RUFUS DAWES.-JONATHAN LAWRENCE.

He stood the tempest fell asleep-
The hurricane passed o'er,--
His arms that keep the mighty deep
Showed mercy, and forbore!

RUFUS DAWES.

409

137. LOOK ALOFT.

In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail,—
f thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart,—
* Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart.

If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow,
With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe,
Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed,
"Look aloft," to the friendship which never shall fade.
Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye,
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly,-
Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret,
"Look aloft" to the sun that is never to set.

Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart,—
Thy relations and friends-in sorrow depart,-
"Look aloft," from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To that soil where affection is ever in bloom.

And oh, when Death comes, in terrors, to cast
His fears on the future, his pall on the past,—
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,
And a smile in thine eye, “look aloft," and depart.

JONATHAN LAWRENCE.

138. THE OCEAN.

O THOU, vast Ocean! ever-sounding Sea!
Thou symbol of a dread immensity!
Thou thing that windest round the solid world
Like a huge animal, which downward hurled
From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone,
Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone!
Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep

Is as a giant's slumber, loud and deep.
Thou speakest in the east and in the west
At once, and on thy heavily laden breast
Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life
Or motion, yet are moved, and meet in strife.

The earth hath naught of this: no chance nor change
Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare

Give answer to the tempest-waken air;
But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range
At will, and wound its bosom as they go.
Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow;
But to their stated rounds the seasons come,
And pass, like visions, to their viewless home,
And come again and vanish; the young spring
Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming,
And winter always winds his sullen horn
When the wild autumn, with a look forlorn,
Dies in his stormy manhood; and the skies
Weep, and flowers sicken when the summer flies.

Thou only, terrible Ocean! hast a power,
A will, a voice, and in thy wrathful hour,
When thou dost lift thine anger to the clouds,
A fearful and magnificent beauty shrouds

Thy broad, green forehead. If thy waves be driven
Backwards and forwards, by the shifting wind,
How quickly dost thou thy great strength unbind,
And stretch thine arms, and war at once with heaven!

Thou trackless and immeasurable Main!

On thee no record ever lived again

To meet the hand that writ it: line nor lead
Hath ever fathomed thy profoundest deeps,
Where, haply, the huge monster swells and sleeps,
King of his watery limit, who, 'tis said,
Can move the mighty Ocean into storm-
Oh! wonderful thou art, great element;
And fearful in thy spleeny humors bent,
And lovely in repose: thy summer form
Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves
Make music in earth's dark and winding caves,
I love to wander on thy pebbled beach
Marking the sunlight at the evening hour,

And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach—

Eternity, eternity, and power."

BARRY CORNWALL.

THE storm had ceased-its wrath had rent
The icy wall asunder;

And many a piercing glance they sent
Around in awe and wonder;

And sailor hearts their rude praise gave
To God, that morn, from o'er the wave.
But lo!-still further off appears

A form more dim and dark;
And anxious eyes, and hopes, and fears,
Its slow, strange progress mark;
As it moves towards them by the breeze
Borne onward from more northern seas.

Near, and more near-and can it be
(More vent'rous than their own)
A ship, whose seeming ghost they see
Among those icebergs thrown;
With broken masts, dismantled all,
And dark sails, like a funeral pall?

"God of the Mariner! protect

Her inmates as she moves along Through perils which, ere now, had wreckedBut that thine arm is strong."

Ha! she has struck-she grounds—she stands Still as if held by giant hands.

Quick, man the boat!"-away they sprang, The stranger ship to aid;

And loud their hailing voices rang,

And rapid speed they made;

But all in silence, deep, unbroke,

The vessel stood-none answering spoke.

'Twas fearful: not a sound aroseNo moving thing was there

To interrupt the dread repose

Which filled each heart with fear.

On deck they silent stepped, and sought,-
Till one, a man, their sad sight caught.

He was alone: the damp, chill mold

Of years hung on his cheek;

A pen in his hand had meekly told
The tale no voice might speak:

66

Seventy days," the record stood,

Had they been in the ice, and wanted food."

They took his book, and turned away,

But soon discovered where

The wife, in her death-sleep, gently lay,
Near him, in life most dear:

Who, seated beside his young heart's pride,
Long years before had calmly died.

There was a solemn, sacred feeling
Kindled in every breast;
And softly from the cabin stealing,
They left them to their rest-
The fair, the young, the constant pair,
They left them with a blessing there;
And to their boat returning, each

With thoughtful brows and haste,
And o'ercharged hearts, too full for speech,
Left 'midst the frozen waste

That Charnel Ship, which years before
Had sailed from distant Albion's shore.

They left her in the icebergs, where
Few venture to intrude:

A monument of death and fear,

'Mid ocean's solitude!

And, grateful for their own release,

Thanked God, and sought their homes in peace.

ANONYMOUS

140. THE PHANTOM SHIP.

THE breeze had sunk to rest,
The noonday sun was high,
And ocean's breast lay motionless
Beneath a cloudless sky.

There was silence in the air,

There was silence in the deep;

And it seemed as though that burning calm

Were nature's final sleep.

The mid-day watch was set,
Beneath the blaze of light,

When there came a cry from the tall mast-head,
A sail! a sail, in sight!

And o'er the far horizon

A snowy speck appeared,

And every eye was strained to watch

The vessel as she neared.

There was no breath of air,

Yet she bounded on her way,
And the dancing waves around her prow
Were flashing into spray.

She answered not their hail,

Alongside as she passed;

There were none who trod her spacious deck,
Not a seaman on the mast:

No hand to guide her helm ;
Yet on she held her course;
She swept along that waveless sea,
As with a tempest's force;
A silence, as of death,

Was o'er that vessel spread :
She seemed a thing of another world,
The world where dwell the dead.

She passed away from sight,

The deadly calm was o'er,

And the spell-bound ship pursued her course

Before the breeze once more;

And clouds across the sky

Obscured the noonday sun,

And the winds arose at the tempest's call,

Before the day was done.

Midnight, and still the storm

Raged wrathfully and loud,

And deep in the trough of the heaving sea
Labored that vessel proud:

There was darkness all around,

Save where lightning flashes keen Played on the crests of the broken waves, And lit the depths between.