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Time's lesson, of man's baseness or his own ? Sublime tobacco ! which from east to west
All nature is his realm, and love his throne. Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest;

Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides

His hours, and rivals opium and his brides;
Neuha arose, and Torquil : twilight's hour

Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand,
Come sad and softly to their rocky bower,

Though not less loved, in Wapping or the Strand;

Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe,
Which, kindling by degrees its dewy spars,
Echoed their dim light to the mustering stars.

When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe ;

Like other charmers, wooing the caress
Slowly the pair, partaking nature's calm,
Sought out their cottage, built beneath the palm;

More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;

Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Now smiling and now silent, as the scene;
Lovely as Love—the spirit !-when serene.

Thy naked beauties–Give me a cigar!
The Ocean scarce spoke louder with his swell,

Than breathes his mimic murmurer in the shell,

Through the approaching darkness of the wood
As, far divided from his parent deep,

A human figure broke the solitude,
The sea-born infant cries, and will not sleep,

Fantastically, it may be, array'd,
Raising his little plaint in vain, to rave

A seaman in a savage masquerade;
For the broad bosom of his nursing wave:

Such as appears to rise out from the deep,
The woods droop'd darkly, as inclined to rest,

When o'er the line the merry vessels sweep,
The tropic bird wheel'd rock-ward to his nest,

And the rough saturnalia of the tar
And the blue sky spread round them like a lake

Flock o'er the deck, in Neptune's borrow'd car;
Of peace, where Piety her thirst might slake.

And pleased the god of ocean sees his name

Revive once more, though but in mimic game

Of his true sons, who riot in the breeze
But through the palm and plantain, hark, a voice! Undreamt of in his native Cyclades;
Not such as would have been a lover's choice, Still the old god delights, from out the main,
In such an hour, to break the air so still; To snatch some glimpses of his ancient reign.
No dying night breeze, harping o'er the hill, Our sailor's jacket, though in ragged trim,
Striking the strings of nature, rock and tree, His constant pipe, which never yet burn'd dim,
Those best and earliest lyres of harmony,

His foremast air, and somewhat rolling gait,
With Echo for their chorus; nor the alarm Like his dear vessel, spoke his former state;
of the loud war-whoop to dispel the charm; But then a sort of kerchief round his head,
Nor the soliloquy of the hermit owl,

Not orer-tightly bound, nor nicely spread ;
Exhaling all his solitary soul,

And stead of trousers (ah! too early torn!
The dim though large-eyed winged anchorite, For even the mildest woods will have their thorn)
Who peals his dreary pæan o'er the night; A curious sort of somewhat scanty mat
But a loud, long, and naval whistle, shrill Now served for inexpressibles and hat;
As ever started through a sea-bird's bill;

His naked feet and neck, and sunburnt face,
And then a pause, and then a hoarse “Hillo! Perchance might suit alike with either race.
Torquil! my boy! what cheer? Ho! brother, ho!" His arms were all his own, our Europe's growth,
"Who hails?” cried Torquil, following with his eye which two worlds bless for civilizing both ;
The sound. “Here's one,” was all the brief reply. The musket swung behind his shoulders broad

And somewhat stoop'd by his marine abode,

But brawny as the boar's; and hung beneath,
But here the herald of the self-same mouth

His cutlass droop'd, unconscious of a sheath,
Came breathing o'er the aromatic south,

Or lost or worn away; his pistols were
Not like a "bed of violets" on the gale,

Link'd to his belt, a matrimonial pair-
But such as wafts its cloud o'er grog or ale,

(Let not this metaphor appear a scoff,
Borne from a short frail pipe, which yet had blown Though one miss'd fire, the other would go off;)
Its gentle odors over either zone,

These, with a bayonet, not so free from rust

As when the arm-chest held its brighter trust,
And puff'd where'er winds rise or waters roll,
Had wafted smoke from Portsmouth to the Pole,

Completed his accoutrements, as Night
Opposed its vapor as the lightning fashid,

Survey'd him in his garo heteroclite.
And reek'd, 'mid mountain billows unabash'd,

To Æolus a constant sacrifice,

“What cheer, Ben Bunting ?" cried (when in full Through every change of all the varying skies.

