STATELY yon vessel sails adown the tide,
To some far distant land adventurous bound,
The sailors' busy cries, from side to side,
Pealing among the echoing rocks, resound;
A patient, thoughtless, much-enduring band,
Joyful they enter on their ocean way;
With shouts exulting, leave their native land,
And know no care beyond the present day.
But is there no poor mourner left behind,
Who sorrows for a child or husband there?
Who, at the howling of the midnight wind
Will wake and tremble in her boding prayer?
So may her voice be heard, and heaven be kind,
Go gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair!
DURING A TEMPEST.
O GOD! have mercy in this dreadful hour
On the poor mariner! In comfort here,
Safe sheltered as I am, I almost fear
The blast that rages with resistless power.
What were it now to toss upon the waves,
The maddened waves,-and know no succour near; The howling of the storm alone to hear,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves ?
To gaze
And only see the billows' gleaming light;
And in the dread of death to think of her
Who, as she listens sleepless to the gale,
Puts up a silent prayer, and waxes pale!
O God! have mercy on the mariner!
amid the horrors of the night,
THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon these boughs, which shake against the cold
Bare, ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by-and-by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all the rest.
So here hath been dawning another blue day,
Think, wilt thou let it slip useless away?
Out of eternity this new day is born
Into eternity at night will return.
Behold it aforetime no eye ever did;
So soon it for ever from all eyes is hid.
Here hath been dawning another blue day,
Think, wilt thou let it slip useless away?
THE lapse of time and rivers is the same;
Both speed their journey with a restless stream.
The silent pace with which they steal away
No wealth can bribe, no prayer persuade to stay ;
Alike irrevocable both when past,
And a rude ocean swallows both at last.
Though each resemble each in every part,
A difference strikes at length the musing heart: Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound, How laughs the land with various plenty round! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected, leaves a dreary waste behind.
SWEET stream that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid,
Silent and chaste she steals along
Far from the world's gay, busy throng,
With gentle, yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course.
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes.
Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass,
And heaven reflected in her face.
WHEN all within is peace,
How nature seems to smile!
Delights that never cease
The livelong day beguile.
From morn to dewy eve,
With open hand she showers
Fresh blessings, to deceive
And soothe the silent hours.
It is content of heart,
Gives nature power to please;
The mind that feels no smart
Embraces all it sees:
Can make a wintry sky
Seem bright as smiling May,
And evening's cloudy eye
As peep of early day.
O SNATCH'D away in beauty's bloom!
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb,
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year,
And the wild cypress wave in tender bloom.
And oft by yon blue gushing stream,
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream;
And ling'ring, pause, and lightly tread,
Vain care!-as if her step disturbed the dead!
THE FOUNTAIN.
REST! This little fountain runs
Thus for aye: it never stays,
In the heat of summer suns,
Nor the cold of winter days.
Whosoe'er shall wander near,
When the mid-day heat is worst ;
Let him hither come, nor fear,
Lest he may not slake his thirst;
He will find this little river
Running still, as bright as ever.
Ir is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
The holy time is quiet as a nun,
Breathless with admiration: the broad sun
Is sinking down in his tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven is on the sea.
Listen! the mighty being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder-everlastingly!
AS I LAY A-THINKING.
As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Merry sang the bird as she sat upon the spray ;
There came a noble knight,
With his hauberk shining bright,
And his gallant heart was light,
Free and gay;
And as I lay a-thinking, he rode upon his
As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Sadly sang the bird as she sat upon the tree,
There seemed a crimson plain,
Where a gallant knight lay slain,
And a steed with broken rein
As I lay a-thinking-most pitiful to see.
As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Merry sang the bird as she sat upon the bough;
A lovely maid came by,
And a gentle youth was nigh,
And he breathed many a sigh,
As I lay a-thinking-her heart was gladsome now.
As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Sadly sang the bird as she sat upon the thorn; No more a youth was there,
But a maiden rent her hair,
And cried in sad despair,
"That I was born!"
As I lay a-thinking-she perished forlorn.
As I lay a-thinking, a-thinking, a-thinking,
Sweetly sang the bird as she sat upon the briar ; There came a lovely child,
And his face was meek and mild
Yet joyously he smiled
On his sire;
As I lay a-thinking-a cherub might admire.
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