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Not long beneath the whelming brine
Expert to swim, he lay ;
Or courage die away ;
To check the vessel's course,
That, pitiless perforce,
And, such as storms allow,
Delayed not to bestow.
Their haste himself condemn,
Alone could rescue them ;
In ocean, self-upheld :
His destiny repelled :
At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Could catch the sound no more : For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. No poet wept him : but the page
Of narrative sincere,
Is wet with Anson's tear :
Descanting on his fate,
A more enduring date ;
No light propitious shone,
We perished each alone; But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.
TO MRS. UNWIN.
The twentieth year is well nigh past,
Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
Thy needles, once a shining store,
The same kind office for me still,
Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light,
For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I sec ? The sun would rise in vain for me,
- My Mary'
Partakers of thy sad decline,
Such' feebleness of limbs thou prov'st, That now at every step thou mov'st Upheld by two; yet still thou lov'st,
And still to love, though prest with ill,
But ah! by constant heed I know, • How oft thi sadness that I show,
And should my future lot be cast, With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last,
TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON.
Those rocks, I too have seen ; But I, afflicted and dismayed,
You, tranquil and serene.
You, from the flood-controlling steep, .
Saw stretched before your view,
No longer such to you.
To me, the waves that ceaseless broke
Upon the dangerous coast, Hoarsely and ominously spoke,
Of all my treasure lost.
Your sea of troubles you have passed,
And found the peaceful shore; I, tempest-tossed and wrecked at last,
Come home to pori no more.