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That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
How shall be meet that dreadful day?
When, shrivelling like a parehed scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead.
Oh! on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away!



How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep !-Sleep, gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,


Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody;
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watcb-case, or a common 'larum-bell ?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafʼning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ;
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.




It was the schooner Hesperus

That sail'd the wintry sea ; And the skipper had taken his little daughter

To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,

Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds

That ope in the month of May.

The skipper be stood beside the belm;

His pipe was in his mouth ; And he watched how the veering flaw did blow

The smoke now west, now south.

Then up and spake an old sailor,

Had saild the Spanish main, “I pray thee put into yonder port,

For I fear a hurricane.

Last night the moon had a golden ring,

And to-night no moon we see !”
The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe,

And a scornful laugh laugh'd he.

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Colder and louder blew the wind,

A gale from the north-east;
The snow fell hissing in the brine,

And the billows froth'd like yeast.

Down came the storm, and smote amain

The vessel in its strength;
She shudder'd and paused, like a frighted steed,

Then leap'd her cable's length.

“Come hither !—come hither ! my little daughter,

And do not tremble so;
For I can weather the roughest gale

That ever wind did blow.”

He wrapp'd her warm in his seaman's coat,

Against the stinging blast :
He cut a rope from a broken spar,

And bound her to the mast.

“O father! I hear the church-bells ring ;

O say, what may it be?” “'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast !"

And he steer'd for the open sea.

“O father! I hear the sound of guns ;

O say, what may it be ?” “Some ship in disti'ess, that cannot live

In such an angry sea !”

“O father! I see a gleaming light,

O say, what it may be ?”
But the father answer'd never a word,

A frozen corpse was he !

Lash'd to the helm, all stiff and stark,

With his face turn'd to the skies ; The lantern gleam'd through the gleaming snow

On his fix'd and glassy eyes.

Then the maiden clasp'd her hands, and pray'd

That savéd she might be ; And she thought of Christ, who still’d the waves

On the Lake of Galilee.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear,

Through the whistling sleet and snow, Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept

Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.

And ever the fitful gusts between

A sound came from the land ;
It was the sound of the trampling surf

On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows;

She drifted a dreary wreck ;
And a whooping billow swept the crew,

Like icicles, from her deck.

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