Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
O'Brazil, the Isle of the Blest (Author: Gerald Griffin)
A spectre island, said to be sometimes visible on the verge of the Western horizon, in the Atlantic, from the Isles of Arran.
- On the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell,
A shadowy land has appeared, as they tell;
Men thought it a region of sunshine and rest,
And they called it O'Brazil, the Isle of the blest.
From year unto year, on the ocean's blue rim,
The beautiful spectre showed lovely and dim;
The golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay,
And it looked like an Eden, away, far away!
- A peasant who heard of the wonderful tale,
In the breeze of the Orient loosened his sail
From Ara, the holy, he turned to the west,
For though Ara was holy, O'Brazil was blest.
He heard not the voices that called from the shore
He heard not the rising wind's menacing roar;
Home, kindred, and safety, he left on that day,
And he sped to O'Brazil, away, far away!
- Morn rose on the deep, and that shadowy Isle,
O'er the faint rim of distance, reflected its smile,
Noon burned on the wave, and that shadowy shore
Seemed lovelily distant, and faint as before:
Lone evening came down on the wanderer's track,
And to Ara again he looked timidly back;
Oh! far on the verge of the ocean it lay,
Yet the isle of the blest was away, far away!
- Rash dreamer, return! O ye winds of the main,
Bear him back to his own peaceful Ara again;
Rash fool! for a vision of fanciful bliss,
To barter thy calm life of labour and peace.
The warning of reason was spoken in vain,
He never revisited Ara again;
Night fell on the deep, amidst tempest and spray,
And he died on the waters, away, far away!
- To you, gentle friends, need I pause to reveal,
The lessons of prudence my verses conceal;
How the phantom of pleasure seen distant in youth,
Oft lures a weak heart from the circle of truth.
All lovely it seems like that shadowy Isle,
And the eye of the wisest it caught by its smile;
But, ah! for the heart, it has tempted to stray,
From the sweet home of duty, away, far away!
- Poor friendless adventurer! vainly might he
Look back to green Ara, along the wild sea;
But the wandering heart has a guardian above,
Who, though erring, remember the child of his love.
- Oh, who at the proffer of safety would spurn
When all that he asks, is the will to return;
To follow a phantom, from day unto day,
And die in the tempest, away, far away!