Of man"!-Unfallen', religious', holy sea"!

Thou bowedst thy glorious head to none', fearedst none',
Heardst none', to none didst honour', but to God

Thy Maker', only worthy to receive

Thy great obeisance"! Undiscovered sea"!
Into thy dark', unknown', mysterious caves
And secret haunts', unfathomably deep
Beneath all visible retired', none went
And came again to tell the wonders there'.

Tremendous sea"! what time thou liftedst up
Thy waves on high', and with thy winds and storms
Strange pastime took', and shooka thy mighty sides
Indignantly', the pride of navies fell';

Beyond the arm of help', unheard', unseen',

Sunk', friend and foe', with all their wealth and war';
And on thy shores', men of a thousand tribes',
Polite and barbarous', trembling stood', amazed',
Confounded', terrified', and thought vast thoughts
Of ruin', boundlessness', omnipotence',

Infinitude', eternity'; and thought',

And wondered still', and grasped', and grasped', and grasped Again', beyond their reach', exerting all

The soul to take thy great idea in',

To comprehend incomprehensible',
And wondered more', and felt their littleness'.
Self-purifying', unpolluted sea'!

Lover unchangeable', thy faithful breast
Forever heaving to the lovely moon',
That', like a shy and holy virgin', robed

In saintly white', walked nightly in the heavens',
And to thy everlasting serenade

Gave gracious audience'; nor was wooed in vain'.
That morning', thou', that slumberedst not before',
Nor slept',a great Ocean'! laidst thy waves at rest',
And hushed thy mighty minstrelsey'. No breath
Thy deep composure stirred', no fin', nor oar';
Like beauty newly dead', so calm', so still',
So lovely', thou', beneath the light that fell
From angel-chariots', sentinelled on high',
Reposed, and listened', and saw thy living change',
Thy dead arise'.

Charybdis listened', and Scylla',
And savage Euxine on the Thracian beach',
Lay motionless': and every battle-ship
Stood still', and every ship of merchandise',
And all that sailed', of every name', stood still'.
Even as the ship of war', full-fledged' and swift',
Like some fierce bird of prey', bore on her foe',
Opposing with as fell intent', the wind

Fell withered from her wings that idly hung';
The stormy bullet', by the cannon thrown
Uncivilly against the heavenly face

Of men', half sped', sunk harmlessly', and all

*Poetick license: grammatically, didst take, didst shake, &c.

Her loud', uncircumcised', tempestuous crew',
(How ill-prepared to meet their God"!) were changed',
Unchangeable';-the pilot at the helm

Was changed, and the rough captain', while he mouthed
The huge', enormous oath. The fisherman',
That in his boat', expectant', watched his lines',
Or mended on the shore his net', and sung',
Happy in thoughtlessness', some careless air',
Heard Time depart', and felt the sudden change'.
In solitary deep', far out from land',

Or steering from the port with many a cheer',
Or while returning from long voyage', fraught
With lusty wealth', rejoicing t' have escaped

The dangerous main', and plagues of foreign climes —
The merchant quaffed his native air', refreshed',
And saw his native hills', in the sun's light',
Serenely rise'; and thought of meetings glad',
And many days of ease and honour' spent
Among his friends'-unwarned man'; even then
The knell of Time broke on his revery',
And', in the twinkling of an eye', his hopes',
All earthly', perished all': as sudden rose',
From out their watery beds', the Ocean's dead',
Renewed', and on the unstirring billows stood',
From pole to pole', thick covering all the sea-
Of every nation blent', and every age'.

Wherever slept one grain of human dust',
Essential organ of a human soul',
Wherever tossed', obedient to the call
Of God's omnipotence', it hurried on
To meet its fellow particles', revived',
Rebuilt', in union indestructible'.

No atom of his spoils remained to death'.
From his strong arm', by stronger arm released',
Immortal now in soul and body both',

Beyond his reach', stood all the sons of men',
And saw', behind', his valley lie', unfeared'.

SECTION XXII.

Address to the Ocean.-BYRON.

On'! that the desert were my dwelling place',
With one fair spirit for my minister',
That I might all forget the human race',
And', hating no one', love but only her!!
Ye elements!-in whose ennobling stir'
I feel myself exalted-Can ye not'
Accord me such a being? Do I err'
In deeming such inhabit many a spot'?
Though', with them to converse', can rarely be our lot'.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods',
There is a rapture on the lonely shore',
There is'.. society', where none intrudes',
By the deep sea', and musick in its roar':
I love not man the less', but naturea more',
From these our interviews', in which I steal'
From all I may be', or have been before',
To mingle with the universe', and feel'
What I can ne'erb express', yet cannot all conceal'.

