The Noontide Calm, III

Shades of vessels that have passed Rope and sail and yellow mast— On the seafolks' town are cast; And the Merking, startled by Shadows in his crystal sky, Calls the guard at palace gate, Where he reigns in ancient state, Sitting on a coral throne, With sea-mosses overgrown— Calls his guard to send a slave Skyward, soaring thro' the wave, To command the mariner To move on. The messenger, A dolphin bold, With back of gold, Swiftly cleaving, swirling, leaving A flashing trail, As from each scale And finny tip A silver spray of bubbles slip. Higher, higher rises he, Till from the surface of the sea He leaps, and gloriously Rolls his flashing coat of mail In the splendor of the day. Then the sailors trim the sail, Knowing that the sprightly gale Cometh when the dolphins play. Haste away! Haste away! For the breeze Frets the seas, And the rim of opal hue Burns a green and flames a blue.