The signal-shot flashed frequent from her tier
She struck, and staggered, in her mid career;
Then, swift as thought, her fragments strewed the spray, As some enchanted castle melts away!
A crowded skiff was labouring for the land—
The wreck they fled drove mastless and unmanned;
Bold the attempt, but fruitless, to elude
The swiftly-rolling billows that pursued.
Their bark had rubbed the sand, but failed to reach
Ere mountain waves broke o'er it on the beach,
And dashed them to the earth :-they rise-they spring-
Vain as the wounded plover's fluttering!
For oh! as if some sea-fiend mocked their toil,
The big wave caught them in its swift recoil.
One youth was left the lightning as it sped
Showed those who baulked the Sea-dog of the dead,—
Fling forth the coil he shivering grasped and now,
While some shade back the tangle from his brow,
An age-worn man that freezing eye surveys,
Where life late played-alas no longer plays!
Smites his scathed breast-and cries (in tones which speak
The heart's last burst of anguish ere it break)—
'How have I sighed to hail thy wanderings done-
'And meet we thus at last-my son! my son !'
The storm relents not-as the tiger's mood
Becomes blood-thirsty by the taste of blood,
It growls for other victims! Hast thou been
The near spectator of a ship-wreck scene?
Heard the unanswered cry of sore distress,
Marked the strong throes of drowning eagerness,
The body maddened by the spirit's pain,
The wild, wild, working of the breast and brain,
The haggard eye that, horror-widened, sees
Death take the start of sorrow and disease?
For such were heard and seen-so close at hand,
A cable's length had reached them from the land;
Yet farther off than ocean ever bore ;-
Eternity between them and the shore!
Some sought the beach with many a sob and strain,
But felt each sinew fettered by a chain
Which dragged them writhing down: a secret hand
Buoyed others up, and cast them on the land-
Miraculously saved! A few were there
Who prayed with fervent, and confiding prayer—
Alas, too few! The many sti!l would cling
To toil and tears-to life and suffering.
And some, whose anguish might not brook to wait
That shunless doom, plunged headlong to their fate;
Yet nature struggled till the last thick gasp;
It was a misery to see them grasp
The sliding waves, and clench the hand, and toil
Like a spent eagle in the whirlwind's coil-
Till dashed against some floating spar or mast,
On Ocean's rocking couch they slept at last.
Pale, panic-struck, the youth falls prostrate-reft
Of senses that had maddened were they left;
The hardened fool, whose life of enterprise
Long verged on death, in drunken frenzy dies;
And helpless woman's wail, upon the wave,
Pleads at the heart which yearns in vain to save.
But there were some, in hopelessness of soul,
Who pined at heart to reach the destined goal;
Yes, long had spurned the load of life, unawed,
But dared not rush, uncalled, before their God;-
Or, haply, pride that trembled at a stain,
Or, haply, love for those they would not pain,
Had moved to give the fatal purpose up—
Unedged the steel, and spilled the poison-cup:
These, bitter days, soul-racking nights had tried—
And scaped, perchance, the curse of suicide.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugged and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return;
With over-weathered ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggared by the strumpet wind!
AN anxious, lingering, perilous voyage past,
An India ship hailed Albion's land at last!
Moored in the Downs, her mighty pinions close
Like some far flying bird that seeks repose;
While, crowding on the deck, a hundred eyes
Turned shoreward-flashed with pleasure and surprise.
That eve they anchored, from the horizon's hem
The virgin Moon, as if to welcome them,
Rose from her rest-but would no more reveal
Than the faint outline of her pale profile :
Though soon (as maids forego their fears) she gave
Her orbed brow to kiss the wanton wave:
Till-like a scornful lover, swoll'n with pride,
Because too fondly loved to be denied,
The rude wave spurned her off, and raised that loud
And angry blast that screamed through sail and shroud,
The live-long night on which my harp is dwelling.
Meanwhile, the swarthy crew, each care dispelling,
Had sported thrice three summer suns away
Since they had cast their anchor in that bay.
O, none save Fortune's step-sons, doomed to roam
The deep, can prize a harbour and a home!
The temperate breeze their sun-bronzed temples blessing-
A native shore the gladdened eye refreshing—
The painted pinnace dancing from the land
Freighted with friends-the pressure of the hand
Whose pulse throbs happy seconds-the warm gush
Of blood into the cheek, as it would rush
With the heart's welcome ere the tongue could half
Perform its office-feeling's telegraph!
Impassioned smiles, and tears of rapture starting-
Oh, how unlike the tears which fell at parting!
And all were their's that good ship's gallant crew-
As though each joy which absence rendered due
Were paid in one bright moment: such are known
To those long severed, loving, loved, alone!
A gorgeous freight that broad-sailed vessel bore-
The blazing diamonds and the blushing ore;
Spices that sighed their incense, till the sails
Were fanned along on aromatic gales
From Orient lands. Then marvel not if he
Who there is Chief should look exultingly
Back on the storms he baffled, and should know
The bosom's warmest wildest overflow
While gazing on the land which laughed before him-
The smooth sea round-the blue pavilion o'er him!
Yet felt he more than ever sprang from these,
For love demanded deeper sympathies ;
And long in lonely bower had sighed for him
A fond fair Bride, whose infant Cherubim
Oft spirit-clouded from its playthings crept,
To weep beside its mother while she wept.
But O, they met at length! And such sweet days
Already proved as leave a light that plays
Upon the memory when their warmth is gone
The fount thus treasures sun-beams, and shines on
Through dusk and darkness. Like some happy mother,
Joy marked the hours pursuing one another—
A wreath of buoyant angels! Yet as they
Wheeled laughing round, oft sighed—to make them stay!
This was a day of banqueting on board;
And swan-winged barks, and barges many-oared
Came crowded to the feast. The young-the gay-
The beautiful-were there. Right merrily
The pleasure boats glide onward;—with swift prow
The clear wave curling, till around each bow,
With frequent flash, the bright and feathery spray
Threw mimic rainbows at the sun in play.
The ship is won, the silken chair is lowered-
Exulting Youth and Beauty bound on board;
And, while they wondering gaze on sail and shroud,
The flag flaps o'er them like a crimson cloud.
Young Pleasure kissed each heart! From Persia's loom An ample awning spread its purple bloom
To canopy the guests; and vases, wreathed
With deep-hued flowers and foliage, sweetly breathed
Their incense, fresh as zephyrs when they rove
Among the blossoms of a citron grove;
Soft sounds-(invisible spirits on the wing)—
Were heard and felt around them hovering ;-
In short, some magic seemed to sway the hour,
The wand-struck deck becomes an orient bower!
A very wilderness of blushing roses,
Just such as Love would chuse when he reposes.
The pendant orange from a lush of leaves,
Hangs like Hesperian gold; and, tied in sheaves,
Carnations prop their triple coronals;
The grape, out-peeping from thick foliage, falls
Like clustered amethysts in deep festoons;
And shells are scattered round which Indian moons
Had sheeted with the silver of their beams;
But O, what, more than all, the scene beseems,
Fair, faultless forms, glide there with wing-like motion !— Bright as young Peris rising from the ocean!
Eve darkened down-and yet they were not gone;
The sky had changed, the sudden storm came on!
ONE waved on high a ruby sparkling bowl-
(Youth, passion, wine, ran riot in his soul)—
"Fill to the brim," he cried, "let others peer
Their doubtful path to heaven;-my heaven is here!
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