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Shall soon he on ihy stream, and never

seem'd Thy flood more fair, and never did the

hreeze Of June, more softly kiss the hroad HA

MOAZE.

Welcome, ye smiling scenes on either hand, In quick succession rising, fair as new. Welcome the hreezy hill, the valley warm, The hay with hamlets edg'd, the sinuons

creek Winding to such a spot as Weston, rocks Beetling o'er fearful depths, the level shore Where Tamar oft within thy green domain Intrudes, and many a promontory hold Darting into the flood. Our hark is wing'd By fleet, auspicious gales, there is no time To dwell upon your charms. Upon the view Ye rise like those enchanting images Which hless the Poet's dream; ye fill the

eye With heauty and then mock our vision.

Swift Ye fly as human pleasures do,—heheld, Lov'd, lost! Broad glitt'ring to the Sun His trihutary course the Lynher leads Between his headlands green. That sweep

of wood With which luxuriant Anthony hedecks The southern hank, seems gracefully to

spring E'en from the shadowy wave, where mimic

groves Display their answ'ring foliage. Breasting

there The swelling tide, that lonely island mark, Seldom hy human foot impress'd. Around The surge is moaning, or the sea-hird

screams: All noiseless else is that deserted spot, Yet pleasing, fixing, interesting still, By mere association with the charms Which dwell so near it. 'Tis a well-plac'd

foil Upon the cheek of heauty! Either shore Presents its comhinations to the view Of all that interests, delights, enchants;— Corn-waving fields, and pastures green, and slope

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Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! a vain adien!

There can he no farewell to scene like thine!

The mind is colour'd hy thy every hue;

And if reluctantly the eyes resign

Their cherish'd gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!

'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise,

More mighty spots may rise—more glaring shine,

But none unite in one attaching maze; The hrilliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days.

The negligently grand, the fruitful hloom, Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen, The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom, The forest's growth, and Gothic walls hetween, The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets heen In mockery of man's art; and these withal A race of faces happy as the scene, Whose fertile hounties here extend to all, Still springing o'er thy hanks, tho' Empires near them fall.

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TO THE OCEAN,

sr BoH.

Roll on, thou deep and dark—hlue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with rain—his control Stops with the shore ;—upon the wat'ry plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with huhhling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.

His steps are not upon thy paths,—thy fields
Are not a spoil for him,—thou dost arise
And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields
For earth's destruction thoa dost alt despise,
Spurning hira from thy hosom to the skies,
And send'st him, shiv'ring on thy playful spray,
And howling to his gods, where haply lies
His petty hope in some near port or hay,
And dashest him again to earth :—there let him lay.

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-huilt cities, hidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremhle in their capitals,
The oak leviathans, whose huge rihs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arhiter of war;
These are thy toys, and as the suowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires, chang'd in all save thee-—
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores ohey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts ;—not so thou,
Unchangeahle save to thy wild waves' play—
Time writes no wrinkle in thine azure hrow—
Such as creation's dawn heheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests: in all time,

Calm or convols'd—in hreeze, or gale, or storm
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving;—houndless, endless, and suhlime,'
The image of eternity—the throne
Of the Invisihle; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
Oheys thee; thou goest forih, dread, fathomless, alone.

And I have lov'd thee, Ocean I and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy hreast to he
Borne, like thy huhhles, onward: from a hoy
I wanton'd with thy hreakers—they to me
Were a delight; and if the fresh'ning sea
Made them a terror—'twas a pleasing fear,
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy hillows far and near,
Ami laid my hand upon thy mane, as I do here.

Great Ocean, too, that morning*, thou the

call Of restitution heard'st, and reverently To the last trumpet's voice, in silence listened. Great Ocean! strongest of creation's sons, Unconquerahle, uureposed, untired. That rolled the wild, profound, eternal hass, In nature's anthem, and made music, such As pleased the ear of God 1 original, Unmarred, unfade.l work of Deity, And nnhurlesqued hy mortal's puny skill, From age to age enduring and unchanged, Majestical, inimitahle, vast, Loud uttering satire, day and night, on each Succeeding race, and little pompous work Of man !—unfallen, religious, holy sea, Thou howedst thy glorious head to none,

feard'st none, Heard'st none, to none did'st honour, hut

to God Thy Maker, only worthy to receive Thy great oheisance! Undiscover'd Sea! Into thy dark, unknown, mysterious caves, And secret haunts, unfathomahly deep Beneath all visihle retired, none went And came again, to tell the wonders there.

* The morning of the last Judgment.

