He waded through the waves, with plank or pole, Towards where the mariner in conflict dread Was buffeting for life the roaring surge; And now just seen, now lost in foaming gulfs, The dismal gleaming of the clouded moon Show'd the dire peril. Often had he snatch'd From the wild billows some unhappy man Who lived to bless the hermit of the rocks. But if his generous cares were all in vain, And with slow swell the tide of morning bore Some blue swoln corse to land; the pale recluse Dug in the chalk a sepulchre—above Where the dank sea-wrack mark'd the utmost tide, And with his prayers perform'd the obsequies For the poor helpless stranger.
One dark night The equinoctial wind blew south by west, Fierce on the shore;-the bellowing cliffs were shook
E'en to their stony base, and fragments fell Flashing and thundering on the angry flood. At daybreak, anxious for the lonely man, His cave the mountain shepherds visited, Though sand and banks of weeds had choked their way-
He was not in it; but his drowned corse By the waves wafted near his former home Received the rites of burial. Those who read, Chiseled within the rock, these mournful lines, Memorials of his sufferings, did not grieve, That dying in the cause of charity His spirit, from its earthly bondage freed, Had to some better region fled for ever.
FROM hostile shores returning, glad I look On native scenes again; and first salute Thee, Burton, and thy lofty cliff, where oft The nightly blaze is kindled; further seen Than erst was that love-tended cresset, hung Beside the Hellespont: yet not like that Inviting to the hospitable arms
Of Beauty and Youth, but lighted up, the sign Of danger, and of ambush'd foes to warn The stealth-approaching vessel, homeward bound From Havre or the northern isles, with freight Of wines and hotter drinks, the trash of France, Forbidden merchandise. Such fraud to quell Many a light skiff and well appointed sloop Lies hovering near the coast, or hid behind Some curved promontory, in hope to seize These contraband: vain hope! on that high shore Station'd, the' associates of their lawless trade Keep watch, and to their fellows off at sea Give the known signal; they with fearful haste, Observant, put about the ship, and plunge Into concealing darkness. As a fox,
That from the cry of hounds and hunters' din Runs crafty down the wind, and steals away Forth from his cover, hopeful so to' elude The not yet following pack,-if chance the shout Of eager or unpractised boy betray His meditated flight, back he retires To shelter him in the thick wood: so these Retiring, ply to south, and shun the land Too perilous to approach: and oft at sea Secure (or ever nigh the guarded coast
They venture) to the trackless deep they trust Their forfeitable cargo, rundlets small, Together link'd upon their cable's length, And to the shelving bottom sunk and fix'd By stony weights; till happier hour arrive To land it on the vacant beach unrisk'd.
THE LOSS OF THE HALSEWELL. SEE how the Sun, here clouded, afar off Pours down the golden radiance of his light Upon the' enridged sea; where the black ship Sails on the phosphor-seeming waves. So fair, But falsely flattering, was yon surface calm, When forth for India sail'd, in evil time, That vessel, whose disastrous fate, when told, Fill'd every breast with horror, and each eye With piteous tears, so cruel was the loss. Methinks I see her, as, by the wintry storm Shatter'd and driven along past yonder isle, She strove, her latest hope, by strength or art, To gain the port within it, or at worst To shun that harbourless and hollow coast From Portland eastward to the promontory, Where still St. Alban's high built chapel stands. But art nor strength avail her-on she drives, In storm and darkness, to the fatal coast; And there 'mong rocks and high o'erhanging cliffs Dash'd piteously, with all her precious freight Was lost, by Neptune's wild and foamy jaws Swallow'd up quick! The richliest laden ship Of spicy Ternate, or that annual sent To the Philippines o'er the southern main
From Acapulco, carrying massy gold,
Were poor to this;-freighted with hopeful Youth, And Beauty, and high Courage undismay'd By mortal terrors, and paternal Love Strong, and unconquerable even in death- Alas, they perish'd all, all in one hour!
BESIDE him o'er his harp Aneurin bow'd, The whitehair'd bard, sole faithful he, sole friend; For minds of poets from their own high sphere Look down on earth's distinctions, high and low, Sunken or soaring, as the equal sun
Sheds light along the vale and mountain's brow. He, in the hall of feasting who fast seal'd The treasures of his harmony, now pours Into the wounded heart his syrups sweet, And laps it in the silken folds of sound. But even among his strings the' infectious grief Hath crept, and wither'd up their wantonness. And wayward wanderings of despair belate His fickle tones: anon bursts full and free A start, a swell of pride, then sinks away Involuntary to such doleful fall,
Misery so musical, its languid breath Feeds, while it softens the deep-rooted woe. Such melodies at tragic midnight heard Mid a deserted city, gliding o'er
The deep green moss of tower and fane o'erthrown, Had seem'd immortal sorrows in the air,
O'er man's inconstant grandeurs. Sad such wreck,
More sad, more worthy angel's woe, the waste And desolation of a noble mind,
High fertile faculties run wild and rank, Bright fiery qualities in darkness slaked.
PARENTS DESERTED BY THEIR CHILD. MAIDEN! by Wye's transparent stream abode An aged pair, and their declining day
One beauteous child enlighten'd, and dispensed Soft moonlight o'er their darkening eve; they The only pang of death from her to part. [thought But heavy was their sinking to the grave, For that fair beam in unchaste darkness quench'd Its virgin lustre, and its light withdrew, Of their old limbs the life: alone they dwelt, In discontent and cold distaste of all, As her ingratitude had made them sick Of the world's hollowness, and if she fail'd, All earthly things must needs be false and frail. They ne'er reproach'd her, for so near the grave They could not hate; but for her sake they loathed Each old familiar face that once they loved. Where she was wont to wander wander'd they; The garden flowers she tended they bound up With woeful care; their chill and shaking hands Made tremulous music with her lute. I shrunk In hoary age to see such childish joys. They felt one after pleasure,-the same hour They glided from their woes, their parting breath, Blended in languid blessings on her head, For her went suppliant to the throne of God, Their lost Myfanwy.
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