Page images

When on her wide and trackless path
Of desolation, doom'd to flee,
Say, sank she 'mid the blending wrath
Of racking cloud and rolling sea?
Or, where the land but mocks the eye
Went drifting on a fatal shore?

Vain guesses all!-Her destiny

Is dark-she ne'er was heard of more!

The moon hath twelve times changed her form,
From glowing orb to crescent wan;
'Mid skies of calm, and scowl of storm,
Since from her port that ship hath gone;
But ocean keeps its secret well;

And though we know that all is o'er,
No eye hath seen-no tongue can tell

Her fate:-she ne'er was heard of more!



I REMEMBER, I remember

The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in, at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily cups-
Those flowers made of light;
The lilacs, where the robins built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum, on his birth-day,-
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air would rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;

-My spirit flew in feathers, then,
That is so heavy now,

And the summer pool could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember

The fir trees, dark and high;

I used to think their slender spires
Were close against the sky!

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 't is little joy

To know I'm further off from heaven,

Than when I was a boy!



How like a younker, or a prodigal,
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return;
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
Merchant of Venice.

AN anxious, lingering, perilous voyage past,
An India ship hail'd Albion's land at last!
Moor'd in the Downs, her mighty pinions close
Like some far flying bird that seeks repose;
While, crowding on the deck, a hundred eyes
Turn'd shoreward-flush'd with pleasure and surprise.
That eve they anchor'd, from the horizon's hem
The virgin Moon, as if to welcome them,

Rose from her rest-but would no more reveal
Than the faint outline of her pale profile:

Though soon (as maids forego their fears) she gave
Her orbed brow to kiss the wanton wave:
Till-like a scornful lover, swoll'n with pride,
Because too fondly loved to be denied,

The rude wave spurn'd her off, and raised that loud And angry blast that scream'd through sail and shroud,

The livelong night on which my heart is dwelling.
Meanwhile, the swarthy crew, each care dispelling,
Had sported thrice three summer suns away
Since they had cast their anchor in that bay.
O, none save Fortune's step-sons, doom'd to roam
The deep, can prize a harbour and a home!
The temperate breeze their sun-bronzed temples

A native shore the gladden'd eye refreshing-
The painted pinnace dancing from the land
Freighted with friends-the pressure of the hand
Whose pulse throbs happy seconds-the warm gush
Of blood into the cheek, as it would rush

With the heart's welcome ere the tongue could half
Perform its office-feeling's telegraph!

Impassion'd smiles, and tears of rapture starting-
Oh, how unlike the tears which fell at parting!
And all were theirs-that good ship's gallant crew-
As though each joy which absence render'd due
Were paid in one bright moment: such are known
To those long sever'd, loving, loved, alone!

A gorgeous freight that broad-sail'd vessel bore-
The blazing diamonds and the blushing ore;
Spices that sigh'd their incense, till the sails
Were fann'd along on aromatic gales
From Orient lands. Then marvel not if he
Who there is Chief should look exultingly
Back on the storms he baffled, and should know
The boson's warmest wildest overflow

While gazing on the land which laugh'd before him!

The smooth sea round-the blue pavilion o'er him!
Yet felt he more than ever sprang from these,
For love demanded deeper sympathies;

And long in lonely bower had sigh'd for him
A fond fair Bride, whose infant Cherubim
Oft spirit-clouded from its playthings crept,
Το weep beside its mother while she wept.
But O, they met at length! And such sweet days
Already proved as leave a light that plays
Upon the memory when their warmth is gone,
The fount thus treasures sunbeams, and shines on
Through dusk and darkness. Like some happy

Joy mark'd the hours pursuing one another

A wreath of buoyant angels! Yet as they

Wheel'd laughing round, oft sigh'd, to make them stay!

This was a day of banqueting on board;

And swan-wing'd barks, and barges many-oar'd,
Came crowded to the feast. The young-the gay-
The beautiful-were there. Right merrily

The pleasure-boats glide onward;-with swift prow
The clear wave curling, till around each bow,"
With frequent flash, the bright and feathery spray
Threw mimic rainbows at the sun in play.
The ship is won, the silken chair is lower'd-
Exulting Youth and Beauty bound on board;

And, while they wondering gaze on sail and shroud, -
The flag flaps o'er them like a crimson cloud.

Young Pleasure kiss'd each heart! From Persia's loom

An ample awning spread its purple bloom

To canopy the guests; and vases, wreath'd

With deep-hued flowers and foliage, sweetly breathed Their incense, fresh as zephyrs when they rove Among the blossoms of a citron grove;

Soft sounds-(invisible spirits on the wing)-
Were heard and felt around them hovering;-
In short, some magic seem'd to sway the hour,
The wand-struck deck becomes an orient bower!
A very wilderness of blushing roses,

Just such as Love would choose when he reposes.
The pendent orange from a lush of leaves,
Hangs like Hesperian gold; and, tied in sheaves,
Carnations prop their triple coronals;

The grape, out-peeping from thick foliage, falls
Like cluster'd amethysts in deep festoons;

And shells are scatter'd round which Indian moons
Had sheeted with the silver of their beams;
But O, what, more than all, the scene beseems,
Fair, faultless forms, glide there with wing-like

Bright as young Peris rising from the ocean!

Eve darken'd down-and yet they were not gone; The sky had changed,-the sudden storm came on! ONE waved on high a ruby sparkling bowl(Youth, passion, wine, ran riot in his soul)"Fill to the brim," he cried, "let others


Their doubtful path to heaven;-my heaven is here!
This hour is mine, and who can dash its bliss?
Fate dare not darken such an hour as this!"

Then stopp'd to quaff;-but (as a charm were thrown)

His hand, his lips, grew motionless as stone;
His drunkenness of heart no more deceives
The thunder growls, the surge-smote vessel heaves;
And while aghast he stared, a hurrying squall
Rent the wide awning, and discover'd all!
Across their eyes the hissing lightning blazed-
The black wave burst beside them as they gazed;
And dizzily the thick surf scatter'd o'er them;
And dim and distant loom'd the land before them;
No longer firm-th' eternal hills did leave

Their solid rest, and heaved, or seein u to heave.

« PreviousContinue »