The Island lies nine leagues away; Along its solitary shore Of craggy rock and sandy bay, No sound but ocean's roar, Save where the bold wild sea-bird makes her home, Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.
But when the light winds lie at rest, And on the glassy, heaving sea, The black duck with her glossy breast Sits swinging silently, How beautiful! no ripples break the reach, And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.
And inland rests the green, warm dell; The brook comes tinkling down its side; From out the trees the Sabbath bell Rings cheerful, far and wide, Mingling its sound with bleatings of the flocks That feed about the vale among the rocks.
Nor holy bell nor pastoral bleat In former days within the vale; Flapped in the bay the pirate's sheet; Curses were on the gale; Rich goods lay on the sand, and murdered men: Pirate and wrecker kept their revels then.
But calm, low voices, words of grace, Now slowly fall upon the ear; A quiet look is in each face, Subdued and holy fear. Each motion gentle; all is kindly done-- Come, listen how from crime this Isle was won.
Who's sitting on that long black ledge Which makes so far out in the sea, Feeling the kelp-weed on its edge? Poor idle Matthew Lee! So weak and pale? A year and little more. And bravely did he lord it round this shore!
And on the shingles now he sits, And rolls the pebbles 'neath his hands; Now walks the beach; then stops by fits, And scores the smooth wet sands; Then tries each cliff and cove and jut that bounds The isles; then home from many weary rounds.
They ask him why he wanders so, From day to day, the uneven strand? "I wish, I wish that I might go! But I would go by land; And there's no way that I can find--I've tried All day and night!"--He seaward looked, and sighed.
It brought the tear to many an eye That once his eye had made to quail. "Lee, go with us; our sloop is nigh; Come! help us hoist her sail." He shook.--"You know the Spirit Horse I ride! He'll let me on the sea with none beside!"
He views the ships that come and go, Looking so like to living things. O! 'tis a proud and gallant show Of bright and broad-spread wings, Making it light around them, as they keep Their course right onward through the unsounded deep.