DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.11448#0031
chap n.] LIFE AT SEA.
CHAPTER II.
life at sea.
Come ! Let's on, where waters soothe us ;
Where all winds can whistle free ;
Come ! once more we'll mate our spiiit
With the spirit of the sea.
Barry Cohswali.
Et, n'est-ce pas, en effet, une seconde patrie pour un Anglais, que lea
vaisseaux et la mer !
Madame de Stael.
By the bright goddess who sprang from ocean's foam, there is
something glorious in this, her native element! Every heart di-
lates, and every pulse beats high, as, with favoring breezes in
a cloud of sail, we sweep along our " mountain path " over the
Bay of Biscay. Philosophers tell us that we are composed of
these same elements of air and ocean : and surely there is
strong sympathy between us; for every wave we bound over,
every breeze we breathe, is full of life and health, and energy
and hope. There is no such remedy for drooping frame or pin-
ing spirit as the sea—I read it in every voice, and every eye, so
changed within the last few days : color is come back to the
pale cheek, courage to the sinking heart, and health of mind and
body to every voyager on board.
The joyous and light-hearted yet gallant bearing of the sailor
is no accident; it issues naturally from his stirring and eventful
career, from the exhilarating air that he breathes, the freedom
from petty cares that he enjoys, and from the almost unconscious
pride of a chivalrous profession, which there are no town-bred
coxcombs to laugh down. His life is passed in perpetual ac-
tivity upon the ocean—that one great battlefield of England,
CHAPTER II.
life at sea.
Come ! Let's on, where waters soothe us ;
Where all winds can whistle free ;
Come ! once more we'll mate our spiiit
With the spirit of the sea.
Barry Cohswali.
Et, n'est-ce pas, en effet, une seconde patrie pour un Anglais, que lea
vaisseaux et la mer !
Madame de Stael.
By the bright goddess who sprang from ocean's foam, there is
something glorious in this, her native element! Every heart di-
lates, and every pulse beats high, as, with favoring breezes in
a cloud of sail, we sweep along our " mountain path " over the
Bay of Biscay. Philosophers tell us that we are composed of
these same elements of air and ocean : and surely there is
strong sympathy between us; for every wave we bound over,
every breeze we breathe, is full of life and health, and energy
and hope. There is no such remedy for drooping frame or pin-
ing spirit as the sea—I read it in every voice, and every eye, so
changed within the last few days : color is come back to the
pale cheek, courage to the sinking heart, and health of mind and
body to every voyager on board.
The joyous and light-hearted yet gallant bearing of the sailor
is no accident; it issues naturally from his stirring and eventful
career, from the exhilarating air that he breathes, the freedom
from petty cares that he enjoys, and from the almost unconscious
pride of a chivalrous profession, which there are no town-bred
coxcombs to laugh down. His life is passed in perpetual ac-
tivity upon the ocean—that one great battlefield of England,