THE SAILOR. THE Sailor sighs as sinks his native shore, Ah! now, each dear, domestic scene he knew, Recalled and cherished in a foreign clime, Charms with the magic of a moonlight view; Its colours mellowed, not impaired, by time. True as the needle, homeward points his heart, When Morn first faintly draws her silver line, Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o'er, Carved is her name in many a spicy grove, But lo, at last he comes with crowded sail! 'Tis she, 'tis she herself! she waves her hand! Soon is the anchor cast, the canvass furled; Soon thro' the whitening surge he springs to land, And clasps the maid he singled from the world. TO AN OLD OAK. TRUNK of a Giant now no more! Once did thy limbs to heaven aspire; Once, by a track untried before, Strike as resolving to explore Realms of infernal fire.* Round thee, alas, no shadows move! Yet within thee, thyself a grove, Once did the eagle scream above, And the wolf howl beneath. There once the steel-clad knight reclined, And, as the death-bell smote the wind, His brow the hero crossed! *Radice in Tartara tendit.-VIRG. Then Culture came, and days serene ; Father of many a forest deep, Soon destined o'er the world to sweep, Wont in the night of woods to dwell, And, planting there the guardian spell, Thy singed top and branches bare Now straggle in the evening-sky; And the wan moon wheels round to glare On the long corse that shivers there Of him who came to die! TO TWO SISTERS.* WELL may you sit within, and, fond of grief, Changed is that lovely countenance, which shed Light when she spoke; and kindled sweet surprise, As o'er her frame each warm emotion spread, Played round her lips, and sparkled in her eyes. Those lips so pure, that moved but to persuade, Yet has she fled the life of bliss below, *On the death of a younger sister. 26 |