Be it the summer noon: a sandy space The ebbing tide has left upon its place; Then just the hot and stony beach above, Light twinkling streams in bright confusion move (For, heated thus, the warmer air ascends, And with the cooler in its fall contends)— Then the broad bosom of the ocean keeps An equal motion; swelling as it sleeps, Then slowly sinking; curling to the strand, Faint, lazy waves o'ercreep the ridgy sand, Or tap the tarry boat with gentle blow, And back return in silence, smooth and slow. Ships in the calm seem anchor'd; for they glide On the still sea, urged solely by the tide; Art thou not present this calm scene before, Where all besides is pebbly length of shore, And, far as eye can reach, it can discern no more!

Yet sometimes comes a ruffling cloud to make The quiet surface of the ocean shake;

As an awaken'd giant with a frown

Might show his wrath, and then to sleep sink down.

View now the winter-storm! above, one cloud, Black and unbroken, all the skies o'ershroud; Th' unwieldy porpoise through the day before Had roll'd in view of boding men on shore; And sometimes hid and sometimes show'd his form, Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm.

All where the eye delights, yet dreads to roam, The breaking billows cast the flying foam

Upon the billows rising; all the deep

Is restless change; the waves so swell'd and steep,
Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells,

Nor one, one moment in its station dwells:
But nearer land you may the billows trace,
As if contending in their watery chase;

May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach,
Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch;
VOL. II.-N

Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force,
And then, reflowing, take their grating course,
Raking the rounded flints, which ages past
Roll'd by their rage, and shall to ages last.

Far off the peterel in the troubled way
Swims with her brood, or flutters in the spray ;
She rises often, often drops again,

And sports at ease on the tempestuous main.

High o'er the restless deep, above the reach Of gunner's hope, vast flights of wild-ducks stretch; Far as the eye can glance on either side, In a broad space and level line they glide; All in their wedgelike figures from the north, Day after day, flight after flight, go forth.

In-shore their passage tribes of seagulls urge,
And drop for prey within the sweeping surge;
Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly

Far back, then turn, and all their force apply,
While to the storm they give their weak, complaining
Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast, [cry;
And in the restless ocean dip for rest.

Darkness begins to reign; the louder wind
Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind;
But frights not him, whom evening and the spray
In part conceal-yon prowler on his way:
Lo! he has something seen; he runs apace,
As if he fear'd companion in the chase;
He sees his prize, and now he turns again,
Slowly and sorrowing: "Was your search in vain?"
Gruffly he answers, ""Tis a sorry sight!

A seaman's body: there'll be more to-night!"

Hark! to those sounds! they're from distress at

sea :

How quick they come! What terrors may there be ! Yes, 'tis a driven vessel: I discern

Lights, signs of terror, gleaming from the stern;

Others behold them too, and from the town
In various parties seamen hurry down;

Their wives pursue, and damsels, urged by dread,
Lest men so dear be into danger led;

Their head the gown has hooded, and their call
In this sad night is piercing like the squall;
They feel their kinds of power, and when they meet,
Chide, fondle, weep, dare, threaten, or entreat.

See one poor girl, all terror and alarm,
Has fondly seized upon her lover's arm;

"Thou shalt not venture ;" and he answers "No! I will not:" still she cries, "Thou shalt not go."

No need of this; not here the stoutest boat Can through such breakers, o'er such billows float: Yet may they view these lights upon the beach, Which yield them hope, whom help can never reach.

From parted clouds the moon her radiance throws On the wild waves, and all the danger shows; But shows them beaming in her shining vest, Terrific splendour! gloom in glory dress'd! This for a moment, and then clouds again Hide every beam, and fear and darkness reign.

But hear we now those sounds? Do lights apI see them not! the storm alone I hear: [pear? And, lo! the sailors homeward take their way; Man must endure : let us submit and pray.

Such are our winter views; but night comes on:
Now business sleeps, and daily cares are gone;
Now parties form, and some their friends assist
To waste the idle hours at sober whist;

The tavern's pleasure or the concert's charm
Unnumber'd moments of their sting disarm;
Playbills and open doors a crowd invite,
To pass off one dread portion of the night;
And show, and song, and luxury combined,
Lift off from man this burden of mankind.

Others, advent'rous, walk abroad and meet
Returning parties pacing through the street;
When various voices, in the dying day,
Hum in our walks, and greet us in our way;
When tavern-lights flit on from room to room,
And guide the tippling sailor staggering home:
There, as we pass, the jingling bells betray
How business rises with the closing day;
Now walking silent by the river's side,
The ear perceives the rippling of the tide;
Or measured cadence of the lads who tow
Some enter'd hoy, to fix her in her row;
Or hollow sound, which from the parish bell
To some departed spirit bids farewell!

Yes! there are real mourners: I have seen
A fair, sad girl, mild, suffering, and serene;
Attention (through the day) her duties claim'd,
And to be useful as resign'd she aim'd:
Neatly she dress'd, nor vainly seem'd t' expect
Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect;
But when her wearied parents sunk to sleep,
She sought her place to meditate and weep:
Then to her mind was all the past display'd,
That faithful memory brings to sorrow's aid:
For then she thought on one regretted youth,
Her tender trust, and his unquestion'd truth;
In ev'ry place she wander'd, where they'd been.
And sadly sacred held the parting scene:
Where last for sea he took his leave that place
With double interest would she nightly trace;
For long the courtship was, and he would say,
Each time he sail'd, "This once, and then the day :"
Yet prudence tarried, but when last he went,
He drew from pitying love a full consent.

Happy he sail'd, and great the care she took,
That he should softly sleep and smartly look;
White was his better linen, and his check
Was made more trim than any on the deck;

And every comfort men at sea can know
Was hers to buy, to make, and to bestow:
For he to Greenland sail'd, and much she told
How he should guard against the climate's cold;
Yet saw no danger; dangers he'd withstood,
Nor could she trace the fever in his blood:
His messmates smiled at flushings in his cheek,
And he too smiled, but seldom would he speak;
For now he found the danger, felt the pain,
With grievous symptoms he could not explain;
Hope was awaken'd as for home he sail'd,
But quickly sank, and never more prevail'd.

He call'd his friend, and prefaced with a sigh
A lover's message: "Thomas, I must die:
Would I could see my Sally, and could rest
My throbbing temples on her faithful breast,
And gazing go! if not, this trifle take,
And say, till death I wore it for her sake;
Yes! I must die: blow on, sweet breeze, blow on!
Give me one look before my life be gone!
Oh! give me that, and let me not despair,
One last, fond look-and now repeat the prayer."

He had his wish, had more: I will not paint
The lovers' meeting: she beheld him faint :
With tender fears, she took a nearer view,
Her terrors doubling as her hopes withdrew;
He tried to smile, and, half succeeding, said,
"Yes, I must die ;" and hope for ever fled.

Still long she nursed him: tender thoughts mean

time

Were interchanged, and hopes and views sublime.
To her he came to die, and every day

She took some portion of the dread away;
With him she pray'd, to him his Bible read,
Sooth'd the faint heart, and held the aching head:
She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer;
Apart she sigh'd; alone she shed the tear;