Iv

Venice and England cradled! Could this seaman be Other than ocean's child, With heart less restless than that vast and wild Great heart of the thrilling sea? Wakened to her long thunders, Cradled in her soft voice, Could other voice of all earth's voices sweet Make his stern heart rejoice? Yea, this was better than all, greater than all to him, Truer than youth's mad whim, The only love of his youth, the only lore of his age, To gaze on her vast tumultuous scroll, To pore on her wrinkled page:-- For he was very soul of her soul, And she meet mother for him.