24

While Harold's former health return'd apace,

A ship was chosen fit to flee or chase;
For fleetness famed, her equal was unknown,
For that one quality she stood alone.

When all equipp'd, the seamen's skill was tried,
And Harold view'd them with a glow of pride;
His naval fire reviving at the sight,

With tingling blood he panted for the fight;
And, hope elated, in his fancy bore

The maid already back to Britain's shore.

25

While thus with hope he felt his bosom swell, To those he left he bade a brief farewell;Spread all his canvas to the favouring wind, And quickly left his native shore behind; Direct to climates equinoxial bound,

To cruise for Bertrand on his cruising ground.
For his success, upon the summer air

The parents wafted many a fervent pray'r;
But now to Bertrand we'll return again,

And leave his foe to follow o'er the main.

THE PRIVATEER:

A METRICAL ROMANCE.

CANTO THE FIFTH.

1

The wind blows fair and strong; each rounded sail Propells the Privateer before the gale;

For swiftness built, she speeds upon her way

As if impatient of the least delay;

With graceful strength opposing seas divides,

And hurls the hissing foam-flakes from her sides :
Her actions free, save by the helm confined,
She leaves a frothy, eddying wake behind;
Proud as a war-horse bounding o'er the turf,
Her way she forces through the boiling surf;
And swiftly speeding on her trackless course,
Appears to spurn the waves, and scorn their force.

2

Thus with fair winds the vessel made her way
Past Ushant's Isle and Biscay's dreaded Bay;
Then steering south, they entered Cancer's sign,
And swiftly near'd the equinoxial line,

Till from it northward twelve degrees or more,
Then to the westward gradually bore:

From east north-east the steady trade-wind blew,
And gave small trouble to the loitering crew;
White, fleecy clouds were round th' horizon spread,
But the blue sky was cloudless overhead;
The glaring sun, in noon's oppressive hour,
Attain'd the acme of its greatest pow'r ;
And from the zenith vertically shone

In all the glory of its native zone.

3

Six weeks had passed: they seem'd a year
To Ellen, 'midst her grief and fear;-
Grief for her past and present woe,

And fear of what she yet might know :
Alas for her! those weeks had wrought
By constant, agonizing thought,

A woeful change in form and face;
The sprightliness of former days—
Her fairy step-her laughing gaze-

Her

merry mien-her girlish grace,

And all her happy, winning ways,

Had vanish'd leaving scarce a trace

Of where was once their dwelling place. Yes! maidenhood's sweet charms had fled Affrighted thence; and in their stead,

Her sunken cheek- her measured treadAverted face-dejected head,

Sufficed-alas! too well!-to show

Long, deep intensity of woe;

But, join'd to her despairing eye,

Betray'd the soul's great agony.

4

Morn after morn she rose from sleep

То

Το

pray, hope, meditate, and weep ;

pray

to Heaven for relief,

To hope that aid would come at last,

To meditate upon her grief,

And weep in sorrow o'er the past:

Day after day, upon the deck,

With quick'ning pulse and straining eyes

She gazed on ev'ry distant speck

That might above th' horizon rise;
And hoped they were pursued,-in vain!
Each sail soon disappear'd again;
For Bertrand fled from ev'ry one,-

He seem'd a closer view to shun:
And when the weary day was o'er

Eve after eve, with deepen'd woe,
She sought her cabin's friendly door,
To pray, reflect, and weep once more,

Uncheer'd by hope's remotest glow;
Until at last her strength completely gone,
And by afflicting feelings overborne,
Amid the silence of her anguish deep
Her languid frame was visited by sleep.

But not that gentle, undisturb'd repose,
Which round the soul a happy halo throws ;-
Nerves mind and body for the coming day,
And takes from both all weariness away;