He was deafen'd amidst the mountain-tops, But just as his body was all afloat And the surges above him broke, He was saved from the hungry deep by a boat, Of Deal-(but builded of oak). The skipper gave him a dram, as he lay, And chafed his shivering skin; And the angel returned that was flying away With the spirit of Peter Fin! Hero and Leander. TO S. T. COLERIDGE. T is not with a hope my feeble praise Can add one moment's honour to thy own, For that some precious favour thou hast shown And by this token I would have it known Thou art my friend, and friendly to my rhyme ! It is my dear ambition now to climb Still higher in thy thought,-if my bold pen But I am thirsty for thy praise, for when 134 Он Bards of old! what sorrows have ye sung, Was it that spectacles of sadder plights Should make our blisses relish the more high? There stand Abydos!-here is Sestos' steep, Lo! how the lark soars upward and is gone; For love hath framed a ditty of regrets, For ere the golden crevices of morn And hang rich fringes on the skirts of night, Hark! how the billows beat upon the sand! "Alas!" he sigh'd, "that this first glimpsing light, Which makes the wide world tenderly appear, Should be the burning signal for my flight, From all the world's best image, which is here; Whose very shadow, in my fond compare, Shines far more bright than Beauty's self elsewhere." Their cheeks are white as blossoms of the dark, Ev'n thus they creep into the spectral grey, For what rich merchant but will pause in fear She thinks how many have been sunk and drown'd, T |