No braver chief could Albion boast Than he with whom he went ; Nor ever ship left Albion's coast He loved them both, but both in vain, 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, He shouted ;- -nor his friends had failed, They left their outcast mate behind, Some succour yet they could afford : The cask, the coop, the floated cord, But he, (they knew) nor ship, nor shore, Whate'er they gave, should visit more. Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he Yet bitter felt it still to die, He long survives, who lives an hour And so long he, with unspent power, And ever, as the minutes flew, At length, his transient respite past, 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 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, But misery still delights to trace No voice divine the storm allay'd, And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he! WILD FLOWERS. R. Nicholl. BEAUTIFUL children of the woods and fields ! That bloom by mountain streamlets 'mid the heather, Or into clusters, 'neath the hazels, gatherOr where by hoary rocks you make your bields, And sweetly flourish on thro' summer weather— I love ye all! Beautiful flowers! to me ye fresher seem Fair modest maidens, nursed in hamlets smallI love ye all ! Beautiful gems ! that on the brow of earth Though lowly ye, and most without a name, Beautiful things ye are, where'er ye grow ! And thousands more, of blessed forms and dyes, Beautiful nurslings of the early dew! Fann'd, in your loveliness, by every breeze, And shaded o'er by green and arching trees: I often wish that I were one of you, Dwelling afar upon the grassy leas I love ye all! Beautiful watchers! day and night ye wake! But ye are watchful, wheresoe'er we stray— Beautiful objects of the wild bee's love! The wild bird joys your opening bloom to see, And in your native woods and wilds to be. All hearts, to Nature true, ye strangely move; Ye are so passing fair-so passing freeI love ye all! Beautiful children of the glen and dell— The dingle deep-the muirland stretching wide, And of the mossy fountain's sedgy side! Ye o'er my heart have thrown a lovesome spell; And, though the worldling, scorning, may deride, I love ye all! ON MAN'S TWO ENEMIES. Francis Quarles. Two potent enemies attend on man, One's fat and plump, the other lean and wan; |