He waded through the waves, with plank or pole,
Towards where the mariner in conflict dread
Was buffeting for life the roaring surge;
And now just seen, now lost in foaming gulfs,
The dismal gleaming of the clouded moon
Show'd the dire peril. Often had he snatch'd
From the wild billows some unhappy man
Who lived to bless the hermit of the rocks.
But if his generous cares were all in vain,
And with slow swell the tide of morning bore
Some blue swoln corse to land; the pale recluse
Dug in the chalk a sepulchre—above
Where the dank sea-wrack mark'd the utmost tide,
And with his prayers perform'd the obsequies
For the poor helpless stranger.
One dark night
The equinoctial wind blew south by west,
Fierce on the shore;-the bellowing cliffs were
shook
E'en to their stony base, and fragments fell
Flashing and thundering on the angry flood.
At daybreak, anxious for the lonely man,
His cave the mountain shepherds visited,
Though sand and banks of weeds had choked
their way-
He was not in it; but his drowned corse
By the waves wafted near his former home
Received the rites of burial. Those who read,
Chiseled within the rock, these mournful lines,
Memorials of his sufferings, did not grieve,
That dying in the cause of charity
His spirit, from its earthly bondage freed,
Had to some better region fled for ever.
FROM hostile shores returning, glad I look
On native scenes again; and first salute
Thee, Burton, and thy lofty cliff, where oft
The nightly blaze is kindled; further seen
Than erst was that love-tended cresset, hung
Beside the Hellespont: yet not like that
Inviting to the hospitable arms
Of Beauty and Youth, but lighted up, the sign
Of danger, and of ambush'd foes to warn
The stealth-approaching vessel, homeward bound
From Havre or the northern isles, with freight
Of wines and hotter drinks, the trash of France,
Forbidden merchandise. Such fraud to quell
Many a light skiff and well appointed sloop
Lies hovering near the coast, or hid behind
Some curved promontory, in hope to seize
These contraband: vain hope! on that high shore
Station'd, the' associates of their lawless trade
Keep watch, and to their fellows off at sea
Give the known signal; they with fearful haste,
Observant, put about the ship, and plunge
Into concealing darkness. As a fox,
That from the cry of hounds and hunters' din
Runs crafty down the wind, and steals away
Forth from his cover, hopeful so to' elude
The not yet following pack,-if chance the shout
Of eager or unpractised boy betray
His meditated flight, back he retires
To shelter him in the thick wood: so these
Retiring, ply to south, and shun the land
Too perilous to approach: and oft at sea
Secure (or ever nigh the guarded coast
They venture) to the trackless deep they trust
Their forfeitable cargo, rundlets small,
Together link'd upon their cable's length,
And to the shelving bottom sunk and fix'd
By stony weights; till happier hour arrive
To land it on the vacant beach unrisk'd.
THE LOSS OF THE HALSEWELL. SEE how the Sun, here clouded, afar off Pours down the golden radiance of his light Upon the' enridged sea; where the black ship Sails on the phosphor-seeming waves. So fair, But falsely flattering, was yon surface calm, When forth for India sail'd, in evil time, That vessel, whose disastrous fate, when told, Fill'd every breast with horror, and each eye With piteous tears, so cruel was the loss. Methinks I see her, as, by the wintry storm Shatter'd and driven along past yonder isle, She strove, her latest hope, by strength or art, To gain the port within it, or at worst To shun that harbourless and hollow coast From Portland eastward to the promontory, Where still St. Alban's high built chapel stands. But art nor strength avail her-on she drives, In storm and darkness, to the fatal coast; And there 'mong rocks and high o'erhanging cliffs Dash'd piteously, with all her precious freight Was lost, by Neptune's wild and foamy jaws Swallow'd up quick! The richliest laden ship Of spicy Ternate, or that annual sent To the Philippines o'er the southern main
From Acapulco, carrying massy gold,
Were poor to this;-freighted with hopeful Youth,
And Beauty, and high Courage undismay'd
By mortal terrors, and paternal Love
Strong, and unconquerable even in death-
Alas, they perish'd all, all in one hour!
BESIDE him o'er his harp Aneurin bow'd,
The whitehair'd bard, sole faithful he, sole friend;
For minds of poets from their own high sphere
Look down on earth's distinctions, high and low,
Sunken or soaring, as the equal sun
Sheds light along the vale and mountain's brow.
He, in the hall of feasting who fast seal'd
The treasures of his harmony, now pours
Into the wounded heart his syrups sweet,
And laps it in the silken folds of sound.
But even among his strings the' infectious grief
Hath crept, and wither'd up their wantonness.
And wayward wanderings of despair belate
His fickle tones: anon bursts full and free
A start, a swell of pride, then sinks away
Involuntary to such doleful fall,
Misery so musical, its languid breath
Feeds, while it softens the deep-rooted woe.
Such melodies at tragic midnight heard
Mid a deserted city, gliding o'er
The deep green moss of tower and fane o'erthrown,
Had seem'd immortal sorrows in the air,
O'er man's inconstant grandeurs. Sad such wreck,
More sad, more worthy angel's woe, the waste
And desolation of a noble mind,
High fertile faculties run wild and rank,
Bright fiery qualities in darkness slaked.
PARENTS DESERTED BY THEIR CHILD.
MAIDEN! by Wye's transparent stream abode
An aged pair, and their declining day
One beauteous child enlighten'd, and dispensed
Soft moonlight o'er their darkening eve; they
The only pang of death from her to part. [thought
But heavy was their sinking to the grave,
For that fair beam in unchaste darkness quench'd
Its virgin lustre, and its light withdrew,
Of their old limbs the life: alone they dwelt,
In discontent and cold distaste of all,
As her ingratitude had made them sick
Of the world's hollowness, and if she fail'd,
All earthly things must needs be false and frail.
They ne'er reproach'd her, for so near the grave
They could not hate; but for her sake they loathed
Each old familiar face that once they loved.
Where she was wont to wander wander'd they;
The garden flowers she tended they bound up
With woeful care; their chill and shaking hands
Made tremulous music with her lute. I shrunk
In hoary age to see such childish joys.
They felt one after pleasure,-the same hour
They glided from their woes, their parting breath,
Blended in languid blessings on her head,
For her went suppliant to the throne of God,
Their lost Myfanwy.
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