Ocean: An Ode. Concluding with A wish.*

  Sweet rural scene!
  Of flocks and green!
At careless ease my limbs are spread;
  All nature still
  But yonder rill;
And listening pines not o'er my head:
  In prospect wide,
  The boundless tide!
Waves cease to foam, and winds to roar;
  Without a breeze,
  The curling seas
Dance on, in measure, to the shore.
  Who sings the source
  Of wealth and force?
Vast field of commerce and big war:
  Where wonders dwell!
  Where terrors swell!
And Neptune thunders from his car?
  Where? where are they,
  Whom Pean's ray
Has touch'd, and bid divinely rave?
  What, none aspire?
  I snatch the lyre,
And plunge into the foaming wave.
  The wave resounds!
  The rock rebounds!
The Nereids to my song reply!
  I lead the choir,
  And they conspire
With voice and shell to lift it high;
  They spread in air
  Their bosoms fair;
Their verdant tresses pour behind.
  The billows beat
  With nimble feet,
With notes triumphant swell the wind.
  Who love the shore,
  And they conspire
With voice and shell to lift it high;
  Let those adore
 The God Apollo, and his Nine,
  Parnassus' hill,
  And Orpheus' skill;
But let Arion's harp be mine.
  The main! the main!
  Is Britain's reign;
Her strength, her glory, is her fleet;
  The main! the main!
  Be Briton's strain;
As Triton's strong, as Syren's sweet.
  Through nature wide,
  Is nought descry'd
So rich in pleasure, or surprize;
  When all-serene
  How sweet the scene!
How dreadful, when the billows rise.
  And storms deface
  The fluid glass
In which ere-while Britannia fair
  Look'd down with pride,
  Like Ocean's bride,
Adjusting her majestic air.
  When tempests cease,
  And hush'd in peace
The flatten'd surges smoothly spread
  Deep silence keep,
  And seem to sleep
Recumbent on their oozy bed;
  With what a trance
  The level glance,
 Unbroken, shoots along the seas!
  Whichtempt from shore
  the painted oar;
And every canvas courts the breeze!
  When rushes forth
  The frowning North
On blackening billows, with what dread
  My shuddering soul
  Beholds them roll,
And hears their roarings o'er my head!
  With terror mark
  Yon flying bark!
Now, center-deep descend the brave;
  Now, toss'd on high
  It takes the sky,
A feather on the towering wave!
  Now, spins around
  In whirls profound;
Now, whelm'd; now, pendant near the clouds;
  Now, stunn'd, it reels
  Midst thunder's peals;
And, now, fierce lightening fires the shrouds.
  All aether burns!
  Chaos returns!
And blends once more the seas and skies;
  No space between
  Thy bosom green,
O Deep! and the blue concave, lies.
  The northern blast,
  The shatter'd mast,
 The fyrt, the whirlpool, and the rock,
  The breaking spout,
  the stars gone out,
The boiling sreight, the monsters shock.
  Let others fear;
  To Britain dear
What'er promotes her daring claim;
  Those terrors charm,
  Which keep her warm
In chace of honest gain or fame.
  The stars are bright
  To chear the night,
And shed, through shadows, temper'd fire;
  And Phoebus flames
  With burnish'd beams,
Which some adore, and all admire.
  Are then the seas
  Outshone by these?
Bright Thetys! thou art not outshone;
  With kin
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Edward Young

Edward Young, LVO is the current Deputy Private Secretary to Queen Elizabeth II. more…

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"Ocean: An Ode. Concluding with A wish.*" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 31 Mar. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/9917/ocean:-an-ode.-concluding-with-a-wish.*>.

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