And what was he who bore it ?-I may err,
But deem him sailor or philosopher.f

Our new acquaintance) Torquil, “Aught of new?"
“Ey, ey!" quoth Ben, "not new, but news enow;

"-"Sail ! and how? If the reader will apply to his ear the sea-sheli on lois chimes-plece, he A strange sail in the offing."will be aware of what is allowed to. If the text s'wild appeap obecure, he What! could you make her out? It cannot be, till fail in G+r,” the aimr in trur expr-stad in two lines. -- The poern I've seen no rag of canvas on the sea." | Eever read, but have heard the lines quoerd by a more recondite reulerLe sets to be of a different opinion from the estiwr of the Quarterly

Belike," said Ben, "you might not from the bay, Restes, who quariiful it, is his answer to the Critie ! Reviewer of lus But from the bluff-head, where I watch'd to-day, Juvenal

, us trish of the worst and must innan description. It is to Mr. I saw her in the doldrums; for the wind Lanter

, the author, of " Gelår," so qualified, and of corne latin poema, Was light and bafiling."-"When the sun declined sich vie with Martii or Catullus in utracoity, that the inmaculate Mr. Bontlry address his ckclamation ngainst impurity!

Bokstr, the father of Locke's and other philophy, was as inveterate This rough but jovial ceremony, nsed in crossing the line, has boon maler, even to pipes beyond computeba.

often and so well described, that i neul not be more than alladod so.


Where lay she ? had she anchor'd?"_“No, but still Their present lot was what they had foreseen, She bore down on us, till the wind grew still." And dared as what was likely to have been ; “Her flag?"_"I had no glass; but fore and aft, Yet still the lingering hope, which deem'd their lo Egad! she seemed a wicked-looking craft." Not pardon'd, but unsought for or forgot, “ Arm’d ? "_" I expect so ;-sent on the look-out: Or trusted that, if sought, their distant caves 'Tis time, belike, to put our helm about." Might still be miss'd amid the world of waves, About ?-Whate'er may have us now in chase, Had wean'd their thoughts in part from what they We'll make no running-fight, for that were base, We will die at our quarters, like true men.” And felt, the vengeance of their country's law. “ Ey, ey! for that 'tis all the same to Ben." Their sea-green isle, their guilt-won paradise, “Does Christian know this "-"Ay; he has piped No more could shield their virtue or their vice : all hands

Their better feelings, if such were, were thrown To quarters. They are furbishing the stands Back on themselves,--their sins remain'd alone. Of arms; and we have got some guns to bear, Proscribed even in their second country, they And scaled them. You are wanted."-" That's but were lost; in vain the world before them lay. fair;

All outlets seem'd secured. Their new allies And if it were not, mine is not the soul

Had fought and bled in mutual sacrifice : To leave my comrades helpless on the shoal. But what avail'd the club, and spear, and arm My Neuha! ah! and must my fate pursue Of Hercules against the sulphury charm, Not me alone, but one so sweet and true?

The magic of the thunder, which destroy'd But whatsoe'er betide, ah, Neuha! now

The warrior ere his strength could be employ'd ? Unman me not; the hour will not allow

Dug, like a spreading pestilence, the grave A tear; I am thine whatever intervenes!” No less of human bravery than the brave ! 'Right," quoth Ben,“that will do for the marines."* Their own scant numbers acted all the few

Against the many oft will dare and do ;
But though the choice seems rative to die free,
Even Greece can boast but one Thermopylæ,
Till noro, when she has forged her broken chain
Back to a sword, and dies and lives again!



Beside the jutting rock the few appear'd,

Like the last remnant of the red-deer's herd;
The fight was o'er; the flashing through the gloom, Their eyes were feverish, and their aspect worn,
Which robes the cannon as he wings a tomb, But still the hunter's blood was on their horn,
Had ceased; and sulphury vapors upward driven A little stream came tumbling from the height,
Had left the earth, and but polluted heaven: And straggling into ocean as it might,
The rattling roar which rung in every volley Its bounding crystal frolick'd in the ray,
Had left the echoes to their melancholy;

