SHIPWRECK. THE frown of the night storm had scarcely blown by, The wind had not ceased from disturbing the sky, I looked to the sea, and a wreck had been tossed I sought from among the pale corpses around "Farewell, thou vain world," it exclaimed with a sigh, Disregarded and slighted by thee, For my country I fought; for my country I die; "For thee, native England, my life I have spent, "We were left on the brink of destruction to sleep And no voice has aroused us away: No arm has outstretched to collect the poor sheep 1 "And now I must go to the doom that I dread, With a life of iniquities heaped on my head, He ceased; and I sought him amongst the pale dead, While he yet had the hour to repent; When a heart-rending groan, that yet thrills through my head, Was the close of this hopeless lament. On the cold shore extended, I found him at last, His brow was still frowning, his hands were still clasped, Not far from his side lay a corpse on the sands, Once a captive in yonder frail wreck, by his chains- But a smile had been left on his African face His arms were still crossed in the lifeless embrace "Twas a Bible, that Christians of England had sent, And the Missions of England had given; "Twas that which had taught him in CHRIST to repent, And through faith to aspire to heaven. I mourned at the contrast: the slave that lay there, With a smile of sweet hope on his face; And the sailor, still black with the frown of despair, Beyond even death to erase. One prayer, one desire, my full heart seemed to have, To the darkness and guilt of the African slave, THE BIRDS OF PASSAGE. BIRDS, joyous birds of the wandering wing, Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring? "We come from the shores of the green old Nile, From the land where the roses of Sharon smile, From the palms that wave through the Indian sky, From the myrrh trees of glowing Araby. "We have swept o'er cities in song renowned, Silent they lie with the deserts round; We have crossed proud rivers whose tide hath rolled And each worn wing hath regained its home And what have ye found in the monarch's dome, O, joyous birds! it hath still been so : "A change we have found there, and many a change! And those that were young have a brow of care; And the place is hushed where the children played : Nought looks the same but the nests we made." Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth, Ye birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth! HEMANS. |