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He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck, –
Amazement confronts him with images dire;Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a-wreck
The masts fly in splinters—the shrouds are on fire !
Like mountains, the billows tremendously swell —
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save ;Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,
And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!
Oh! sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frosi-work of blissWhere now is the picture that fancy touched bright,
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honied kiss?
Oh, sailor boy! sailor boy! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed, and unhonoured, down deep in the main
Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.
No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem thy lost form from the merciless surgeBut the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge!
On a bed of sea-flowers thy pale limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And each tribe of the deep haunt thy mansion below.
Days, months, years, and ages
shall circle And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Frail short-sighted mortals their doom must obey
Oh! sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul!
FIRST- LOVE'S RECOLLECTIONS.
BY JOHN CLARE.
Oh, long be my heart with such memories filled !
First love will with the heart remain
When its hopes are all gone by;
Their fragrance when they die.
With the shades from which they sprung;
On which spring's blossoms hung.
Mary! I dare not call thee dear,
I've lost that right so long ;
With memory's idle song:
The love of former days,
Of pleasing with my praise.
When honied tokens from each tongue
Told with what truth we loved, How rapturous to thy lips I clung,
Whilst nought but smiles reproved !
Were whispered in thine ear,
And blush with wilder fear!
How loth to part, how fond to meet,
Had we two used to be!
At sunset with what
feet I hastened on to thee! Scarce nine days passed us ere we met
In spring, nay, wintry weather; Now nine years' suns have risen and set,
Nor found us once together!
Thy face was so familiar grown,
Thyself so often nigh,
Would bring thee to mine eye:
That 'witching look to trace; Though there thy beauty lingers yet,
It wears a stranger's face!
I felt a pride to name thy name,
But now that pride hath flown;
That thus I love thee on!
Nor urged a binding vow;
One word of kindness now.
Oh! what is now my name to thee,
Though once nought seemed so dear? Perhaps a jest in hours of glee,
To please some idle ear.
Impressions linger on,
That passed for truth is gone!
Ere the world smiled upon my lays,
A sweeter meed was mine;
Was raised at every line.
But now methinks thy fervent love
Is changed to scorn severe;
Seem discord to thine ear.
When last thy gentle cheek I prest,
And heard thee feign adieu,
Would prove a word so true!
Even loftier hopes than ours;
That ne'er can grow to flowers !
This is the loveliest scene in all the land ;
Around me far a green enchantment lies,
Fed by the weeping of these April skies, And touched by Fancy's fine, "all-charming wand.” Almost I expect to see a lightsome band
Come stealing through the hazel boughs, that cross
My path, or half asleep on bank of moss, Some Satyr, with stretched arm and clenched hand.
It is a place all beauty. There, half hid By yellowing ash and drooping aspens, run The river waters swift to meet the sun;
And in the distance, in its boiling might, The fatal fall is seen, the thundering STRID;
And over all, the morning blue and bright!
TO THE MEMORY OF HOWARD,
BY J. H. WIFFEN, ESQ.
Why, when the souls we loved are fled,
Plant we their turf with flowers,
In sunshine and in showers?
In winter's blighting hours,
It is that we would thence create
Bright memory of the past;
Eternally to last.
The sweetnesses they cast;
Such, and so fair, in day's decline
The hues which Nature gives;
Her fair creation lives :
Dim radiance still survives;
Else, why when rified stands the tower,
The column overthrown,
Crumbles the storying stone;