And gush'd from cliff to crag with saltless spray; No more they shriek'd their horror, boom for boom; Close on the wild, wide ocean, yet as pure The strife was done, the vanquish'd had their doom; And fresh as innocence, and more secure, The mutineers were crush'd, dispersed, or ta’en, Its silver torrent glitter'd o'er the deep, Or lived to deem the happiest were the slain. As the shy chamois' eye o’erlooks the steep, Few, few escaped, and those were hunted o'er While far below the vast and sullen swell The isle they loved beyond their native shore. Of ocean's alpine azure rose and fell : No further home was theirs, it seem'd, on earth, To this young spring they rush'd, -all feelings first Once renegades to that which gave them birth ; Absorb'd in passion's and in nature's thirst, Track'd like wild beasts, like them they sought the Drank as they do who drink their last, and threw wild,

Their arms aside to revel in its dew; As to a mother's bosom flies the child;

Cool'd their scorch'd throats, and wash'd the gory But vainly wolves and lions seek their den,

stains And still more vainly men escape from men. From wounds whose only bandage might be chains ;

Then, when their drought was quench'd, look'd sadly II.

round, Beneath a rock whose jutting base protrudes As wondering how so many still were found Far over ocean in his fiercest moods,

Alive and fetterless :—but silent all, When scaling his enormous crag the wave Each sought his fellow's eyes, as if to call Is hurl'd down headlong, like the foremost brave, On him for language which his lips denied, And falls back on the foaming crowd behind, As though their voices with their cause had died. Which fight beneath the banners of the wind, But now at rest, a little remnant drew Together, bleeding, thirsty, faint, and few, Stern, and aloof a little from the rest, But still their weapons in their hands, and still Stood Christian, with his arms across his chest. With something of the pride of former will, The ruddy, reckless, dauntless, hue once spread As men not all unused to meditate,

Along his cheek was livid now as lead; And strive much more than wonder at their fate.

• Archidamus, king of Sparta, and son of Agesilaus, when he saw • " That will do for the marines, but the sailors won't believe it," is as old machine laventel for the casting of stories and darts, exclaimed that it was mying; and one of the few fragments of former Jealousica which still survive the grave of valor.” The same wory has been told of sorte knights on the fle jeut only) betweeu tseve gallant ervicer.

first appucativa el gunpowder ; but the original anecdote is in Plutarch


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His light-brown locks, so graceful in their flow, Inquired into his state; and when he heard
Now rose like startled vipers o'er his brow, The wound was slighter than he deem'd or fear'd,
Still as a statue, with his lips comprest

A moment's brightness pass'd along his brow,
To stifle even the breath within his breast,

As much as such a moment would allow.
Past by the rock, all menacing, but mute, “ Yes,” he exclaim'd, “ we are taken in the toil,
He stood; and, save a slight beat of his foot, But not a coward or a common spoil ;
Which deepen'd now and then the sandy dint Dearly they have bought us-dearly still may buy,
Beneath his heel, his form seem'd turn'd to flint. And I must fall; but have you strength to fly?
Some paces further Torquil lean'd his head 'Twould be some comfort still, could you survive;
Against a bank, and spoke not, but he bled, - Our dwindled band is now too few to strive.
Not mortally-his worst wound was within : Oh! for a sole canoe! though but a shell,
His brow was pale, his blue eyes sunken in, To bear you hence to where a hope may dwell
And blood-drops, sprinkled o'er his yellow hair, For me, my lot is what I sought; to be,
Show'd that his faintness came not from despair, In life or death, the fearless and the free."
But nature's cbb. Beside him was another,
Rough as a bear, but willing as a brother,-

Ben Bunting, who essay'd to wash, and wipe, Even as he spoke, around the promontory,
And bind his wound-then calmly lit his pipe, Which nodded o'er the billows high and hoary.
A trophy which survived a hundred fights,
A dark speck dotted ocean on it flew

A beacon which had cheer'd ten thousand nights. Like to the shadow of a roused sea-mew;
The fourth and last of this deserted group Onward it came-and, lo! a second follow'd-
Walk'd up and down-at times would stand, then Now seen-now hid—where ocean's vale was hol-

To pick a pebble up-then let it drop-

And near, and nearer, till their dusky crew
Then hurry as in haste-then quickly stop- Presented well-known aspects to the view,
Then cast his eyes on his companions--then Till on the surf their skimming paddles play,
Half whistle half a tune, and pause again-

Buoyant as wings, and flitting through the spray;-
And then his former movements would redouble,

Now perching on the wave's high curl, and now With something between carelessness and trouble: Dash'd downward in the thundering foam below, This is a long description, but applies

Which flings its broad and boiling sheet on sheet, To scarce five minutes pass'd before the eyes ;

And slings its high flakes, shiver'd into sleet: But yet what minutes ! Moments like to these

But floating still through surf and swell, drew nigk Rend men's lives into immortalities.

