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Montgomery's Poems.

A Danish winter, from the north,

Howl'd o'er the British wild,
But Alfred, like the spring, brake forth,

And all the desert smiled.

Back to the deep he roll'd the waves,

By mad invasion hurl'd;
His voice was liberty to slaves,

Defiance to the world.

And still that voice o'er land and sea

Shall Albion's foes appal;
The race of Alfred will be free;

Hear it and tremble, Gaul!

But lo! the phantoms fade in flight,
Like fears that cross the mind,

Like meteors gleaming through the night,
Like thunders on the wind.

The vision of the tomb is past;

Beyond it who can tell
In what mysterious region cast

Immortal spirits dwell?

I know not, but I soon shall know,
When life's sore conflicts cease,

When this desponding heart lies low,
And I shall rest in peace.

For see, on Death's bewildering wave,

The rainbow Hope arise,
A bridge of glory o|er the grave,

That bends beyond the skies.

From earth to heaven it swells and shines,

The pledge of bliss to man;
Time with Eternity combines,

And grasps them in a span!

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The subjects of the two following poems were suggested by the loss of the Blenheim, commanded by Sir Thomas Trowbridge, which was separated from the vessels under its convoy during a storm in the Indian Ocean. The Admiral's son afterwards made a voyage, without success, in search of his father. Trowbridge was one of Nelson's captains at the battle of the Nile, but his ship unfortunately ran aground as he was bearing down on the enemy.

A Vessel sail'd from Albion's shore,

To utmost India bound,
Its crest a hero's pendant bore

With broad sea-laurels crown'd
In many a fierce and noble fight,
Though foil'd on that Egyptian night,

When Gallia's host was drown'd,
And Nelson o'er his country's foes
Like the destroying angel rose.

A gay and gallant company,

With shouts that rend the air,
For warrior-wreaths upon the sea,

Their joyful brows prepare;
But many a maiden's sigh was sent,
And many a mother's blessing went,

And many a father's prayer,
With that exulting ship to sea,
With that undaunted company.

The deep, that, like a cradled child,

In breathing slumber lay,
More warmly blush'd, more sweetly smiled,

As rose the kindling day;
Through ocean's mirror, dark and clear,
Reflected clouds and skies appear

In morning's rich array;
The land is lost, the waters glow,
'Tis heaven above, around, below.

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Majestic o'er the sparkling tide,

See the tall vessel sail,
With swelling wings, in shadowy pride,

A swan before the gale;
Deep-laden merchants rode behind;—
But, fearful of the fickle wind,

Britannia's cheek grew pale,
When, lessening through the flood of light,
Their leader vanish'd from her sight.

Oft had she hail'd its trophied prow,

Victorious from the war, And banner' d masts that would not bow,

Though riven with many a scar; Oft had her oaks their tribute brought, To rib its flanks, with thunder fraught;

But late her evil star Had cursed it on its homeward way,— "The spoiler shall become the prey."

Thus warn'd, Britannia's anxious heart
Throbb'd with prophetic woe,

When she beheld that ship depart,
A fair ill-omen'd show!

So views the mother, through her tears,

The daughter of her hopes and fears,
When hectic beauties glow

On the frail cheek, where sweetly bloom

The roses of an early tomb.

No fears the brave adventurers knew;

Peril and death they spurn'd;
Like full-fledged eagles forth they flew;

Jove's birds, that proudly burn'd,
In battle-hurricanes to wield
His lightnings on the billowy field;

And many a look they turn'd
O'er the blue waste of waves, to spy

A Gallic ensign in the sky.

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But not to crush the vaunting foe,

In combat on the main,
Nor perish by a glorious blow,

In mortal triumph slain,
Was their unutterable fate;—
That story would the muse relate,

The song might rise in vain;
In ocean's deepest, darkest bed,
The secret slumbers with the dead.

On India's long-expecting strand

Their sails were never furi'd;
Never on known or friendly land,

By storms their keel was hurl'd;
Their native soil no more they trod,
They rest beneath no hallow' d sod;

Throughout the living world,
This sole memorial of their lot
Remains,—they were, and they are not 1
The Spirit of the Cape* pursued

Their long and toilsome way;
At length, in ocean solitude,

He sprang upon his prey;
"Havoc!" the shipwreck-demon cried.
Loosed all his tempests on the tide,

Gave all his lightnings play:
The abyss recoil'd before the blast,
Firm stood the seaman till the last.

Like shooting-stars, athwart the gloom

The merchant-sails were sped;
Yet oft, before its midnight doom,

They mark'd the high mast-head
Of that devoted vessel, tost
By winds and floods, now seen, now lost;

While every gun-fire spread
A dimmer flash, a fainter roar;—
At length they saw, they heard no more.

: TheCapeofGood Hope, formerly called the Cape of Storms.

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He sought his sire from shore to shore,

He sought him day by day;
The prow he track'd was seen no more,

Breasting the ocean spray;
Yet, as the winds his voyage sped,
He sail'd above his father's head,

Unconscious where it lay,
Deep, deep beneath the rolling main;—
He sought his sire; he sought in vain.

Son of the brave! no longer weep;

Still, with affection true,
Along the wild, disastrous deep,

Thy father's course pursue.
Full in his wake of glory steer,
His spirit prompts thy bold career,

His compass guides thee through;
So, while thy thunders awe the sea,
Britain shall find thy sire in thee.

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