dark clouds whose masses sleep
O’er tree-clad capes.
Flecked like the circle of the moon
With shadowy shapes,
White slender cones, volcanoes steep,
Piercing dark clouds whose masses sleep
O’er tree-clad capes.
Forth wafted over the dim flood
The odours of the enchanted wood
Fresh earth-scents bear;
Flowers of starlight, wizard dews,
Scents of the mould and leaf, confuse
The clean, salt air.
The odours of the enchanted wood
Fresh earth-scents bear;
Flowers of starlight, wizard dews,
Scents of the mould and leaf, confuse
The clean, salt air.
Is that the echo of the surge
Caught in yon winding, deepening gorge?
Is that the voice
Of yonder foam-pale waterfall,
Of whose blown spray the tree-ferns tall
Drink and rejoice?
Caught in yon winding, deepening gorge?
Is that the voice
Of yonder foam-pale waterfall,
Of whose blown spray the tree-ferns tall
Drink and rejoice?
It is no stream’s, no surge’s wail,
No night-voice of a mountain vale.
Lo,—swells the chant!
A human strain is in my ears
Of manhood’s passion, woman’s tears,
And dreams that haunt,
No night-voice of a mountain vale.
Lo,—swells the chant!
A human strain is in my ears
Of manhood’s passion, woman’s tears,
And dreams that haunt,
Dreams of the lost ideal, ruth
For boyhood’s faith and gallant truth
And youth's brave will;
Then keenest joy, dear hopes and kind
That thrill the heart, glad tears that blind
Tired eyes,—and still,
For boyhood’s faith and gallant truth
And youth's brave will;
Then keenest joy, dear hopes and kind
That thrill the heart, glad tears that blind
Tired eyes,—and still,
Stayed by a spell the magic boat
A bow-shot from the shore must float
Nor touch the strand,
Though it can feel the ground-swell’s might
Lift and collect itself to smite
The shelving sand.
A bow-shot from the shore must float
Nor touch the strand,
Though it can feel the ground-swell’s might
Lift and collect itself to smite
The shelving sand.
Bound, as a dreamer bound in sleep,
Held back, held fast upon the deep,
The skiff must stay.
Lost as a dream at morning’s star
The fairy isle, borne swift and far,
Fades, fades away.
Held back, held fast upon the deep,
The skiff must stay.
Lost as a dream at morning’s star
The fairy isle, borne swift and far,
Fades, fades away.
For never living man may reach
Or leap upon Night Island’s beach
Howe’er he long,
Though many a night in voyage vain
He cross the visionary main
To hear that song.
Or leap upon Night Island’s beach
Howe’er he long,
Though many a night in voyage vain
He cross the visionary main
To hear that song.