And o'er him bent his sire, and never rais'd
His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam
From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed,
And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glaz'd,
Brightened, and for a moment seemed to roam;
He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain
Into his dying child's mouth-but in vain.

The boy expired-the father held the clay,
And look'd upon it long, and when at last
Death left no doubt, and the dead burden lay
Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past,
He watch'd it wistfully, until away

'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast; Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering, And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering.

BYRON.

THE CASTAWAY.

OBSCUREST night involved the sky,
The Atlantic billows roared,
When one who little thought to die,
Washed headlong from on board;
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.

No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went;

Nor ever ship left Albion's coast

With warmer wishes sent:

He loved them both, but both in vain,
Nor him beheld, nor her again.

For long beneath the 'whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay ;

Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away.;

But waged with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.

He shouted ;-nor his friends had failed,
To check the vessel's course,

But so the furious blast prevailed,
That, pitiless perforce,

They left their outcast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.

Some succour yet they could afford:
And such as storms allow,

The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delayed not to bestow;

But he, (they knew) nor ship, nor shore
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.

Nor, cruel as it seemed, could he
Their haste himself condemn,

Aware, that flight in such a sea

Alone could rescue them;
Yet bitter felt it still to die,
Deserted and his friends so nigh!

He long survives who lives an hour
In ocean self-upheld;

And so long he, with unspent power,
His destiny repelled :

And ever as the minutes flew,
Entreated help--or cried, Adieu !

At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in every blast,
Could catch the sound no more;
For then by toil subdued, he drank
The stifling wave-and then he sank!

No poet wept him: but the page
Of narrative sincere,

That tells his name, his worth, his age,
Is wet with Anson's tear;

And tears by bards or heroes shed

Alike immortalize the dead!

I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate,

To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date;

But misery still delights to trace
Its semblance in another's case.

No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone ;

When snatch'd from all effectual aid,

We perish'd each alone :

But I beneath a rougher sea,

And 'whelm'd in deeper gulphs than he !

THE MIRAGE.

THERE was a shipwrecked mariner,

The last of all the crew,

He clung unto his cord-bound raft,

And saw no land in view.

He thought of all his miseries,
The hunger, cold, and pain;

The thirst-the weary days and nights,
All borne, perchance, in vain.

And then his face

grew

wild and wan,

His hair grew hard and grey;

And he longed to be with his comrades 'Neath the watery waste that lay.

When suddenly a sunlit isle

To his startled gaze appears;

His heart beats fast, and his fevered eyes
Are filled with a gush of tears.

COWPER.

The palm trees wave on a grassy shore,

The pure streams murmur nigh; And he thinks he hears the stock-doves coo, In the cedar's branches high.

And little children laughing play

By the clear tide's sparkling brim, Oh! how have they sunny, dancing waves, And a dead calm under him?

"O lift me, little children dear!
(I am but light and thin)
And carry me in your loving arms,
Those deep green woods within."

They heeded him not, they heard him not, He had no strength to move"Must I perish," he cried despairingly,

"In sight of land and love?”

"Pity me, little children dear!"
His voice rose piercing shrill,
But they played on right merrily,
And he lay moaning still.

The evening bell began to toll,
In the village beyond the trees,
It reached the mariner's fainting soul
On the wings of the balmy breeze.

But, ere a star had lit the sky,

That lovely isle grew dim;