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THE YOUNG MARINER'S DREAM.
In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay,
He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While memory each scene gaily covered with flowers, And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise;-Now far, far behind him, the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eye.
The jessamine clambers, in flower, o'er the thatch;
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight;
With those of the sister his bosom holds dear.
The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,
Joy quickens his pulses,-his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,"O God! thou has blest me; I ask for no more."
Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye? Ah! what is that sound which now larums his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting wrath on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere!
He springs from his hammock,-he flies to the deck,--
In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save;
And the death angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave. O sailor boy! woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss: Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honied kiss?
O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed, and unhonoured, down deep in the main, Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge!
On a bed of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid; Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below.
Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll: Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye;
O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul !
THE VICTOR ANGELS.
Now when fair morn orient in Heaven appeared, Up rose the victor Angels, and to arms The matin trumpet sung: in arms they stood Of golden panoply, refulgent host, Soon banded; others from the dawning hills Looked round, and scouts each coast light armed scour Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight, In motion or in halt: him soon they met Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow But firm battalion; back with speediest sail Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing, Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried; 'ARM, Warriors, arm for fight,--the foe at hand, Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit This day; fear not his flight: so thick a cloud He comes; and settled in his face I see Sad resolution and secure : let each His adamantine coat gird well, and each Fit well his helm,-gripe fast his orbed shield, Borne even or high; for this day will pour down, If I conjecture aught, no drizzling shower, But rattling storm of arrows barbed with fire.'
So warned he them, aware themselves, and soon In order, quit of all impediment; Instant, without disturb, they took alarm, And onward move, embattled: when behold! Not distant far, with heavy pace the foe, Approaching, gross and huge, in hollow cube, Training his devilish enginery, impaled On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, To hide the fraud. At interview both stood Awhile; but suddenly at head appeared Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud: "VANGUARD, to right and left the front unfold, That all may see who hate us, how we seek Peace and composure, and with open breast Stand ready to receive them, if they like Our overture, and turn not back perverse."
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END OF VOL. VI.
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