We have added a Tranflation of the preceding Poem for the Benefit of our English Readers. It is done by Mr. W. Dunkin, M. A. for whom our Suppofed Author bath expreffed a great Regard, on Account of his ingenious Performances, although unacquainted with him.

Carbery Rocks in the County of Cork, Ireland.

L

O! from the Top of yonder Cliff, that shrouds Its airy Head amidst the azure Clouds, Hangs a huge Fragment; deftitute of props Prone on the Waves the rocky Ruin drops With hoarfe Rebuff the fwelling Seas rebound, From Shore to Shore the Rocks return the Sound The dreadful Murmur Heav'n's high Convex cleaves; And Neptune fhrinks beneath his Subject Waves; For, long the whirling Winds and beating Tides Had fcoop'd a Vault into its nether Sides.

Now yields the Base, the Summits nod, now urge Their headlong Course, and lash the founding Surge: Not louder Noife could shake the guilty World, When Jove heap'dMountains upon Mountains hurl'd Retorting Pelion from his dread abode,

To crush Earth's rebel Sons beneath the Load.

Off too with hideous yawn the Cavern wide Prefents an Orifice on either Side,

A difmal Orifice from Sea to Sea

Extended, pervious to the God of Day:
Uncouthly joyn'd, the Rocks ftupendous form
An Arch, the Ruin of a future Storm:
High on the Cliff their Nefts the Woodquests make,
And Sea calves ftable in the oozy Lake.

BUT when bleak Winter with her fullen Train
Awakes the Winds, to vex the watry Plain;
When o'er the craggy Sreep without Controul,
Big with the Blast, the raging Billows rowl;
Not Towns beleaguer'd, not the flaming Brand
Darted from Heav'n by Jove's avenging Hand,
Oft as on impious Men his Wrath he pours,
Humbles their Pride, and blafts their gilded Tow'rs,
Equal the Tumult of this wild Uproar :
Waves rush o'er Waves, rebellows Shore to Shore.
The neighb'ring Race, tho' wont to brave the Shocks,
Of angry Seas, and run along the Rocks,
Now pale with Terror, while the Ocean foams,
Fly far and wide, nor truft their native Homes.

THE Goats,while pendent from the Mountain-top The wither'd Herb improvident they crop, Wash'd down the Precipice with fudden Sweep, Leave their sweet Lives beneath th'unfathom'd Deep.

THE frighted Fisher with defponding Eyes, Tho' fafe, yet trembling in the Harbour lies, Nor hoping to behold the Skies ferene, Wearies with Vows the Monarch of the Main,

The End of the Second Volume.