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And on the shingles now he sits,
And scores the smooth, wet sands;
They ask him why he wanders so,
-“I wish, I wish that I might go!
But I would go by land; And there's no way that I can findI've tried All day and night!”–He look'd towards sea and sigh’d.
It brought the tear to many an eye,
Come! help us hoist her sail.”
He views the ships that come and go,
Of bright and broad spread wings
And where the far-off sand-bars lift
And send the sparkling hrine
But not to Lee. He sits alone;
Though tears will sometimes dim
The rocks are dripping in the mist
Scarce seen the running breakers ;-list
Their dull and smother'd roar!
And now the mist seems taking shape,
'T is close upon the coast.
A sweet, low voice, in starry nights,
Telling of wo and wrong ;
0, it is sad that aught so mild
The man should dread to hear!
In thick, dark nights he'd take his seat
Below-and hear it break
But thou no more shalt haunt the beach,
Nor feebly sit thee down,
To night the charmed number ’s told.
Come! live one, to the dead!"-
Again he sits within that room;
Or speak a friendly word.
Not long he 'll wait.-Where now are gone
And bathed thern in his flood
The darkriess, like a dome of stone,
How hard Lee draws his breath!
'Tis close at hand: for there, once more,
Twice thus she hither came ;-
And where she sank, up slowly came
He'll meet thee shortly, Lee.
They've met.—“I know thou com’st for me,"
Take me not to the dead.
Lee cannot turn. There is a force
How still they stand !—that man and horse.
-Thine hour is almost past.” “O, spare me," cries the wretch, “thou fearful one !" “My time is full—I must not go alone.”
" I'm weak and faint. 0, let me stay!"
-“ Nay, murderer, rest nor stay for thee !" The horse and man are on their way;
He bears him to the sea. Hark! how the spectre breathes through this still night! See, from his nostrils streams a deathly light!
He's on the beach; but stops not there.
'Tis vain! The spirit-corse
It lights the sea around their track-
Gone! gone! and none to save !
The earth has wash'd away its stain.
Froin the far south and north.
JAMES GATES PERCIVAL.
Dr Percival was born on the 15th of September, 1795, in Kensington, a parish of Berlin, Connecticut. That parish had long been the residence of his paternal ancestors--the family of the Percivals having removed to that place from East Haddam in the same state, two generations before. His maternal ancestors had lived in the town of Kensington, so called at first, from the time of its earliest settlement. The father of the poet, whose name was James, was a highly reputable physician in Kensington, where he died 1807, in the midst of life, much lamented by the inhabitants. He left a widow and four children, one daughter and three sons, with a valuable estate, which he had acquired by his profession. The daughter, who was the eldest child, died two or three weeks after her father, and the three sons, all of tender age, were left to the assiduity and care of a mother.
Dr Percival is the second of the sons, and the only one that received a liberal education. From the earliest period at which he could read, he was fond of books; and in a short time treasured up in a remarkably retentive memory all the stores of school-boy learning. Among his companions at school, he was distinguished by the ease with which he could learn his lessons, by superior intelligence, by a gentle and retiring disposition, and by an abstracted turn of mind. Ile seldom engaged in the common sports of the school, even with the boys of his own age. He possessed also a share of that distressing diffidence, and sensibility to suffering from the rudeness of the older members of the school, which Cowper has so feelingly depicted in his own case.
The occasion of his learning to read, and the rapidity of his progress in the art, show strikingly the
ent and powers of his understanding. At a time when he could only spell his words with difficulty, he received a book at school, which it was customary for the master on a Saturday to give to some deserving scholar, to be kept till the following Monday, and