Roll on', thou deep and dark-blue ocean'-rôll'!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain';
Man marks the earth with ruin';—his control'
Stops with the shore';-upon the watery plain'
The wrecks are all thy deed', nor doth remain'
A shadow of man's ravage', save his own',
When', for a moment',d like a drop of rain',
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan',
Without a grave', unknelled', uncoffined', and unknown'.

His steps are not upon thy paths';-thy fields'
Are not a spoil for him';-thou doste arise'

And shake him from thee';-the vile strength he wields'
For earth's destruction', thou doste all DESPISE',
Spurning him'... from thy bosom to the skies',
And sendst him', shivering', in thy playful spray',
And howling to his gods', where haply lies'
His petty hope', in some near port or bay',

And dashest him again to earth':—there let him lay'!

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls'
Of rock-built cities', bidding nations quake',
And monarchs tremble in their capitals'—
The oak leviathans', whose huge ribs make'
Their clay creator the vain title take'
Of lord of thee', and arbiter of war';
These are thy Tôrs', and', as the snowy flake',
They melt into thy yest of waves', which mar',
Alike', the Armada's pride', or spoils of Trafalgar.'s

Thy shores are empires', changed in all save thee'—
Assyria', Greece', Rome', Carthage', what are they'?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free',
And many a tyrant since'; their shores obey'
The stranger', slave', or savage'; their decay'
Has dried up realms to deserts':-not so thou',
Unchangeable', save to thy wild waves' play'—
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azureh brow'—
Such'.. as creation's dawn beheld', thou rollest now'.

Thou glorious mirror', where the Almighty's form'
Glasses itself in tempests'; in all time',

Nå'tshire. Nåre. Důth. Mo'mènt. Důst. 'Lie. Tråfál-går. bà zhure.

Calm or convulsed-in breeze', or gale', or storm',
Icing the pole', or in the torrid clime'
Dark-heaving'; boundless', endless', and sublime'—
The image of eternity-the throne'

Of the Invisible'; even from out thy slime'
The monsters of the deep are made'; each zone'
Obeys thee'; thou goest forth'.. dread'... fathomless'

And I have loved thee', Ocean'! and my joy'
Of youthful sports', was'.. on thy breast to be'
Borne', like thy bubbles', onward': from a boy'
I wantoned with thy breakers': they to me'
Were a delight'; and if the freshening sea'
Made them a terrour', 'twas a pleasing fear',
For I was', as it were', a child of thee',
And trusted to thy billows far and near',
And laid my hand upon thy mane'—as I do here'.

...

My task is done'-my song hath ceased'-my theme'
Has died into an echo': it is fit'

The spell should break of this protracted dream'.
The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit'
My midnight lamp'-and'.. what is writ', is writ..
Would it were worthier'! but I am not now'
That which I have been'—and my visions flit'
Less palpably before me-and the glow
Which' in my spirit dwelt', is fluttering',

Wêr. Written.

alone

faint',.... and low'

CHAPTER III.

PROMISCUOUS PIECES.

SECTION I.

Colloquial Powers of Dr. Franklin.-WIRT.

NEVER have I known such a fireside companion'. Great as he was', both as a statesman and a philosopher', he never shone in a light more winning than when he was seen in a domestick circle'. It was once my good fortune to pass two or three weeks with him', at the house of a private gentleman', in the back part of Pennsylvania'; and we were confined to the house during the whole of that time', by the unintermitting constancy and depth of the snows'. But confinement could never be felt where Franklin was an inmate'. His cheerfulness and his colloquial powers spread around him a perpetual spring'. When I speak', however', of his colloquial powers', I do not mean to awaken any notion analogous to that which Boswell has given us when he so frequently mentions the colloquial powers of Dr. Johnson'. The conversation of the latter continually reminds one of "the pomp and circumstance of glorious war'.' "It was', indeed', a perpetual contest for victory', or an arbitrary and despotick exaction of homage to his superiour talents'. It was strong', acute', prompt', splendid', and vociferous'; as loud', stormy, and sublime' as those winds which he represents as shaking the Hebrides', and rocking the old castles that frowned upon the dark-rolling sea beneath'. But one gets tired of storms', however sublime they may be', and longs for the more orderly current of nature'.—Of Franklin', no one ever became tired'. There was no ambition of eloquence', no effort to shine', in any thing which came from him'. There was nothing which made any demand either upon your allegiance' or your admiration'.

His manner was as unaffected as infancy'. It was nature's self'. He talked like an old patriarch'; and his plainness and simplicity put you', at once', at your ease', and gave you the full and free possession and use of all your faculties'.

His thoughts were of a character to shine by their own light',

*States'mån—not, states'mun. Jên'tl'mân. ©Hôm'åje. ¿El'ò'kwènse -not, el'o'kwunse. På'trè 'årk.