(FROM TYLNEY HALL.)

Still glides the gentle streamlet on,
  With shifting current new and strange;
The water that was here is gone,
  But those green shadows do not change.

Serene, or ruffled by the storm,
  On present waves as on the past,
The mirrored grave retains its form,
  The self-same trees their semblance cast.

The hue each fleeting globule wears,
  That drop bequeaths it to the next,
One picture still the surface bears,
  To illustrate the murmured text.

So, love, however time may flow,
  Fresh hours pursuing those that flee
One constant image still shall show
  My tide of life is true to thee!

SONNET TO OCEAN.[13]

[Footnote 13:  Written in 1835 after Hood’s disastrous voyage to Rotterdam, in which the ship was nearly lost, and Hood’s health was permanently affected.]

Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love,
That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife,
Thou darest menace my unit of a life,
Sending my clay below, my soul above,
Whilst roar’d thy waves, like lions when they rove
By night, and bound upon their prey by stealth! 
Yet didst thou n’er restore my fainting health?—­
Didst thou ne’er murmur gently like the dove? 
Nay, dost thou not against my own dear shore
Full break, last link between my land and me?—­
My absent friends talk in thy very roar,
In thy waves’ beat their kindly pulse I see,
And, if I must not see my England more,
Next to her soil, my grave be found in thee!

TO ——­

COMPOSED AT ROTTERDAM.

I.

I gaze upon a city,—­
A city new and strange,—­
Down many a watery vista
My fancy takes a range;
From side to side I saunter,
And wonder where I am;
And can you be in England,
And I at Rotterdam!

II.

Before me lie dark waters
In broad canals and deep,
Whereon the silver moonbeams
Sleep, restless in their sleep;
A sort of vulgar Venice
Reminds me where I am;
Yes, yes, you are in England,
And I’m at Rotterdam.

III.

Tall houses with quaint gables,
Where frequent windows shine,
And quays that lead to bridges,
And trees in formal line,
And masts of spicy vessels
From western Surinam,
All tell me you’re in England,
But I’m in Rotterdam.

IV.

Those sailors, how outlandish
The face and form of each! 
They deal in foreign gestures,
And use a foreign speech;
A tongue not learn’d near Isis,
Or studied by the Cam,
Declares that you’re in England,
And I’m at Rotterdam.