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Yet more, the depths have more! thy waves have rollid

Above the cities of a world gone by! 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 billows and the depths have more !

High hearts and brave are gather'd to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar,

The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave

Give back the true and brave !

Give back the lost and lovely ! those for whom

The place was kept at board and hearth so long ; The prayer went up thro' midnight's breathless gloom,

And the vain yearning woke 'mid festal song! Hold fast thy buried Isles, thy towers o'erthrown,

But all is not thine own!

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'Tis pleasant to wander along on the sand
Beneath the high cliff that is hollowed in caves;
When the fisher has put off his boat from the land,
And the prawn-catcher wades thro' the short rippling waves.

While fast run before us the sandling and plover,
Intent on the crabs and the sand-eels to feed,
And here on a rock which the tide will soon cover,
We'll find us a seat that is tapestried with weed.

Bright gleam the white sails in the slant rays of even,
And stud as with silver the broad level main,
While glowing clouds float on the fair face of Heaven,
And the mirror-like water reflects them again.

How various the shades of marine vegetation,
Thrown here the rough flints and the pebbles among,
The feather'd conferva of deepest carnation,
The dark purple slake and the olive sea-thong.

While Flora herself unreluctantly mingles
Her garlands with those that the Nereids have worn,
For the yellow-horned poppy springs up on the shingles,
And convolvulas rival the rays of the morn.

But now to retire from the rock we have warning,
Already the water encircles our seat,
And slowly the tide of the evening returning,
The moonbeams reflect in the waves at our feet.

Ah! whether as now the mild Summer-sea flowing,
Scarce wrinkles the sands as it murmurs on shore,
Or fierce wintry-whirlwinds impetuously blowing
Bid high maddening surges resistlessly roar;

That Power, which can put the wide waters in motion,
Then bid the vast billows repose at His word;
Fills the mind with deep reverence, while Earth, Air, and Ocean,
Alike of the Universe speak Him the Lord.

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Lone Nature feels that she may freely While the proud Pyrenees lay wrapt in breathe;

night; And round us and beneath,

Brilliant thy crest above the billows wild Are heard her sacred tones; the fitful sweep Arose; and first the infant sunbeam smil'd Of winds across the steep,

Warm on thy splendid bosom; still tby form Through withered bents-romantic note and Climbs like the warring Titan in the storm; clear,

And snows that hill and lowly valley drowo, Meet for a bermit's ear,

Exalt the splendour of thy glittering crown;

Nobly it swells like foam upon the main, The wheeling kite's wild, solitary cry, The brightest pearl of all the splendid chain: And, scarcely heard so high,

A tumulus to some proud chieftain rais'd The dashing waters, when the air is still, By warring demi-gods, the summit glaz'd From many a torrent rill,

With ice and frosted silver; when the gale That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell, Strips from its ivory breast the misty veil, Track'd by the blue mist well:

It seems all bright in renovated bloom, Such sounds as make deep silence in the Asculptur'd Venus, springing from the tomb; heart,

The mammoth of the mountains! proudest For thought to do her part.

bark
Amidst a snowy fleet; surviving ark,
Above a deep and roaring deluge pild!
Nature's pantheon! temple of the wild!
In clouds serene, 'midst rocking earth secure;

Cold as the vestal's bosom, and as pare.
MONT BLANC.

Drest in his silver robes the monarch towers,

And glitters in the moonbeams; mellow ANON.

showers Sire of the stormy Alps ! majestic power! Of light descending on his glistning crest, On whom the battling winds tremendous Fall sweet as dew upon the lily's breast; shower

A nurse, whose paps those mighty floods The fury of the heavens--hail, snow, and supply, rain;

That else would see their stony channels dry; And lightning pours its arrowy fires in vain! A barrier plac'd by heaven, a pathless mound, Cold at thy feet, like sparkles on the wave, To guard sweet Italy's enchanted ground, The thunderbolt falls harmless ; from the And fence her gardens from the spoiler's grave

hands, Of Chaos first thy temples rose to light, And all the northern clime's ferocious bands.

THE ASCENT OF THE GREAT ST. BERNARD.

HUSENBETH.

Have ye dwelt in the land of the brave and the free?

Have ye liv'd in the keen mountain air ?
Have ye lov'd the steep rock and the torrent to see,

Or to view the rough Alpine chasseur ?

Have ye climb'd the bigh mountain, and trod the deep snow?

Have ye wander'd with joy o'er the plain?
Or look'd down on the foam of the waters below,

With delight softly mingled with pain ?

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