They who in ships the sea's vast depths descend,
And o'er the watry world their passage bend;
They (more than all) their God's great works discern,
And midst th' unfathom'd deep his wonders learn.
There, from smooth calms, on sudden storms they rise;
Hang on the horrid surge, and skim the skies!
Now, high as heav'n they climb their dreadful way;
Now, sink in gulphy slants, and lose the day!
Giddy, they reel to shoot the frightful steep;
And their souls melt amid the sounding sweep!
Helpless, they cling to what supports them first,
And o'er them feel the breaking billows burst.
Then, to their last Almighty hope they cry;
Who hears, and marks them with a pitying eye;
He bids the storm be hush'd-the winds obey,
And the aw'd waves in silence shrink away!

Now follows Homer, with a terror and a ma, jesty which leave it almost doubtful to which of these great poets the victory should be ascribed but certain, beyond all question, that no other has equalled either of them,

O'er the broad sea the driving tempest spreads,
And sounding surges swell their sweeping heads.
Upwards, immense, the liquid mountains flow,
And shade the distant ship that climbs below!
Down her wash'd decks the whit❜ning foam rolls o'er,
And the big blasts thro' bursting canvass roar!
Back shrink the sailors from the briny grave,

And see pale Death press close on every wave!

We see here no time lost in enumerating little particulars: all the great and striking circumstances are thrown forward in their proper lights; but nothing is added that can either diminish or distract the apprehension. I have placed these two admirable descriptions thus opposite to each other, that some of our fashionable applauders of Homer may see his sublimity more than matched, in the works of a poet they have seldom heard of; and that they who are justly his admirers, may find cause to esteem him yet more, by observing how near he comes to one whom God was pleased after a peculiar manner to inspire and delight in.

While I am upon this subject, it falls naturally in my way to recollect a letter that was lately sent me by a gentleman, who writ the particulars of the story from the mouth of a person who was himself an eye-witness.

Sir,

You appear, by some of your writings, to be so heartily a lover of the trade and prosperity of your country, that I persuade myself you must of necessity be a well-wisher to the honest sailors: a set of men, who, at the continual hazard of their lives, contribute their toil and their skill to the power and grandeur of the

nation; and who, allowing themselves no leisure for luxury, furnish means, notwithstanding, to maintain the luxury of other people. The sailors, to be short, are a race of open-hearted, gallant thinkers, who retain the plainness, the uncorrupted sincerity, and blunt species of virtue, which distinguished our fore-fathers, and which Old England has so often triumphed by, in times whose customs we rather admire than imitate. Whatever therefore relates, in a very extraordinary manner, to the good or ill fortune of any of this useful and worthy race of your kindred plain-dealers, I promise myself you will take pleasure to distinguish, by allowing it a place in your paper.

The ship Bouevia, of London, of burthen about two hundred and fifty tons, Captain Brooks commander, set sail from the coast of Holland, on the twenty-fifth of November last; having two pilots, one English, and the other Dutch; and his wife was on board with him.

The day had been fair and clear; but in the evening, about six, it blew hard at south and by west. The gale increased into a violent storm, and continued for about seven hours, veering to the west, and north and by west; during which the ship was, stranded off Enchuysen,

in the Texel. In order to save themselves, if possible, the men all got into the long-boat, and were just ready to put off; but not having their captain among them, they called to him to hasten down, because the sea ran so high that it broke over the boat, and endangered her beating to pieces against the sides of the stranded vessel. The captain, in this nice and perilous point of time, recollecting that his wife was sea-sick in the cabin, could not bear the ungenerous thought of endeavouring to save himself without her, and was earnestly labouring to bring her along with him. But she, who had heard the men cry out that the boat would sink under the weight of two persons more, embraced him passionately, and refused to go. She wept, and told him, in the most moving manner, that a woman in such an extremity would prove a dangerous incumbrance. She implored him not to think of dividing his care, but tọ employ it all for preservation of his single life, much dearer to her than her own was.

For some time he pressed her in vain; but prevailed with her at length to come up with him upon deck; where the first observation they made was, that the boat was out of sight; having been beaten off by the force of the swell that rose between her and the vessel.

He was gazing speechless on her face, in a despair which he found no words to utter, when a billow, breaking over the midship, washed him headlong into the sea, and left her shrieking and alone behind him, in a condition so far less supportable than his, that, after a succession of the bitterest outcries, she fell forward in a swoon, and sunk senseless after him.

The boat, in the mean time, endeavoured to return to the ship, and passing providentially near their captain, who was yet faintly swimming, the men discerned him in the sea, and took him up quite spent and speechless; in which condition they laid him in the bottom of the boat, and coming along the ship's side, one of the sailors looking up, saw something like a woman, with her arms and clothes entangled in the shrowds.

This woman was the captain's wife, who, in the moment of her falling forward, had been saved and supported against that part of the rigging! She was still in a swoon, and insensible, but so beloved by the mariners, that they redoubled their efforts to get aboard, that they might have it in their power to save her; and they were so fortunate in their humanity, that they found means to lift her into the boat;