THE WHALE’S LAST MOMENTS. A LAMP-LIGHT MUSING.

I’m king—I’m king of the ‘vasty deep,’

My palace down ’mid the rocks I keep,—

But what see I now o’er the waters sweep?

Indeed—’tis a foe!—a foe!

Ah! fatal shaft!—and a crimson wave!—

But I’ll flee, I’ll flee to my ocean cave;

My palace there—it shall be my grave,

And the deep shall o’er me flow.

Yet, death to the foe!—for again I come

Up, up from the depths of my ocean home—

But, ah!—in a shroud of the white sea-foam

An expiring thing I lie.

And I see, in this darkly flashing light,

Which coldly falls on my misty sight,

Like the elfish glare of a polar night,

The future before my eye.

And ah! no more can I call my own

This ocean kingdom and coral throne;

But tyrant man must be lord alone

Of the earth, and the air, and sea;

And my pure spirit he’ll bear away

To the lamp-lit land of the sleeping day,

There only to own his constant sway,

And his tireless vassal be.

Aye, there, in the bannered hall of state,

A radiant spirit, I’ll nightly wait,

And throw new light on the long debate,

And thwart Ambition’s schemes.

I’ll sit me down by the statesman, too,

Engage in whatever he chance to do,

Read all his documents through and through,

And enlighten his darkest dreams.

I’ll then to the hall of mirth advance,

Pour Love’s own light on the joyous dance,

Give life and point to the speaking glance,

And charms to the blushing fair.

At night I’ll visit the student’s room,

And I’ll scatter the ancient mist of gloom

Which darkly hangs over Learning’s tomb,

And the classical mummies there.

70I’ll help him fathom the depths of Time,

Or up the heights of Parnassus climb,

Or sport in the babbling brooks of rhyme,

Or—for want of sense—make dashes;—

Thus all I’ll serve—but I’ll have my pay—

Revenge—and that in my own good way;—

A dwelling I’ll touch—it shall be my prey—

And a city shall burn to ashes!