George Darley

Lenimina Laborum. 45. When nestling winds the ocean soothe

From the "Sea-Bride." (MS.)

When nestling winds the ocean soothe,
Till calm as Heaven's blue waste it be,
How sweet to glide from smooth to smooth,
Like halcyons of the under sea!

How brave to tread the glistening sands
That lie in amber wreaths below:
The twisted toil of faery hands
Condemned to swing them to and fro!

My bright harp with its golden tongue,
Speaks sweetly thro' the lucid wave,
And says its chords need scarce be rung.
While floods so soft its bosom lave.

Broad-handed Neptune aye will beat
In milder mood this harp of mine;
So think not, if the song be sweet,
Think not the melody is mine!