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TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE.
" A prudent wife is from the Lord.”
BLEST be the day which crowns that mutual love,
Vuerring Wisdom first ordaiu'd above. What native instinct, or exterior charms, First rais'd the tumult of love's soft alarms? What sweet inducement laught the breast to move, The soul to languish, and the heart to love ? 'Twas winning piety and sense conjoin'd, That spoke the innate beauties of the mind : Cementing Friendship lent her gentle aid, And crowu'd the happy choice that prudence made : Spontaneous efforts fann'd the mutual fire, And grace inberent sanctify'd desire. May heav'n propitious bless you
from above, And crown with many a pledge your mutual love, The father's virtues in the boys be found, The mother's graces in the girls abound: Maria's charms include whate'er we know, Can-heighten joy, or soften care below; Her sweet converse shall soothe thy future hours, And strew the rugged path of life with flow'rs; Thy constant bliss shall all her care employ, And her bright viriue teach thee how to die ! Her gentle hand support thy drooping head, When all the joys of human life are fed.
The great first Cause, the Sire of heav'n and earth, Who gave all animated being birth,
Saw Adam solitary-saw him grieve,
If love and harmony you would preserve,
Your setting sun, when life's sport day is o'er,
THE CHRISTIAN ADDRESSED BY HIS WATCH.
BELIEVER, when beholding me,
An emblem of thyself here see!
So Christian, let thy inward light
EPITAPH ON SAMUEL LOVE, A. M. IN BRISTOL CATHEDRAL.
WHEN worthless grandeur decks th' embellished urn,
No poignant grief attends the sable bier,
Deep is the sorrow, genuine the tear.
Stranger! shouldst thou approach this awful shrine,
The merits of the honour'd dead to seek,
Let those who knew him, those who lov'd him, speak.
Oh! let them in some pause from anguish say,
What zeal inspir’d, what faith enlarg'd his breast,
From earıh to heav'n, from blessing to be blest!
our former observations it is evident, that both the earth and the sea appear to be in a state of continual change. The earth is the cominon storehouse that supplies continual subsistence to men, animals, and vegetables. But the matter which is thus derived from it is soon restored again, and laid down to be prepared for fresh mutations.
The transmigration of souls, an ancient doctrine, which at this day prevails much in the East, is doubtless false and whimsical; but puthing can be more certain than the transmigration of bodies. The spoils of a savage bcast, or of the most contemptible reptile, may go towards the formation of the greatest king; and, on the contrary, as, Shakespear obseryes, particles of the body of Cæsar may be employed in stopping a beer-barrel.
Changes are daily taking place in all animated nature, besides which, the internal tires of the earth, the «leviation of its rivers, the falling of its mountains, and the filling up of its yallies, are daily altering its surface; 50 that modern geography cannot, oftent mes, recognize the rocks, the hills, and vallies which history once described.
But the changes which happen upon the surface of the earth, are generally slow and gradual in their progress. On the contrary, those of the sea are so rapid, violent, and perpetual, that inquietude seems as natural to its waters as fluidity itself is.
As the ocean is continually changing, and labouring internally, it may be presumed that it produces great changes upon
those of the earth which are most subject to its influence, particularly upon its shores. And this is indeed the fact, for it is perpetually making considerable alterations
eri ing its shores in one place, or deserting them in another : by covering over whole tracts of country, that were cultivate
and peopled, at one time, or by leaving its bed to be appropriated to the purposes of vegetation, and to supply a new theatre for human industry at another.
In this struggle betwixt the earth and sea for dominion, the greatest number of our shores seem to defy all the rage of the waves, both by their height, and the rocky materials of which they are composed The coast of Italy for instance, are bordered with rocks of marble of different kinds, the quarries of which may easily be distinguished at a distance from the sea, and appear like perpendicular columns of the must beautiful kinds of inarble, ranged along the shore. la general, the coasts of France, from Brest to Bourdeaux, are composed of rocks; as are those of Spain and England, which defend the land, and only are interrupted here and there to give an egress to rivers, and to grant the conveniences of bays and harbours to our shipping. It may be in general remarked, that wherever the sea is most violent and furious, there the boldest sliores, and of the most compact materials, are found to oppose it.
There are many shores which are several hundred feet in perpendicular height, against which the sea, when swoln with tides or storns rises and beats with inconceivable fury. In the Orkney Isles, where the shores are thus formed it sometimes, in a storm, rises two hundred feet, aud dashes up its spray, together with sand, and other substances, upon the land, like showers of rain.
From hence we may conceive how the violence of the sea and the boldness of the shore, may be said to have made each other. Where the sea meets no obstacles, it spreads its waters with a gentle swell, till all its power is destroyed, by wanting depth to aid the motion. But when its progress is checked in the midst, by the prominence of rocks, or the abrupt elevation of the land, it dashes with all the force of its depth against the obstacle, and forms, by its repeated violence, that abrupiness of the shore which confines its impetuousity.
Where the sea is extremely deep, or very much vexed by tempests, it is no small obstacle tliat can confine its rage; and for this reason we see the boldest shores projected against the deepest waters, all less impediments having been long before surmounted and washed away. Perhaps of all the sħores in the world, there is not one higher than that on the west of St. Kilda; which, upon adineasurement, has been found to be six hundred fathoms perpendicular above the surface of the water. Here also, the sea is deep, turbulent, and dreadfully agitated with storms; so that it requires great force in the shore to oppose its violence. In
many parts of the world, and particularly upon the coasts of the East Indies, the shores, though not high above water, are generally very deep, and consequently the waves roll against the land with great weight and irregularity. This rising of the waves against the shore, is called by mariners, the surf of the sea; and in shipwrecks is generally fatal to such as attempt to swim on shore. In this case, no dexterity in the swimmer, no float he can use, neither swimming girdle nor cork-jacket will save him; the weight of the superincumbent wave breaks upon him at once, and crushes him with certain ruin. Some few of the natives, however,