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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 run a-ground as he was bear, ing 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
's prayer,

X

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 smil'd,
As rose the kindling day;
Through ocean's mirror, dark and clear,
Reflected skies and clouds appear
In morning's rich array;

The land is lost, the waters glow,
'Tis heaven above, around, below.

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 riv'n with many a scar;

Oft had her oaks their tribute brought,
To rib its flanks, with thunder fraught ;
But late her evil star

Had curs'd 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!

Thus 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 light'nings 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.

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 furl'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.

The Spirit of the Cape* pursu'd
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 light'nings play:
The abyss recoil'd before the blast,
Firm stood the seaman till the last.

* The Cape of Good Hope, formerly called the Cape of Storms. See Camoen's Lusiad, book V.

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.

There are to whom that ship was dear,

For love and kindred's sake;

When these the voice of Rumour hear,
Their inmost heart shall quake,
Shall doubt, and fear, and wish, and grieve,
Believe, and long to unbelieve,

But never cease to ache;

Still doom'd, in sad suspense, to bear
The hope that keeps alive despair.

THE SEQUEL.

MONTGOMERY.·

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 were 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.

TO DELIA.

SHERIDAN.

DRIED be that tear, my gentlest love!
Be hush'd that struggling sigh,
Not season's day, nor fate shall prove
More fix'd, more true than I!

Hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear;
Cease boding doubt, cease anxious fear.

Dost ask how long my vows shall stay,
When all that's new is past?-
How long, my Delia! can I say
How long my life will last?.

Dried be that tear, be hush'd that sigh,
At least I'll love thee till I die.

And does that thought affect thee too,
The thought of Sylvio's death;
That he who only breathes for you
Must yield that faithful breath?
Hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear,
Nor let us lose our heaven while here!

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