The barks, like small birds through a lowering sky.

Their art seem'd nature-such the skill to sweep V.

The wave of these born playmates of the deep. ( At length Jack Skyscrape, a mercurial man, Who flutter'd over all things like a fan,

More brave than firm, and more disposed to dare And who the first that, springing on the strand,
And die at once than wrestle with despair, Leap'd like a nereid from her shell to land,
Exclaim'd “G-d Damn!"-those syllables in- With dark but brilliant skin, and dewy eye

Shining with love, and hope, and constancy?
Nucleus of England's native eloquence,

Neuha—the fond, the faithful, the adored-
As the Turk's “ Allah" or the Roman's more Her heart on Torquil's like a torrent pour'd;
Pagan “Proh Jupiter !” was wont of yore And smiled, and wept, and near, and nearer clasp'd,
To give their first impressions such a vent, As if to be assured 'twas him she grasp'd;
By way of echo to embarrassment.

Shudder'd to see his yet warm wound, and then,
Jack was embarrass’d, never hero more,

To find it trivial, smiled and wept again.
And as he knew not what to say, he swore; She was a warrior's daughter, and could bear
Nor swore in vain; the long congenial sound

Such sights, and feel, and mourn, but not despair.
Revived Ben Bunting from his pipe profound : Her lover lived, -nor foes nor fears could blight
He drew it from his mouth, and look'd full wise, That full-blown moment in its all delight:
But merely added to the oath his eyes ;

Joy trickled in her tears, joy fill'd the sob
Thus rendering the imperfect phrase complete, That rock'd her heart till almost HEARD to throb;
A peroration I need not repeat.

And paradise was breathing in the sigh

of nature's child in nature's ecstacy.
But Christian, of a higher order, stood

Like an extinct voleano in his mood;

The sterner spirits who beheld that meeting
Silent, and sad, and savage,ếwith the trace Were not unmoved: who are, when hearts are
Of passion reeking from his clouded face;

greeting ?
Till lifting up again his sombre eye,

Even Christian gazed upon the maid and boy
It glanced on Torquil, who lean'd faintly by. With tearless eye, but yet a gloomy joy
"And is it thus," he cried, “unhappy boy!

Mix'd with those bitter thoughts the soul arrays,
And thee, too, theamy madness must destroy!" In hopeless visions of our better days,
He said, and strode to where young Torquil stood, When all's gone to the rainbow's latest ray,
Yet dabbled with his lately flowing blood;

“ And but for me!” he said, and turn'd away,
Seized his hand wistfully, but did not press, Then gazed upon the pair, as in his den
And shrunk as fearful of his own caress :

A lion looks upon his cubs again;

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And then relapsed into his sullen guise,

A spot to make the saved regret the deck As heedless of his further destinies.

Which late went down, and envy the lost wreck.

Such was the stern asylum Neuha chose

To shield her lover from his following foes ;
But brief their time for good or evil thought; But all its secret was not told; she knew
The billows round the promontory brought In this a treasure hidden from the vies.
The splash of hostile oars.-Alas! who made
That sound a dread? All round them seem'd array'd

Against them, save the bride of Toobonai:

Ere the canoes divided, near the spot, She, as she caught the first glimpse o'er the bay

The men that mann'd what held her 'Torquil's lot, Of the arm'd boats, which hurried to complete

But her command removed, to strengthen more The remnant's ruin with their flying feet,

The skiff which wafted Christian from the shore. Beckon'd the natives round her to their prows, Embark'd their guests, and launch'd their light she pointed calmly to the craggy isle,

This he would have opposed; but with a smile canoes, In one placed Christian and his comrades twain ;

And bade him “speed and prosper.She would taks

The rest upon herself for Torquil's sake. But she and Torquil must not part again.

They parted with this added aid; afar She fix'd him in her own.-Away! away!

The proa darted like a shooting star, They clear the breakers, dart along the bay,

And gain'd on the pursuers, who now steer'd And towards a group of islets, such as bear

Right on the rock which she and Torquil near'd. The sea-bird's nest and seal's surf-hollow'd lair,

They pull'd; her arm, though delicate, was free They skim the blue tops of the billows; fast

And firm as ever grappled with the sea, They flew, and fast their fierce pursuers chased.

