At Tynemouth Priory

AFTER A TEMPESTUOUS VOYAGE. 

As slow I climb the cliffs ascending side, 
Much musing on the track of terror past, 
When o'er the dark wave rode the howling blast, 
Pleased I look back, and view the tranquil tide 
That laves the pebbled shore: and now the beam 
Of evening smiles on the grey battlement, 
And yon forsaken tower that time has rent: — 
The lifted oar far off with transient gleam 
Is touched, and hushed is all the billowy deep! 
Soothed by the scene, thus on tired Nature's breast 
A stillness slowly steals, and kindred rest; 
While sea-sounds lull her, as she sinks to sleep, 
Like melodies that mourn upon the lyre, 
Waked by the breeze, and, as they mourn, expire!