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He springs from luis hammock - he flies to the deck,

Amazement confronts him with images dire
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck

The masts fly in splinters -- the shrouds are on fire!

Like mountains the billows tremendously swell

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his broad wings o’er the wave !

Oh! sailor-boy, wo to thy dream of delight !

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss Where now is the picture that fancy touch'd bright,

Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honied kiss ?

Oh! sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! never again

Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay ; Unbless’d and unhonor'd, down deep in the main,

Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless

surge ; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,

And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge.

On beds of green sea flower thy limbs shall be laid;

Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,

And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and

away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye
Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul !

ages,
shall circle

DIMOND.

THE HIGHWAYMAN.

Ah! family forlorn !What shall I do ? — whichever way I turn, Scenes of incessant horror strike my eye; Bare barren walls gloom formidably round, And not a ray of hope is left to cheer. Sorrowing and sick, the partner of my fate Lies on her bed of straw - beside her, sad, My children dear, cling to her breast and weep; Or, press’d by hunger, hunt each nook for food, And quite exhausted, climb these knees — in vain Ah! looks too eloquent !— too plainly mark’d; Ye ask for bread I have no breail to give And must Louisa then our tender babes Must they untimely sink into the grave ? Must all be victims to a fate so sore ? The world will nothing give but barren frowns : What then remains ? -- there stands the wretched hut I dare not enter - Heaven befriend them all! What then remains ? — The night steals on apace; The sick moon labors thro' the mixing clouds — Yes - that were well O dire necessity! It must be so Despair, do what thou wilt !

This forest gloom,
Made gloomier by the deep’ning shades of night,
Suits well the sad disorder of my soul :
The passing owl shrieks horrible her wail,
And conscience broods o'er her prophetic note ;
Light springs the hare upon the wither'd leaf,
The rabbit frolics and the guilty mind
Starts at the sound, as at a giant's tread. -

Ah me! I hear a horse upon the road -
Forgive me, Providence, forgive me, man!
I tremble thro' the heart — the clattering hoof
Re-echoes thro' the wood - The moon appears,
And lights me to my prey :

Stop, traveller! Behold a being born like thee to live, And yet endow'd with fortitude to die, Were his alone the pang of poverty: But a dear wife, now starving far from hence, Seven hapless hungry children at her side, A frowning world, and an ungrateful friend Urge him to actions which his heart abhors : Assist us save us — pity my despair, O'erlook my fault, and view me as a man. A fellow mortal sues to thee for bread, Invites thy charity – invites thy heart : Perhaps thou art a husband, and a father : Think if thy babes, like mine, dejected lay And held their little hands to thee for food, What would'st thou have me do, wert thou like me, Driv’n to distress like mine. Oh! then — befriend, Make our sad case your own – I ask no more, Nor will I force what bounty cannot spare : Let me not take, assassin-like, the boon Which, humbly bending at thy feet, I beg, Ne'er till this night [Traveller gives him a purse.]

Heaven speed thee on thy way!
May plenty ever sit within thy house !
If thou hast children, angels guard their steps !
Health scatter roses round each little cheek,
And Heaven at last reward thy soul with bliss !
He's gone — and left his

purse
within

my

hand. Thou much desired ! thou often sought! in vain.

Sought but not found at length I hold thee fast :
Swift let me fly upon the wings of love,
And bear the blessing to my fainting babes,
Then gently take Louisa in my arms,
And whisper to the mourner happier days.

Hark! what noise was that ?
'Twas the dull bittern booming o'er my head;
The raven follows her - The dusky air
Thickens each form upon the cheated sight :
Ha! somewhat shot across the way, methiuks!
'Tis but the shadow of this stripling tree,
That throws his baby arms as blows the gale.
Each object terrifies Guilt's anxious heart !
The robber trembles at

What have I said ?

O Heaven! what have I done ?

Robber! well may I start

Shall then Louisa live on spoil ?
Shall my poor children eat the bread of theft?
And have I, at the peaceful hour of night,
- Like some malignant thing that prowls the wood –
Have I !- - a very felon! sought relief
By means like these? And yet the traveller
Gave what I asked as if in charity;
Perhaps his heart, compassionately kind,
Gave from an impulse it could not resist :
Perhaps — 'twas fear — lest murder might ensue :
Alas ! I bore no arms - no blood I sought!
How knew he that ? — Yet sure he might perceive
The hardened villain spoke not in my air,
Trembling and cold, my hand was join’d with his,
My knees shook hard, my feeble accents fail'd,
The father's husband's- tears bedew'd my face,
And virtue almost triumph'd o'er despair !

Yet strikes the thought severely on my heart,
The deed was foul — Soft — let me pause awhile !
Again the moon-beam breaks

upon

the eye,
- Guilt bears me to the ground - I faint ! I fall!
The means of food should still be honest means,
Else were it well to starve !

PRATT.

THE ARAB’S FAREWELL TO HIS HORSE.

My beautiful ! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,
With thy proudly arch'd and glossy neck and dark and fiery eye,
Fret not to roam the desert now with all thy winged speed,
I may not mount on thee again, thou’rt sold, my Arab steed.
Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind-
The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind.
The stranger hath thy bridle-rein---thy master hath his gold —
Fleet limb’d and beautiful, farewell, thou’rt sold, my steed, thou’rt

sold.

Farewell.! these free untired limbs full many a mile must roam,
To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home.
Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare -
The silky mane I braided once, must be another's care.
The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee,
Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be.
Evening shall darken on the earth, and o'er the sandy plain,
Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again.

Yes thou must go, the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky
Thy master's home, from all of these, my exiled one must fly.
Thy proud dark eye shall grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,
And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.

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