Sent from the shores of light the MUSES came

The dark and solitary race to tame,

The war of lawless Passions to controul,

To melt in tender sympathy the soul;

The heart's remote recesses to explore,
And touch its springs when Prose availed no more:
The kindling spirit caught th' empyreal ray,

And glowed congenial with the swelling lay;
Roused from the chaos of primeval Night,
At once fair Truth and Reason sprung to light.
When great MEONIDES, in rapid Song,
The thundering tide of Battle rolls along,
Each ravished bosom feels the high alarms,
And all the burning pulses beat to arms;
Hence, War's terrific glory to display,
Became the theme of every epic lay:

But when his strings with mournful magic tell

What dire distress LAERTES' Son befel,

The strains meand'ring through the maze of woe

Bid sacred sympathy the heart o'erflow;

Far through the boundless realms of Thought he springs, From earth upborne on Pegasean wings,

While distant Poets, trembling as they view
His sunward flight, the dazzling track pursue;
His magic voice that rouses and delights,
Allures and guides to climb Olympian Heights:
But I, alas! through scenes bewildered stray,
Far from the light of his unerring ray;

While, all unused the wayward path to tread,
Darkling I wander with prophetic dread;
To me in vain the bold Mæonian lyre
Awakes the numbers fraught with living fire;
Full oft indeed that Mournful Harp of yore
Wept the sad Wanderer lost upon the shore;
"Tis true he lightly sketched the bold design,
But Toils more joyless, more severe are mine;
Since o'er that scene his Genius swiftly ran,
Subservient only to a nobler plan :

But I, perplexed in labyrinths of Art,
Anatomize, and blazon every part;

Attempt with plaintive numbers to display,
And chain th' Events in regular array ;

Though hard the task to sing in varied strains,

When still unchanged the same sad Theme remains :

O could it draw Compassion's melting tear
For kindred miseries, oft beheld too near !
For kindred wretches, oft in ruin cast

On ALBION's Strand beneath the wintery blast;
For all the pangs, the complicated woe,
Her bravest sons, her guardian Sailors know;
Then every breast should sigh at our distress-
This were the summit of my hoped success!
For this, my Theme through mazes I pursue,
Which nor MEONIDES, nor MARO knew.

II. Awhile the Mast, in ruins dragged behind,
Balanced th' impression of the helm and wind;
The wounded Serpent, agonized with pain,
Thus trails his mangled volume on the plain :
the wreck dissevered from the rear,

But now,
The long reluctant Prow began to veer:

While round before th' enlarging wind it falls,

"Square fore and aft the Yards," the Master calls:

"You Timoneers her motion still attend,

"For on your steerage all our lives depend:

"So, steady! meet her! watch the curving Prow,

"And from the Gale directly let her go."

"Starboard again !" the watchful Pilot cries,
"Starboard!" th' obedient Timoneer replies:
Then back to port, revolving at command,
The wheel rolls swiftly through each glowing hand.
The Ship no longer, foundering by the lee,
Bears on her side the invasions of the sea;
All lonely o'er the desert waste she flies,
Scourged on by surges, storms, and bursting Skies:
As when enclosing Harponeers assail

In Hyperborean Seas the slumb'ring Whale,
Soon as their javelins pierce his scaly side,
He groans, he darts impetuous down the tide ;
And racked all o'er with lacerating pain,

He flies remote beneath the flood in vain-
So with resistless haste the wounded Ship
Scuds from pursuing waves along the deep;
While, dashed apart by her dividing prow,
Like burning adamant the waters glow;

Her joints forget their firm elastic tone,
Her long keel trembles, and her timbers groan:
Upheaved behind her in tremendous height

The billows frown, with fearful radiance bright:

Now quivering o'er the topmost wave she rides,
While deep beneath th' enormous gulf divides;
Now launching headlong down the horrid vale,
Becalmed, she hears no more the howling Gale;
Till up the dreadful height again she flies,
Trembling beneath the current of the skies:
As that rebellious Angel, who, from heaven,
To regions of eternal pain was driven,
When dreadless he forsook the Stygian shore
The distant realms of EDEN to explore;
Here, on sulphureous Clouds sublime upheaved,
With daring wing th' infernal air he cleaved;
There, in some hideous gulf descending prone,
Far in the void abrupt of Night was known-
E'en so she climbs the briny mountain's height,
Then down the black abyss precipitates her flight:
The Masts, about whose tops the whirlwinds sing,
With long vibration round her axle swing.

To guide her wayward Course amid the gloom,
The watchful Pilots different posts assume:
ALBERT and RODMOND on the Poop appear,
There to direct each guiding Timoneer;