west

The orange sky of evening died away.
Not seldom from the uproar I retired
Into a silent bay, or sportively
Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous
throng

To cut across the reflex of a star
That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed
Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes,
When we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks on either side
Came sweeping through the darkness, spin-
ning still

The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me, even as if the earth had
rolled

With visible motion her diurnal round.

Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.

On the fierce foaming, bursting tide,
When every mad wave drowns the moon
Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,
And why the sou'-west blasts do blow.

I never was on the dull tame shore
But I loved the great sea more and more,
And backward flew to her billowy breast
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
And a mother she was, and is, to me,
For I was born on the open sea.

The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
And the whale it whistled, the porpoise
rolled,

And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outery wild
As welcomed to life the ocean-child.

IF

THE CHOICE.

F Heaven the grateful liberty would give

That I might choose my method how to live,

For sure no minutes bring us more con

tent

Than those in pleasing useful studies spent.

I'd have a clear and competent estate,

lend

In blissful ease and satisfaction spend,
Near some fair town I'd have a private seat,
Built uniform-not little nor too great;
Better if on a rising ground it stood,
On this side fields, on that a neighboring

wood.

It should within no other things contain.
But what are useful, necessary, plain;
Methinks 'tis nauseous, and I'd ne'er endure,
The needless pomp of gaudy furniture;
A little garden grateful to the eye,
And a cool rivulet run murmuring by,
On whose delicious banks a stately row
Of shady limes or sycamores should grow,
At th' end of which a silent study placed
Should be with all the noblest authors graced-
Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines
Immortal wit and solid learning shines;
Sharp Juvenal, and amorous Ovid too,
Who all the turns of love's soft passion

As much as I could moderately spend-
A little more, sometimes t'oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine
Too much at fortune: they should taste of
mine;

And all that objects of true pity were
Should be relieved with what my wants could

less flake.

'Yet such the destiny of all on earthSo flourishes and fades majestic Man:

Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth,

And fostering gales a while the nursling fan.

Oh, smile, ye heavens serene! ye mildews

wan,

Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime,

Nor lessen of his life the little span ! Borne on the swift though silent wings of Time,

Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.

"And be it so. Let those deplore their

doom

Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn;

But lofty souls who look beyond the

tomb

Can smile at fate and wonder how they

mourn.

Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return?

Is yonder wave the Sun's eternal bed? Soon shall the Orient with new lustre burn,

And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed,

Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.

"Shall I be left forgotten in the dust

When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive?

No! Heaven's immortal springs shall yet arrive,

And man's majestic beauty bloom again, Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign."

This truth sublime his simple sire had taught:

In sooth, 'twas almost all the shepherd knew ;

No subtle or superfluous lore he sought, Nor ever wished his Edwin to pursue. "Let man's own sphere," said he, "confine his view;

Be man's peculiar work his sole delight." And much and oft he warned him to eschew

Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right,

By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might.

"And from the prayer of Want and plaint of Woe,

Oh, never, never turn away thine ear!
Forlorn in this bleak wilderness below,
Ah! what were man should Heaven refuse
to hear?

To others do-the law is not severe-
What to thyself thou wishest to be done;
Forgive thy foes and love thy parents
dear,

And friends and native land; nor those alone :

Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to

live?

Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive With disappointment, penury and pain?

thine own.

"Nor be thy generous indignation checked, Nor checked the tender tear to Misery

given;