That wars on the wide ocean,-to look round,
But look in vain, for hope, and to behold
Fear in the face,-and in the soul despair!
How shall the rest be told? a fearful shock
Proclaim'd the ship had struck, then horror seiz'd
On every bosom; from her freighted hold,
Rush'd man, and child, and woman: as they came,
The fierce sea swept its victims, and we heard
Their yell of agony, and saw them sink,
Lover and friend, parent, and child, together,
Fast clinging in the grasp of Love and Death!
Awhile with feeble hold we fondly clung
(Vain refuge) to the wreck,-the greedy waves
Snatch'd and devour'd their victims; first we saw
The infidel torn from us,-with pale look
And limbs all quiv'ring, clung the wretched man,
And tried in vain to pray, for prayer fled
From his unwonted lips, and curses dire,
And fierce demoniac laughs, and piercing shrieks,
Bespoke the horrid conflict of his soul!
Then perish'd next, the good man,-in his face
There dwelt no terror, no, nor in his soul!
He raved not to the waters or the winds,
But as he sunk in death, I heard him speak
Of Him in whom he trusted; next we lost
The father and his daughters, and the sire
Was holding fast his offspring, and he begg'd
The waves to take their victim in himself,
But spare those lovely plants whom he had rear'd
From earliest childhood; to take him, but leave
His Emma and Eliza,-vain request !
The daughters and their sire were swept away,
And all went down together!-Next we lost
The soldier and his bride, and that sweet boy
Who was the life of both the storm had oped
The suff'rers wounds again, his spirit fast
Was hasting to its Giver; with faint hand,
He held his boy, but weaker grew his hold,
And the dread breakers seized that cherub child,
And hurled him from his parents. Then we heard
The frantic mother's anguish: with wild grasp,
She shook her fainting husband, and she call'd
The sire to save his son! but call'd in vain,
He sat unconscious, for his soul was fled!
Now came the wreck of all; I saw the sea
Come rushing on the vessel, and I heard
The crash that rent the wreck, and felt the waves
Roll darkly o'er my head; but knew and felt
No more,-until I woke, and found me laid
In a strange bark, with strangers; for, it seem'd,
They saved me and three others from the wreck.
They saved me, but I cared not, and for life,
The precious boon of life, I scarcely thank'd them!
For I had seen my gallant ship go down,
And my brave shipmates perish, I had heard
The strong man's groan of agony, the shriek,
The frantic shriek of woman, rarely breath'd
For her own sorrows, but for those she loves,
Promptest and loudest ! These I had seen and heard,
And what was life to me?
COME, Meditation, come!
: For I, meek saint, would flee, And find a tranquil home,
With solitude and thee.
Say wilt thou not declare
The place of thine abode ?
Is it in deserts, where
No human steps have trod ?
Or lov'st thou not, sweet spirit, more
The joys that Nature hath in store?
The fading sky, the darkening bower,
And all that charms the evening hour,
Whose scenes of beauty wean the sight
From shadowy dreams and visions light,
And fix the young enthusiast eye
On charms that never fade, on joys that cannot die!
By Fancy fired, I see thee now,
Stretched by yon Abbey's gothic pile,
I mark thy mild but chastened brow,
Thy sweet, but melancholy smile.
For here, while thoughtless mortals sleep,
Thine angel-spirit wakes to weep,
And loves, with ceaseless tears, to mourn
The sorrows of her lost one's urn.
And darkly through yon shadowy glades,
I view the forms of beckoning shades;
And hark! amid the twilight dim,
Echoes a high mysterious hymn;
And Meditation, while she hears
The strains of that immortal throng,
But asks to leave this vale of tears,
And join with seraph choirs, the high, th' eternal song.
But leave, oh, Spirit! leave
These scenes of gloomiest power,
For, lo! thy handmaid Eve
Awaits thee in her bower.
For thou delight'st, meek saint, to rove
By fairy stream, and haunted grove,
And many a face and form divine
Are vot'ries at thy twilight shrine.
There Sorrow's footsteps oft repair,
And Feeling walks a pilgrim there,
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