Tremendous Sea! what time thou lifted up Thy waves on high, and with thy winds anii

storms Strange pastime took, and shook thy mighty

sides Indignantly,—the pride of navies fell; Beyond the arm of help, unheard, unseen, Sunk friend and foe, with all their wealth

and war; And on thy shores, men of a thousand trihes, Polite and harharous, tremhling stood,

amaz*d, Confounded, terrified, and thought vast

thoughts Of ruin, houndlessness, omnipotence, Infinitude, eternity,; and thought And wondered still, and grasped, and

grasped, and grasped Again; heyond her reach, exerting all The soul, to take thy great idea in, To comprehend incomprehensihle; And wondered more, and felt their littleness. Self-purifying, uupolluted Sea! Lover unchangeahle, thy faithful hreast For ever heaving to the lovely Moon, That like a shy and holy virgin, rohed In saintly white, walked nightly in the

heavens, And to thy everlasting serenade Gave gracious audience, nor was wooed in

vain.

THE GROUND SWELL.

cArrI ,'GtoN.

The sun is high, the Atlantic is unfanued
Even hy the hreathing of the gentle West;
And yet the hroad hlue flood is not at rest!
Amid the holy calm on sea and land,
There is a murmuring on the dis'ant strand;
And silently, though Ocean heaves its hreast,
The shoreward swellings wear a feathery
crest,

And meet the opposing rocks in conflict

grand.
These, ships that dare the eternal winds and

seas,
In the commotion, roll without a hreeze,
And as their sides the huge upswellings lave,
His flagging sails the listless seaman sees,
And wishes rather for the winds to rave,
And, like an arrow, dart him o'er the wave.

THE TREASURES OP THE DEEP.

Mrs. hEMANs.

What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and and cells,
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious Main?

Pale glistening pearls, and rainhow-colour'd shells,
Bright things which gleam uureck'd of, and in vain;

Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy Sea,

We ask not such from thee!

Yet more, the depths have more! what wealth untold
Far down, and shining thro' their stiliness lies!

Thmi hast the starry gems, the hurning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal Argosies.

Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful Main;
Earth claims not these again!

Yet more, the depths have more! thy waves have roll'd

Ahove the cities of a world gone hy I
Sand hath filled up the palaces of old,

Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry!
Dash o'er them, Ocean! in thy scornful play!

Man yields them to decay!

Yet more, the hillows find the depths have more!

High hearts and hrave are gather'd to thy hreast!
They hear not now the hooming waters roar,

The hattle-thunders will not hreak their rest.
Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave—

Give hack the true and hrave!

Give hack the lost and lovely! those for whom
The place was kept at hoard and hearth so long;

The prayer went up thros midnight's hreathless gloom.
And the vain yearning woke 'mid festal song!

Hold fast thy huried Isles, thy towers o'erthrown,

But all is not thine own'

To thce the love of woman hath gone down,

Dark flow thy tides o'er Manhood's nohle head—

O'er Youth's hright locks and Beanty's flowery crown; Yet must thou hear a voice—Restore the Dead!

Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee,

Restore the dead, thou Sea!

THE SEA-SHELL.

Upon a rock's extremest verge,
Round which the foaming hillows heat,
I sat and listen'd to the surge,
Which threw its white spray o'er my feet.

Long, long I lingerM, lost in thought.
Still gazing on the houndless sea;
In whose unceasing flow is wrought
An emhlem of eternity.

I gather'd from the pehhled shore
A shell, with rainhow heanties ting'd;
And home my ocean-prize I hore
With many-colour'd sea-weed fringed.

As to my listening ear I held
The shining gem the hillows gave,
Within its fairy cavern swell'd
The mimic murmur of the wave.

Though distant far my footsteps stray'd,
Through shady grove or suuny plain,
Still, still its fairy cadence made
An echo of the roaring main.

Tis thus the aged seaman dreams,
When anchor'd in his tranquil home;
In wand'ring fancy still he seems
Through dark and stormy seas to roam.

He slumhers in a land of peace;
He hears no more the waters' strife;
But faithful memory still will trace
The dangers of his early life.

THE WRECK.

Mrs. hBMANs.

All night the hooming minute-gun

Had pealed along the deep, And mournfully the rising sun

Look'd o'er the tide-worn steep.
A hark, from India's coral strand,

Before the rushing hlast,
Had vailed her topsails to the sand,

And howed her nohle mast.

The queenly ship!—hrave hearts had striven,

And true ones died with her I We saw her mighty cahle riven

Like floating gossamer! We saw her proud flag struck that morn,

A star once o'er the seas, Her helm heat down, her deck uptorn,—

And sadder things than these!

We saw her treasures cast away;

The rocks with pearls were sown,
And, strangely sad, the ruhy's ray

Flashed out o'er fretted stone;
And gold was strewn the wet sands o'er,

Like ashes hy a hreeze,
And gorgeous rohes,—hut oh! that shore

Had sadder sights than these.

We saw the strong man, still and low,

A crushed reed thrown aside!
Yet, hy that rigid lip and hrow,

Not without strife he died 1
And near him on the sea-weed lay,

Till then we had not wept,
But well our gushing hearts might say,

That then- a mother slept;

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