Montgomery's Poems. A Danish winter, from the north, Howl'd o'er the British wild, And all the desert smiled. Back to the deep he roll'd the waves, By mad invasion hurl'd; Defiance to the world. And still that voice o'er land and sea Shall Albion's foes appal; Hear it and tremble, Gaul! But lo! the phantoms fade in flight, Like meteors gleaming through the night, The vision of the tomb is past; Beyond it who can tell Immortal spirits dwell? I know not, but I soon shall know, When this desponding heart lies low, For see, on Death's bewildering wave, The rainbow Hope arise, That bends beyond the skies. From earth to heaven it swells and shines, The pledge of bliss to man; And grasps them in a span! THE CASTAWAY SHIP. 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, With broad sea-laurels crown'd When Gallia's host was drown'd, A gay and gallant company, With shouts that rend the air, Their joyful brows prepare; And many a father's prayer, The deep, that, like a cradled child, In breathing slumber lay, As rose the kindling day; In morning's rich array; Majestic o'er the sparkling tide, See the tall vessel sail, A swan before the gale; Britannia's cheek grew pale, 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 When she beheld that ship depart, So views the mother, through her tears, The daughter of her hopes and fears, 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; Jove's birds, that proudly burn'd, And many a look they turn'd A Gallic ensign in the sky. But not to crush the vaunting foe, In combat on the main, In mortal triumph slain, The song might rise in vain; On India's long-expecting strand Their sails were never furi'd; By storms their keel was hurl'd; Throughout the living world, Their long and toilsome way; He sprang upon his prey; Gave all his lightnings play: Like shooting-stars, athwart the gloom The merchant-sails were sped; They mark'd the high mast-head While every gun-fire spread : TheCapeofGood Hope, formerly called the Cape of Storms. He sought his sire from shore to shore, He sought him day by day; Breasting the ocean spray; Unconscious where it lay, Son of the brave! no longer weep; Still, with affection true, Thy father's course pursue. His compass guides thee through; |