THE STEERSMAN'S SONG.

WRITTEN ABOARD THE BOSTON FRIGATE, 28TH April.

WHEN freshly blows the northern gale,

And under courses snug we fly;
When lighter breezes swell the sail,

And royals proudly sweep the sky;
'Longside the wheel, unwearied still
I stand, and as my watchful eye
Doth mark the needle's faithful thrill,
I think of her I love, and cry,

Port, my boy! port.

When calms delay, or breezes blow
Right from the point we wish to steer;
When by the wind close-haul'd we go,
And strive in vain the port to near;
I think 'tis thus the Fates defer

My bliss with one that's far away,

*

* I left Bermuda in the Boston, about the middle of April, in company with the Cambrian and Leander, aboard the latter of which was the Admiral, Sir Andrew Mitchell, who divides his year between Halifax and Bermuda, and is the very soul of society and good-fellowship to both. We separated in a few days, and the Boston after a short cruise proceeded to New York.

And while remembrance springs to her,
I watch the sails, and sighing say,

Thus, my boy! thus.

But see the wind draws kindly aft,
All hands are up the yards to square,
And now the floating stu'n-sails waft

Our stately ship through waves and air.
Oh! then I think that yet for me

Some breeze of Fortune thus may spring, Some breeze to waft me, love, to thee!

And in that hope I smiling sing,

Steady, boy! so.

TO CLOE.

IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.

I COULD resign that

eye of blue,

Howe'er it burn, howe'er it thrill me;
And, though your lip be rich with dew,
To lose it, CLOE, scarce would kill me.

That snowy neck I ne'er should miss,
However warm I've twined about it!

And though your bosom beat with bliss,

I think my soul could live without it.

In short, I've learn'd so well to fast,
That, sooth my love, I know not whether
I might not bring myself at last,
To-do without you altogether!

TO THE FIRE-FLY.*

THIS morning, when the earth and sky
Were burning with the blush of spring,
I saw thee not, thou humble fly!

Nor thought upon thy gleaming wing.

But now the skies have lost their hue,
And sunny lights no longer play,
I see thee, and I bless thee too

For sparkling o'er the dreary way.

* The lively and varying illumination, with which these fire-flies light up the woods at night, gives quite an idea of enchantment. "Puis ces mouches se développant de l'obscurité de ces arbres et s'approchant de nous, nous les voyions sur les orangers voisins, qu'ils mettaient tout en feu, nous rendant la vue de leurs beaux fruits dorés que la nuit avait ravie," etc. etc.-See l'Histoire des Antilles, art. 2. chap. 4. .

liv. 1.

Oh let me hope that thus for me,

When life and love shall lose their bloom,

Some milder joys may come, like thee,

To light, if not to warm, the gloom!

THE VASE.

THERE was a vase of odour lay

For many an hour on Beauty's shrine,
So sweet that Love went every day
To banquet on its breath divine.

And not an eye had ever seen

The fragrant charm the vase conceal'd; Oh Love! how happy 'twould have been, If thou hadst ne'er that charm reveal'd!

But Love, like every other boy,

Would know the spell that lurks within ; He wish'd to break the crystal toy, But Beauty murmur'd " 'twas a sin!"

He swore,

with many a tender plea,

That neither Heaven nor earth forbad it; She told him, Virtue kept the key,

And look'd as if she wish'd he had it!

He stole the key when Virtue slept
(Even she can sleep, if Love but ask it),
And Beauty sigh'd, and Beauty wept,
While silly Love unlock'd the casket.

Oh dulcet air that vanish'd then!
Can Beauty's sigh recal thee ever?
Can Love himself inhale again

A breath so precious?-never, never!

Go, maiden, weep-the tears of woe
By Beauty to repentance given,
Though bitterly on earth they flow,
Shall turn to fragrant balm in Heaven!

THE WREATH AND THE CHAIN.

I BRING thee, love, a golden chain,
I bring thee too a flowery wreath;

The gold shall never wear a stain,

The flow'rets long shall sweetly breathe! Come, tell me which the tie shall be

To bind thy gentle heart to me.