Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life
Or motion, yet are moved and meet in strife.

The earth hath nought of this; nor 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 his bosom as they go.
Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow;
But in their stated round 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,
And the wild autumn with a look forlorn
Dies in his stormy manhood; and the skies
Weep and flowers sicken when the summer flies.
Oh! wonderful thou art, great element;
And fearful in thy spleeny humours 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 ship sailed very fast, and with the exception of taking au occasional reef in the topsails, we had little to do but look about us for a few days, and enjoy ourselves talking over shore scenes, all the time steering about S.S.E. When so far as the latitude of 45° N., it began to look dark to the northward and westward, and the quicksilver in the barometer fell several degrees. We prepared to receive the visitor in the usual manner-that is, by making everything aloft all snug, tricing up the boats, and otherwise well securing them (for boats are things which are well taken care of always); and though last, not least to be despised, all the delft' and glass are stowed comfortably away, and tin-ware put in their places. Being now perfectly ready for

MARITIME ADVENTURE.

239

the dark-looking gentleman to windward, coming fast down after us, the breeze died away, until the ship had scarcely steerage way on her.

After a little the air felt cooler, the wind freshened up, and blew from the northward-another hand was added to assist in steering. On the gale came with a roaring sound, the ship kept right before it. main-topsail, and the ship fairly hissing through it; the wind We were now steering under a close-reefed forced the swell fairly down, the clouds cleared away, could be seen but one bed of foam. There was a description of the sea then given, in a very few words, which I have not since and nothing forgotten :-"This is the old wash-tub, with the suds all on the top." Such are sailors that, amidst the war of elements which surrounds them, and often threatens them with instantly being engulphed, they will have their joke out. Now no one could hear the other speak, such was the force of the storm. could feel the ship almost lifted along. The scene was grand; no pen could describe it; the power of the great Creator's breath You was on the water, and man was nothing.

The surface of the water was blown up into mist like spray, which rose from the foam, as it were, like dust, to the height of several feet, and was forced along before and around us. we went, like something carried along by an invisible power, over which man has no control. The wild but beautiful scene On, on appeared unearthly; there was something enchanting in watching the swift and silent passage of the vessel through this, as it were, hissing snow.

To the non-nautical reader, I may here remark that the running of a ship before the wind creates both a different motion and noise in the ship, than one hove to, or running with the wind abeam. The violence of the storm was now so great that any sound or noise we could make on board was inaudible from the roaring of the wind and foaming of the sea around us. ship seemed to have life, and bounded away from every threatening wave. The

This being the first time we had an opportunity to run before the wind, or try our new ship's qualities in scudding-in fact, we had no alternative, for the storm was too strong to attempt to round the ship to, we would have gone down in an instantthere were relieving tackles rove, lest the wheel-ropes should part; and as we had nothing but a clear sea before us, every one watched closely the ship's actions, on her new and first trial in this way. The old seamen looked excited and pleased; the younger ones at last felt so much delighted with the ship, that they danced and waved their clear arm (for one held on), and

appeared like madmen. During the night, which was pitch dark, the phosphorescent appearance of the water illumined everything. It seemed then as if the wand of enchantment had changed the water into boiling fire, and that we were rushing through it. Throughout the gale, the ship required the most careful steering; but there was every pleasure with her, she steered so easily and beautifully; none, of course, but the most experienced hands were sent to relieve the wheel. This trial stamped her down, in the minds of all, as being a "jewel of a ship." When the wind began to decrease, the sea began to rise very high: then the rolling motion was very unpleasant; but what compensated for that was, we lessened our latitude some hundred miles, and got a quick passage into fine weather.-COULTER's Adventures in the Pacific.'

1. Delft, earthen ware covered with China ware or porcelain, made at Delft, enamel or white glazing, in imitation of in Holland.

GRACE DARLING.

