Thus Rodmond, train'd by this unhallow'd crew, The sacred social passions never knew: Unskill'd to argue ; in dispute yet loud; Bold without caution; without honours proud; And every gate of hope against him clos'd. In art unschool'd, each veteran rule he Both, in lamenting numbers o'er the deep, priz'd, With conscious anguish taught the harp And all improvement haughtily despis'd. Yet though full oft to future perils blind, With skill superior glow'd his daring mind, Through snares of death the reeling bark to guide, to weep; And both the raging surge in safety bore Amid destruction panting to the shore. This last our tragic story from the wave Of dark oblivion haply yet may save; When midnight shades involve the raging With genuine sympathy may yet complain While sad remembrance bleeds at every vein. tide. ARION, SECOND MATE. To Rodmond next, in order of command, Succeeds the youngest of our naval band. But what avails it to record a name fame? SUNSET. The sun's bright orb declining, all serene, Now glanc'd obliquely o'er the woodland scene; That courts no rank among the sons of Creation smiles around, on every spray The warbling birds exalt their evening lay, Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy While yet a stripling, oft with fond alarms His bosom danc'd to nature's boundless charms; train Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain : On him fair science dawn'd, in happier The golden lime and orange there were hour, seen, Awakening into bloom young fancy's On fragrant branches of perpetual green. The crystal streams, that velvet meadows While yet the songsters of the vocal grove With dying numbers tune the soul to love; With joyful eyes the attentive master sees Th' auspicious omens of the eastern breeze. Now radiant Hesper leads the starry train, And night slow draws her veil o'er land and main. Round the charg'd bowl the sailors form a ring, By turns recount the wondrous tale, or sing, As love or battle, hardships of the main, Or genial wine, awake the homely strain ; Then some the watch of night alternate keep, The rest lie buried in oblivious sleep. DESCRIPTION OF THE SHIP. The natives, while the ship departs their land, Ashore with admiration gazing stand. Her milk-white bottom cast a softer gleam While trembling thro' the green translucent stream. The wales, that close above in contrast shone, Clasp the long fabric with a jetty zone. Britannia, riding awful on the prow, Gaz'd o'er the vassal-wave that roll'd be low; Where'er she mov'd, the vassal-waves were seen Her left propitious bore a mystic shield, Around whose margin rolls the wat'ry field. There her bold Genius, in his floating car, O'er the wild billows hurls the storm of war; And lo! the beasts, that oft with jealous rage In bloody combat met, from age to age, Tam'd into Union, yok'd in friendship's chain, Draw his proud chariot round the vanquish'd main, From the broad margin to the centre grew Shelves, rocks, and whirlpools, hideous to the view! Th' immortal shield from Neptune she receiv'd, When first her head above the waters heav'd. Loose floated o'er her limbs an azure vest; A figur'd scutcheon glitter'd on her breast: There, from one parent-soil, for ever young, The blooming rose and hardy thistle sprung. Around her head an oaken wreath was seen, Inwove with laurels of unfading green. Such was the sculptur'd prow-from van to rear, Th' artillery frown'd, a black tremendous tier! Enbalm'd with orient gum, above the wave, The swelling sides a yellow radiance gave. To yield obsequious, and confess their On the broad stern a pencil warm and queen. Th' imperial trident grac'd her dexter hand, Of power to rule the surge, like Moses' wand, Th' eternal empire of the main to keep, And guide her squadrons o'er the trem bling deep. bold, That never servile rules of art controll'd, An allegoric tale on high portray'd; There a young hero; here a royal maid : Fair England's Genius, in the youth exprest, Her ancient foe, but now her friend, confest, The warlike nymph with fond regard survey'd ; No more his hostile frown her heart dismay'd. His look, that once shot terror from afar, Like young Alcides, or the god of war, Serene as summer's evening skies she saw; Serene, yet firm; tho' mild, impressing awe. Her nervous arm, inur'd to toils severe, Brandish'd th' unconquer'd Caledonian spear. The dreadful falchion of the hills she wore, Sung to the harp in many a tale of yore, That oft her rivers dy'd with hostile gore. Blue was her rocky shield; her piercing eye Flash'd like the meteors of her native sky. Her crest, high-plumed, was rough with many a scar, And o'er her helmet gleam'd the northern star. The warrior youth appear'd of noble frame; The hardy offspring of some Runic dame. Loose o'er his shoulders hung the slacken'd bow, Renown'd in song, the terror of the foe! The sword, that oft the barbarous North defy'd, Where other suns to other systems rise! These front the scene conspicuous; over head Albion's proud oak his filial branches spread; While on the sea-beat shore obsequious stood, Beneath