THE WHITE SEAHORSES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2356, 20 April 1899, Page 58

THE WHITE SEAHORSES.

The ocean, in the flush of dawn, A liquid shield of amber lay, Its dark-green rolling waves had gone To sleep, the breeze had died away; But while the coursers of the sun Drove mid-way up the Eastern sky The demon wintry storm-rack dun Shook out its sable flag on high. The stormy petrel o'er the tide A dark foreboding— winged its flight; Tho sailor on the waters wide

Reefed sail and made all snug and tight. BeneatE the dark'ning heaven, black grew The rousing bosom of the sea, Till it was draped a sable hue, And moaned as if in agony, Prophetic of tempestuous strife Its slumbering might was soon to wage, When, like a white-plumed thing of life, It should tho very clouds engage. Fierce bursting from its prison cell, The Austral wind, with sudden sweep, Rushed in a steady, deepening swell Across the trouble-brooding deep, In heaving mounds of livid green, To monster life that sudden sprung, And soft foam lace of silver sheen

O'er its pulsating bosom flung. Wild circling through the wintry air, The sea birds shrieked their piercing cries, As though it gave them joy to dare The fury of the sea and skies. With clarion voice the piercing blast The white steeds startled from their sleep, And with a loose rein drove them fast

Across 'the bosom of the deep. From out the briny swirl, lo! Like spectre hosts they rose to view, Until a winding sheet of snow Seemed spread o'er all the waste of blue. With curving back, and tossing main Of feathery spume, they coursed away, Curveting o'er the liquid plain In countless ranks of white array. Their foam-flecked sides the rushing squalls Did wild and still more wildly lash, While trumpeting n, thousand calls, And goading with the lightning flash; Till, fierce as they were unconfined, Their froth-wreaths whitening o'er the sea, They dashed behind the rushing wind Like charging hosts of cavalry. A bark at morn that, like a dove, Lay peaceful nestled on the sea, Deep azure depths beneath, above, And everywhere tranquillity, With white sails motionless, that hung Like alabaster sheets unto The yards they met: a leak she sprung, And sank ere night with all her crew. Then champing, fuming, gasping deep, And with exulting wails of glee, A pack of ravening wolves did sweep Quick o'er the frighted, tortured sea. Away, away, where lay the shore, Stern, bleak, and iron-bound, at bay. They headed with a hollow roar At headlong gallop to the fray. Rank after rank in countless hosts, The welkin echoing their din, With sea, smoke plumed, like warrior ghosts, lhe wild white steeds came foaming in. Came bursting big with savage wrath, Away bank, reef, and shoal to sweep, But, lo! mid leprous clouds of froth They rolled back, baffled, to the deep. With teeth that gleamed as white as snow, And yawning jaws with foam-flakes hung, And hissing fury, fierce and low, Upon tho bar they trampling sprung, And charged the rocks, the sounding shore, When shrieked like maniac the blast, For, shattered, and with hollow roar, Behold! they back recoiled aghast. Wild wreaths of tangle, kelp, and wrack That from the rocks they'd wrenched away Was all they boro as trophies back On their fierce bosoms from the fray. Again, and yet again, the gale Led on to still more fierce attack, And still tho billowy coursers, palo And panting, tumbled, shattered, back. Like things possessed, they tossed and leapt, High-arched their crested necks in air As on and on again they swept, To roll back, sullen with de&pair. When night from out its chamber stole, And o'er the scene its mantle threw, The billows dashed with ceaseless roll, And still .dSolus fiercely blew. With measured, deep, rhythmic boom, Like countless muffled drums in glee, The storm fiend deep into the gloom Of night kept up his revelry. When dawn onco more lit up the sky The wind had soothed itself lo Hl^ep, The tired waves heaved convulsively, And weary sobbed the mournful deep. And in contrition for its crime The corses of its victims bor.». With plaintive-sounding funeral chime, Upon its bosom to the shore, And stretched out on the shining strand Each cold form, soddened with its wave, And wreaths of wrack and mounds of sand Heaped gently round them for a grave. j —HENRY T. FLETCHER. Kati Kati, April 1899.

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