ALL night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused,
When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air,

Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf,

Beating on one of those disastrous isles-
Half of a vessel, half-no more; the rest

Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there
Had for the common safety striven in vain,

Or thither thronged for refuge. With quick glance,
Daughter and sire through optic-glass discern,
Clinging about the remnant of this ship,
Creatures-how precious in the maiden's sight?
For whom, belike, the old man grieves still more
Than for their fellow-sufferers engulphed
Where every parting agony is hushed,
And hope and fear mix not in further strife.
"But courage, Father! let us out to sea-

A few may yet be saved." The Daughter's words,
Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith,
Dispel the Father's doubts; nor do they lack
The noble-minded Mother's helping hand

To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheered,
And inwardly sustained by silent prayer,
Together they put forth, Father and Child!
Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they go-
Rivals in effort; and, alike intent

Here to elude and there surmount, they watch

The billows lengthening, mutually crossed,
And shattered, and re-gathering their might ;
As if the tumult, by the Almighty's will
Were, in the conscious sea, roused and prolonged,
That woman's fortitude-so tried, so proved-
May brighten more and more!

True to the mark,

They stem the current of that perilous gorge,

Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart,
Though danger, as the Wreck is neared, becomes

More imminent. Not unseen do they approach;
And rapture, with varieties of fear
Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames
Of those who, in that dauntless energy,
Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturbed
Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives
That of the pair-tossed on the waves to bring
Hope to the hopeless, to the dying life-
One is a woman, a poor earthly sister;
Or be the visitant other than she seems,
A Guardian Spirit sent from pitying Heaven
In woman's shape? But why prolong the tale,
Casting weak words amid a host of thoughts
Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced
And difficulty mastered, with resolve

That no one breathing should be left to perish,
This last remainder of the crew are all
Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep
Are safely borne, landed upon the beach,
And, in fulfilment of God's mercy, lodged

Within the sheltering Lighthouse.-Shout, ye Waves,
Send forth a song of triumph. Waves and Winds,
Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith
In Him whose Providence your rage hath served!
Ye screaming sea-mews, in the concert join!
And would that some immortal Voice-a Voice
Fitly attuned to all that gratitude

Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips
Of the survivors-to the clouds might bear-

Blended with praise of that parental love,

Beneath whose watchful eye the Maiden grew

Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave,

Though young so wise, though meek so resolute

Might carry to the clouds and to the stars,

Yea, to celestial choirs, Grace Darling's name!-WORDSWORTH.

P

THE death of King John was a happy event for the nation, though he left a child of nine years old to succeed him. In most of the barons, who so often combined against him, there had been far more of personal animosity than of principle, more, perhaps, even than of personal views. But a child was an object of compassion; and they who already repented of having called in a foreign enemy were no longer withheld by hatred or by shame from following their English feelings, and taking the better part. Louis's tide of fortune began to ebb, when a force of 300 knights, with a great body of soldiers, embarked at Calais for his support, in a fleet consisting of eighty great ships and many smaller vessels, commanded by Eustace, the monk. This man, who was a Fleming by birth, had left his monastery to enjoy a patrimony which fell to him by the death of his brothers; that patrimony he appears to have dissipated; afterwards "he became a notable pirate, and had done in his days much mischief to the Englishmen."

With

The English Government received timely intelligence of this expected succour to the enemy; and accordingly Philip de Albany and John Marshal were appointed to collect the power of the Cinque Ports,' and guard the seas against them. the aid of Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent, then residing in the Castle of Dover, they had not yet mustered more than forty vessels, great and small, on St. Bartholomew's day, when the French sailed, meaning to go up the Thames and make for London. Not deterred by the inferiority of their forces, the English commanders put to sea, and encountered them; then gained the weather-gauge, and, "by tilting at them with the iron beaks of their galleys, sunk several of the transports with all on board. They availed themselves of the wind also to try, with success, a new and singular mode of annoyance; for, having provided a number of vessels on their decks, filled with unslacked lime, and pouring water into them when they were at just distance, and in a favourable position, the smoke was driven into the enemies' faces," so as to disable them from defending themselves, while the archers and cross-bowmen aimed their destructive weapons with dreadful effect.