Montauk Point

It was a summer's day, when old MontaukFirst gleamed upon us. Many a mile we droveOver a treeless region, hill and daleWrapped in a short, green sward.There, grazed at will,Herds of young cattle, by no fence restrained,And limitless in their equality,As a Laconian brotherhood. Quite leanThey were, and agile, and with goat-like nerveCould scour o'er paths precipitous—yet eachBent on our vehicles a curious eye,Pausing and pondering, as if much inclinedOur destination and our names to learn.'T was strange in such wild solitudes to beSo questioned by those quadrupeds. Perchance,Some Yankee pedigree they might have held,In old time far away; for all, methought,Thirsted to ask our birth-place, and degree,Date, history, kindred, gains, and hopes, and fears,And prospects and pursuits.Right scanty fare

Had doubtless kept their minds more clear, and lentA rarer sprinkling of intelligenceThan our sleek herds, who plunge in clover deep,Ever attain. Yet still, 't was passing strangeSuch intellectual intercourse to holdWith horned creatures, and behold them thereAmenable to none. For house, or home,Or farm-yard, where some tinkling bell might callThose roaming vassals to their rightful lord,Though searching close, we saw not.No frail hut,Or slight canoe of the poor red-browed tribes,So numerous once, on their own soil remained.The white man's flocks and herds outnumbered them,And took their lands.Still, as we passed along,On our right hand the glorious Ocean rolled,With its long-terraced, thunder-uttering waves,While on our left, spread out that sheltered seaWhich laves the green shores of my native State,Approaching gently, with its whispered tides,Subdued and docile, as a child at school.The contrast pleased us well, as on we prestTo the sharp verge of that promontoryWhere Sea and Ocean meet. And there, we climbedTo the hill-planted light-house, and beheldThe confluence of waters. Studded o'erThe near expanse, the fishing vessels lay,Each fixed and still, as 'mid a sea of glass;

While on the far horizon, many a sailLoomed up conspicuous, as the western sunInvolved himself in clouds.One house there was,Where the light-keeper and his familyDwelt, sole inhabitants, but yet not sadIn that lone place. Young children brought them love,That other name for happiness, and theyWho dwell in love, do taste on earth, of heaven.Beneath that peaceful, lowly roof, we foundOrder and neatness, and such table spreadAs might the wearied traveller well content;Though all night long, the melancholy mainHeld conflict with the rocks.Returning mornSaw us explorers of the sterile coast,Shell-gatherers and wave-watchers, oft-times lostIn that long trance of meditation sweet,Which on the borders of the solemn deepBest visiteth the soul.And then we turned,Our way retracing, to that southern pointWhere our brief summer-residence we held,Amid such draughts of ocean's bracing air,And soothing habitudes of rural life,So primitive, so simple, so serene,That languid nerve, and wasted, drooping mindAlike revivify.But first, we bade

Farewell to Old Montauk, and gave thee thanks,Ultima Thule of that noble IsleAgainst whose breast the everlasting surgeLong travelling on, and ominous of wrath,Incessant beats. Thou lift'st a blessed torchUnto the vexed and storm-tossed mariner,Guiding him safely on his course again;So teach us mid our own dark ills to guardThe lamp of charity, and with clear eyeLook up to Heaven.

"Even as some hospitable manWill light his going guest into the path,And bid God bless him."

"Here lyeth Elizabeth,Once Samuel Beebee's wife,Who once was made a living soul,But now 's deprived of life;Yet firmly she believed,That at the Lord's returnShe should be made a living soul,In his own shape and form,Lived four and thirty years a wife,Died, aged 57,Hath now laid down this mortal life.In hopes to live in Heaven."