A YOUTH too certain of his power to wade On the smooth bottom of this clear, bright sea, To sight so shallow, with a bather's glee, Leaped from this rock, and but for timely aid He, by the alluring element betrayed,
Had perished. Then might Sea-nymphs (and with sighs
Of self-reproach) have chanted elegies
Bewailing his sad fate, when he was laid
In peaceful earth; for, doubtless, he was frank, Utterly in himself devoid of guile;
Knew not the double-dealing of a smile; Nor aught that makes men's promises a blank, Or deadly snare: and he survives to bless
The Power that saved him in his strange distress.
DID pangs of grief for lenient Time too keen, Grief that devouring waves had caused, or guilt Which they had witnessed, sway the man who built This Homestead, placed where nothing could be
Naught heard, of ocean troubled or serene? A tired Ship-soldier on paternal land,
That o'er the channel holds august command,
He, in disgust, turned from the neighboring sea To shun the memory of a listless life
That hung between two callings. May no strife More hurtful here beset him, doomed though free, Self-doomed, to worse inaction, till his eye Shrink from the daily sight of earth and sky!
(A Friend of the Author.)
FROM early youth I ploughed the restless Main, My mind as restless and as apt to change; Through every clime and ocean did I range, In hope at length a competence to gain; For poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain. Year after year I strove, but strove in vain, And hardships manifold did I endure, For Fortune on me never deigned to smile; Yet I at last a resting-place have found, With just enough life's comforts to procure, In a snug Cove on this our favored Isle,
A peaceful spot where Nature's gifts abound; Then sure I have no reason to complain,
Though poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain.
AT BALA-SALA, ISLE OF MAN.
(Supposed to be written by a Friend.)
BROKEN in fortune, but in mind entire And sound in principle, I seek repose Where ancient trees this convent-pile inclose,* In ruin beautiful. When vain desire
Intrudes on peace, I pray the Eternal Sire To cast a soul-subduing shade on me, A gray-haired, pensive, thankful Refugee; A shade, but with some sparks of heavenly fire Once to these cells vouchsafed. And when I note The old Tower's brow yellowed as with the beams Of sunset ever there, albeit streams
Of stormy weather-stains that semblance wrought, I thank the silent Monitor, and say,
"Shine so, my aged brow, at all hours of the day!
ONCE on the top of Tynwald's formal mound (Still marked with green turf circles narrowing Stage above stage) would sit this Island's King, The laws to promulgate, enrobed and crowned;
While, compassing the little mound around, Degrees and Orders stood, each under each: Now, like to things within fate's easiest reach, The power is merged, the pomp a grave has found. Off with yon cloud, old Snafell! that thine eye Over three Realms may take its widest range; And let, for them, thy fountains utter strange Voices, thy winds break forth in prophecy, If the whole State must suffer mortal change, Like Mona's miniature of sovereignty.
- I heard a voice exclaim,
"Though fierce the assault, and shattered the de
It cannot be that Britain's social frame, The glorious work of time and providence, Before a flying season's rash pretence
Should fall; that she, whose virtue put to shame, When Europe prostrate lay, the Conqueror's aim, Should perish, self-subverted. Black and dense The cloud is; but brings that a day of doom To Liberty? Her sun is up the while,
That orb whose beams round Saxon Alfred shone : Then laugh, ye innocent Vales! ye Streams,
Nor let one billow of our heaven-blest Isle
Toss in the fanning wind a humbler plume."
IN THE FRITH OF CLYDE, AILSA CRAG.
(During an Eclipse of the Sun, July 17.)
SINCE risen from ocean, ocean to defy, Appeared the Crag of Ailsa, ne'er did morn With gleaming lights more gracefully adorn His sides, or wreathe with mist his forehead high: Now, faintly darkening with the sun's eclipse, Still is he seen, in lone sublimity,
Towering above the sea and little ships; For dwarfs the tallest seem while sailing by, Each for her haven; with her freight of Care, Pleasure, or Grief, and Toil that seldom looks Into the secret of to-morrow's fare;
Though poor, yet rich, without the wealth of books, Or aught that watchful Love to Nature owes For her mute Powers, fix'd Forms, or transient Shows.
Varying her crowded peaks and ridges blue; Who but must covet a cloud-seat, or skiff
Built for the air, or wingèd Hippogriff,
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