And yielded scarce to Torquil's manlier strength. 'They gain upon them—now they lose again,

The prow now almost lay within its length Again make way and menace o'er the main ;

of the crag's steep, inexorable face, And now the two canoes in chase divide,

With nought but soundless waters for its base; And follow different courses o'er the tide,

Within a hundred boats' length was the foe, To baffle the pursuit.--Away! away!

And now what refuge but their frail canoe? As life is on each paddle's flight to-day,

This Torquil ask'd with half upbraiding eye, And more than life or lives to Neuha: Love

Which said—“Has Neuha brought me here to die? Freights the frail bark and urges to the cove

Is this a place of safety, or a grave, And now the refuge and the foe are nigh

And yon huge rock the tombstone of the ware ?" Yet, yet a moment !-Fly, thou light ark, fiy!

They rested on their paddles, and uprose
Neuha, and pointing to the approaching foes,

Cried, “ Torquil, follow me, and fearless follow !

Then plunged at once into the ocean's hollow.

There was no time to pause--the foes were near I.

Chains in his eyes, and menace in his ear; WHITE as a white sail on a dusky sea,

With vigor they pullid on, and as they came, When half the horizon's clouded and half free, Hail'd him to yield, and by his forfeit name. Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky Headlong he leapt-to him the swimmer's skill Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity.

Was native, and now all his hope from ill: Her anchor parts, but still her snowy sail

But how, or where? He dived, and rose no more; Attracts our eye amid the rudest gale;

The boat's crew look'd amazed o'er sea and shore.
Though every wave she climbs divides us more, There was no landing on that precipice,
The heart still follows from the loneliest shore. Steep, harsh, and slippery as a berg of ice.

They watch'd awhile to see him float again,

But not a trace rebubbled from the main :
Not distant from the isle of Toobonai,

The wave rollid on, no ripple on its face, A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray, Since their first plunge recall'd a single trace; The haunt of birds, a desert to mankind,

The little whirl which eddied, and slight foam, Where the rough seal reposes from the wind, That whiten'd o'er what seem'd their latest home, And sleeps unwieldy in his cavern dun,

White as a sepulchre above the pair Or gambols with huge frolic in the sun :

Who left no marble (mournful as an heir) There shrilly to the passing oar is heard

The quiet proa wavering o'er the tide The startled echo of the ocean bird,

Was all that told of Torquil and his bride ; Who rears on its bare breast her callow brood, And but for this alone the whole might seem The feather'd fishers of the solitude.

The vanish'd phantom of a seaman's dream. A narrow segment of the yellow sand

They paused and search'd in vain, then pull'd away On one side forms the outline of a strand

Even superstition now forbade their stay. Here, the young turtle, crawling from his shell, Some said he had not plung'd into the wave, Steals to the deep wherein his parents dwell; But vanish'd like a corpse-light from a grave; Chipp'd by the beam, a nursling of the day, Others, that something supernatural But hatch'd for ocean by the fostering ray ; Glared in his figure, more than mortal tall; The rest was one bleak precipice, as e'er

While all agreed that in his cheek and eye Gave mariners a shelter and despair ;

There was a dead hue of etern) 'y.


Still as iner oars receded from the crag,

The buttress from some mountain's bosom hurled, Round every weed a moment would they lag, When the Poles crash'd, and water was the world; Expectant of some token of their prey;

Or harden'd from some earth-aboding fire, But no-he had melted from them like the spray. While yet the globe reck'd from its funeral pyre;

The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave,

Were there, all scoop'd by Darkness from her care And where was he, the pilgrim of the deep,

There, with a little tinge of fantasy, Following the nereid ? Had they ceased to weep

Fantastic faces mop'd and mow'd on high, For ever? or, received in coral caves,

And then a mitre and a shrine would fix Wrung life and pity from the softening waves ?

The eye upon its seeming crucifix. Did they with ocean's hidden sovereigns dwell,

Thus Nature play'd with the stalactites, And sound with mermen the fantastic shell ?

