Oh heart effusions, that arose

From nightly wanderings cherish'd here;

To him who flies from many woes,

Even homeless deserts can be dear!

The last and solitary cheer

Of those that own no earthly home,

Say—is it not, ye

banish'd race,

In such a loved and lonely place Companionless to roam?

Yes! I have loved thy wild abode,

Unknown, unplough'd, untrodden shore; Where scarce the woodman finds a road, And scarce the fisher plies an oar; For man's neglect I love thee more; That art nor avarice intrude

To tame thy torrent's thunder-shock, Or prune thy vintage of the rock Magnificently rude.

Unheeded spreads thy blossom❜d bud
Its milky bosom to the bee;
Unheeded falls along the flood
Thy desolate and aged tree.
Forsaken scene, how like to thee

The fate of unbefriended Worth!

Like thine her fruit dishonour'd falls;
Like thee in solitude she calls

A thousand treasures forth.

Oh! silent spirit of the place,
If, lingering with the ruin'd year,
Thy hoary form and awful face

I yet might watch and worship here!
Thy storm were music to mine ear,
Thy wildest walk a shelter given

Sublimer thoughts on earth to find, And share, with no unhallow'd mind, The majesty of heaven.

What though the bosom friends of Fate,

Prosperity's unweaned brood,

Thy consolations cannot rate,

O self-dependent solitude!
Yet with a spirit unsubdued,

Though darken'd by the clouds of Care,
To worship thy congenial gloom,
A pilgrim to the Prophet's tomb
The Friendless shall repair.

On him the world hath never smiled
Or look'd but with accusing eye ;—
All-silent goddess of the wild,

To thee that misanthrope shall fly!
I hear his deep soliloquy,

I mark his proud but ravaged form,
As stern he wraps his mantle round,
And bids, on winter's bleakest ground,
Defiance to the storm.

Peace to his banish'd heart, at last,
In thy dominions shall descend,
And, strong as beechwood in the blast,
His spirit shall refuse to bend;
Enduring life without a friend,
The world and falsehood left behind,
Thy votary shall bear elate,
(Triumphant o'er opposing Fate,)
His dark inspired mind.

But dost thou, Folly, mock the Muse
A wanderer's mountain walk to sing,
Who shuns a warring world, nor woos
The vulture cover of its wing?

Then fly, thou cowering, shivering thing,
Back to the fostering world beguiled,
To waste in self-consuming strife
The loveless brotherhood of life,
Reviling and reviled!

Away, thou lover of the race

That hither chased yon weeping deer!

If Nature's all majestic face

More pitiless than man's appear;
Or if the wild winds seem more drear
Than man's cold charities below,
Behold around his peopled plains,
Where'er the social savage reigns,
Exuberance of woe!

His art and honours wouldst thou seek
Emboss'd on grandeur's giant walls?
Or hear his moral thunders speak

Where senates light their airy halls,
Where man his brother man enthralls;
Or sends his whirlwind warrant forth
To rouse the slumbering fiends of war,
To dye the blood-warm waves afar,
And desolate the earth?

From clime to clime pursue the scene,
And mark in all thy spacious way,
Where'er the tyrant man has been,
There Peace, the cherub, cannot stay;
In wilds and woodlands far away
She builds her solitary bower,

Where only anchorites have trod,
Or friendless men, to worship God,
Have wander'd for an hour.

In such a far forsaken vale,

And such, sweet Eldurn vale, is thine,Afflicted nature shall inhale

Heaven-borrow'd thoughts and joys divine; No longer wish, no more repine For man's neglect or woman's scorn ;— Then wed thee to an exile's lot,

For if the world hath loved thee not,

Its absence may be borne.

THE DEATH-BOAT OF HELIGOLAND.

CAN restlessness reach the cold sepulchred

head?—

Ay, the quick have their sleep-walkers, so have the dead.

There are brains, though they moulder, that dream in the tomb,

And that maddening forehear the last trumpet of doom,

Till their corses start sheeted to revel on earth, Making horror more deep by the semblance of

mirth :

By the glare of new-lighted volcanoes they dance, Or at mid-sea appall the chill'd mariner's glance. Such, I wot, was the band of cadaverous smile Seen ploughing the night-surge of Heligo's isle.

The foam of the Baltic had sparkled like fire, And the red moon look'd down with an aspect of ire;

But her beams on a sudden grew sick-like and

gray,

And the mews that had slept clang'd and shriek'd

far away