their feet, the father of the flood. Here, the bold native of her cliffs above, Perched by the martial maid the bird of Jove; There on the watch, sagacious of his prey, With.eyes of fire, an English mastiff lay. Yonder fair commerce stretch'd her wingèd sail; Here frowned the god that wakes the living gale: High o'er the poop, the flattering winds unfurl'd Th' imperial flag that rules the wat'ry world. Deep-blushing armours all the tops invest, And warlike trophies either quarter dress'd; There tower'd the masts; the canvas swell'd on high; And waving streamers floated in the sky. Thus the rich vessel moves in trim array, The scourge of tyrants! glitter'd by his Like some fair virgin on her bridal day. side. Clad in refulgent arms, in battle won, The George emblazon'd on his corslet shone. Fast by his side was seen a golden lyre, Pregnant with numbers of eternal fire; Whose strings unlock the witches' midnight spell, Or waft rapt fancy through the gulfs of hell; Struck with contagion, kindling Fancy hears Thus like a swan she cleaves the wat'ry plain, The pride and wonder as the Ægean main! THE DYING DOLPHIN. And now, approaching near the lofty stern, A shoal of sportive dolphins they discern. From burnish'd scales they beam refulgent rays, Till all the glowing ocean seems to blaze. The songs of heaven! the music of the In curling wreaths they wanton on the Borne on Newtonian wing, thro' air she Now bound aloft, now downward swiftly glide; flies, Awhile beneath the waves their tracks remain, And burn in silver streams along the liquid plain. Soon to the sport of death the crew repair, Dart the long lance, or spread the baited snare. One in redoubling mazes wheels along, And glides, unhappy! near the triple prong. Rodmond unerring o'er his head suspends The barbed steel, and every turn attends; Unerring aim'd, the missile weapon flew, And, plunging, struck the fated victim thro'. Th' upturning points his ponderous bulk sustain ; On deck he struggles with convulsive pain. But while his heart the fatal javelin thrills, And flitting life escapes in sanguine rills, What radiant changes strike th' astonish'd sight! What glowing hues of mingled shade and light! Not equal beauties gild the lucid west, With parting beams all o'er profuse ly drest. Not lovelier colours paint the vernal dawn, When orient dews impearl th' enamell'd lawn, THE STORM: TRIMMING THE SHIP. Fair Candia now no more, beneath her lee, Protects the vessel from th' insulting sea: Round her broad arms, impatient of control, Roused from their secret deeps, the billows roll. Sunk were the bulwarks of the friendly shore, And all the scene a hostile aspect wore. The flattering wind, that late with promised aid, From Candia's bay th' unwilling ship betray'd, No longer fawns beneath the fair disguise, But like a ruffian on his quarry flies. Toss'd on the tide, she feels the tempest blow, And dreads the vengeance of so fell a foe. As the proud horse, with costly trappings gay, Exulting prances to the bloody fray; Spurning the ground, he glories in his might, But reels tumultuous in the shock of fight; pest grew, And more incensed the southern demon blew. Than from his sides in bright suffusion The ship no longer can her topsails What terms of art can nature's power dis- They furl the sail, and pointed to the wind The yard, by rolling tackles then confin'd. play? Till deep immerg'd the sick'ning orb declines, While o'er the ship the gallant boatswain flies, Like a hoarse mastiff, thro' the storm he And now to cheerless night the sky recries: signs! Prompt to direct the unskilful still ap- Sad evening's hour, how different from the past! cheers. pears; Th' expert he praises, and the fearful No flaming pomp, no blushing glories cast. No ray of friendly light is seen around: The moon and stars in hopeless shade are drown'd. Now some to strike top-gallant yards attend; Some travellers up the weather backstays send; At each masthead the top-ropes others bend. FOUR SEAMEN LOST. Hadst thou, Arion! held the leeward post, The youngest sailors from the yards While on the yard by mountain billows above Their parrels lifts, and braces soon re move; Then topped an end, and to the travellers tied, tost, Perhaps oblivion o'er our tragic tale Charg'd with their sails, they down the Severer ills to suffer and relate! backstays slide. The yards secure along the booms re clin'd; While some the flying cords aloft confin'd. Awhile the crew relax from toils severe, And watery hills in dread succession flow. New troubles grow; new difficulties rise. For, while their orders those aloft at- To furl the mainsail, or on deck descend, Uplifted on its horrid edge, she feels reels : The sail, half-buried in the whelming wave, A fearful warning to the seamen gave: Torn with resistless fury from their hold, His race perform'd, the sacred lamp of | In vain their struggling arms the yard enday Now dipt in western clouds his parting ray. His languid fires, half lost in ambient haze, Refract along the dusk a crimson blaze; fold: In vain to grapple flying cords they try; |
