Where is that crew and vessel now?

Tell me their state who can ?

The wild waves dash o'er their sinking bow—
Down, down to the fathomless depths they go,
To sleep with a sinful man.

The carbuncle lies in the deep, deep sea,

Beneath the mighty wave;

But the light shines upwards so gloriously,
That the sailor looks pale, and forgets his glee,
When he crosses the wizard's grave.

ON THE DEATH OF

COMMODORE OLIVER H. PERRY.

By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd.

How sad the note of that funereal drum,
That's muffled by indifference to the dead!
And how reluctantly the echoes come,

On air that sighs not o'er that stranger's bed,
Who sleeps with death alone. O'er his young head

His native breezes never more shall sigh ;

On his lone grave the careless step shall tread,

And pestilential vapours soon shall dry

Each shrub that buds around--each flow'r that

blushes nigh.

Let Genius, poising on her full-fledg'd wing,
Fill the charm'd air with thy deserved praise:
Of war, and blood, and carnage let her sing,
Of victory and glory!—let her gaze

On the dark smoke that shrouds the cannon's blaze, On the red foam that crests the bloody billow;

Then mourn the sad close of thy shorten'd daysPlace on thy country's brow the weeping willow, And plant the laurels thick around thy last cold pillow.

No sparks of Grecian fire to me belong:
Alike uncouth the poet and the lay;
Unskill'd to turn the mighty tide of song,
He floats along the current as he may,
The humble tribute of a tear to pay.
Another hand may choose another theme,

May sing of Nelson's last and brightest day,
Of Wolfe's unequall'd and unrivall'd fame,
The wave of Trafalgar-the field of Abraham:

But if the wild winds of thy western lake

Might teach a harp that fain would mourn the brave,
And sweep those strings the minstrel may not wake,
Or give an echo from some secret cave
That opens on romantic Erie's wave,

The feeble cord would not be swept in vain ;
And tho' the sound might never reach thy grave,
Yet there are spirits here, that to the strain
Would send a still small voice responsive back again.

And though the yellow plague infest the air;
Though noxious vapours blight the turf, where rest
The manly form, and the bold heart of war;
Yet should that deadly isle afar be blest!
For the fresh breezes of thy native west
Should seek and sigh around thy early tomb,

Moist with the tears of those who lov'd thee best, Scented with sighs of love-there grief should come, And mem❜ry guard thy grave, and mourn thy hapless doom.

It may not be. Too feeble is the hand,

Too weak and frail the harp, the lay too brief,
To speak the sorrows of a mourning land,
Weeping in silence for her youthful chief.
Yet may an artless tear proclaim more grief

Than mock affection's arts can ever show;

A heartfelt sigh can give a sad relief, Which all the sobs of counterfeited wo, Trick'd off in foreign garb, can never hope to know.

A MARINER'S SONG.

This is part of an unfinished story, the period of which referred to the times when Mr. ADAMS was President.

THOUGH NOW we are sluggish and lazy on shore,
Yet soon shall we be where the wild waters roar ;
Where the wind through the hoarse rattling cordage
shall rave,

And fling the white foam from the top of the wave.

Yes, soon o'er the waters the Essex shall sweep,
And bear all the thunders of war o'er the deep;
While the hands that are hard, and the hearts that

are brave,

Shall give the bold frigate the top of the wave,

And though some one among us may never return, His comrades shall sorrow, his messmates shall

mourn;

Though his body may sink to a watery grave,

His spirit shall rise to the top of the wave.

Then a health to John Adams! and long may he reign O'er the mountain, the valley, the shore, and the

main ;

May he have the same breeze, which to WASHING

TON gave,

In his cruise o'er the waters, the top of the wave.

EPITH ALAMIUM.

I SAW two clouds at morning,
Ting'd with the rising sun;

And in the dawn they floated on,

And mingled into one :

I thought that morning cloud was blest,
It mov'd so sweetly to the west,