And built herself a chapel of the seas
Did Neuha with the mermaids comb her hair,

Flowing o'er ocean as it stream'd in air ?
Or had they perish'd, and in silence slept

And Neuha took her Torquil by the hand,
Beneath the gulf wherein they boldly leapt?

And waved along the vault her kindled brand,
And led him into each recess, and show'd

The secret places of their new abode.

Nor these alone, for all had been prepared
Young Neuha plunged into the deep, and he

Before, to sooth the lover's lot she shared : Follow'd: her track beneath her native sea

The mat for rest; for dress the fresh gnatoo, Was as a native's of the element,

And sandal-oil to fence against the dew; So smoothly, bravely, brilliantly she went,

For food the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread Leaving a streak of light behind her heel,

Born of the fruit; for board the plantain spread Which struck and flashed like an amphibious steel. With his broad leaf, or turtle-shell he bore Closely, and scarcely less expert to trace

A banquet in the flesh it cover'd o'er;
The depths where divers hold their pearl in chase, The gourd with water recent from the rill,
Torquil, the nursling of the northern seas,

The ripe banana from the mellow hill;
Pursued her liquid steps with heart and ease.

A pine torch-pile to keep undying light, Deep-deeper for an instant Neuha led

And she herself, as beautiful as night, The way—then upward soar'd-and as she spread

To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the scene, Her arms, and flung the foam from off her locks,

And make their subterranean world serene. Laugh’d, and the sound was answer'd by the rocks. She had foreseen, since first the stranger's sail They had gain'd a central realm of earth again,

Drew to their isle, that force or flight might fail, But look'd for tree, and field, and sky, in vain.

And form'd a refuge of the rocky den Around she pointed to a spacious cave,

For Torquil's safety from his countrymen. Whose only portal was the keyless wave, * Each dawn had wafted there her light canoe, (A hollow archway by the sun unseen,

Laden with all the golden fruits that grew; Save through the billows' glassy veil of green,

Each eve had seen her gliding through the hour In some transparent ocean holiday,

With all could cheer or deck their sparry bower; When all the finny people are at play,)

And now she spread her little store with smiles, Wiped with her hair the brine from Torquil's eyes, The happiest daughter of the loving isles. And clapp'd her hands with joy at his surprise ; Led him to where the rock appear'd to jut,

And form a something like a Triton's hut; She, as he gazed with grateful wonder, press d
For all was darkness for a space, till day

Her shelter'd love to her impassion'd breast;
Through clefts above let in a sober'd ray; And suited to her soft caresses, told
As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle An olden tale of love,-for love is old,
The dusty monuments from light recoil,

Old as eternity, but not outworn
Thus sadly in their refuge submarine

With each new being born or to be born:T
The vault drew half her shadow from the scene. How a young chief, a thousand moons ago,

Diving for turtle in the depths below,

Had risen, in tracking fast bis ocean prey,
Forth from her bosom the young savage drew

Into the cave which round and o'er them lay; A pine torch, strongly girded with gnatoo;

How in some desperate feud of after time, A plantain-leaf o'er all, the more to keep

Hc shelter'd there a daughter of the clime. Its latent sparkle from the sapping deep.

A foe beloved, and offspring of a foe, This mantle kept it dry; then from a nook

Saved by his tribe but for a captive's wo; Of the same plantain-leaf a flint she took, How, when the storm of war was still'd, he led A few shrunk wither'd twigs, and from the blade

His island clan to where the waters spread Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and thus array'd The grot with torchlight. Wide it was and high, • This may seem too minute for the general online (in Mariner's Accoun :)

from which it is turken. But forw men have travelled without seeing conte And show'd a self-born Gothic canopy ;

thing of the kiod-on land, thout is. Without adverting to Ellora, in Mingo The arch uprear'd by nature's architect,

Park's last journal, (il my memory do woterr, for there are eight years since The architrave some earthquake might erect :

I read the book,) he mention having met with a rock or mountain so exacdy resembling a Gothic cathedral, that ouly a minute inspection could convince

him that it was a work of nature. of this save (which is no fiction) the original will be found in the ninth The reader will recollect the epigran of the Greek anthology, or the chapter of "Mariner's Account of the Tonga Islands." I have taken the translation into most of the modern languages : poetical liberty to traneplant it to Toobonai, the last island where any distinct

"Whoe'er thou art, thy master see, kocount is left of Christian and his comrades.

He was or in, or is to be "

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