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THE SMUGGLERS.

FROM hostile shores returning, glad I look
On native scenes again; and first salute
Thee, Burton, and thy lofty cliff, where oft
The nightly blaze is kindled; further seen
Than erst was that love-tended cresset, hung
Beside the Hellespont: yet not like that
Inviting to the hospitable arms

Of Beauty and Youth, but lighted up, the sign
Of danger, and of ambush'd foes to warn
The stealth-approaching vessel, homeward bound
From Havre or the northern isles, with freight
Of wines and hotter drinks, the trash of France,
Forbidden merchandise. Such fraud to quell
Many a light skiff and well appointed sloop
Lies hovering near the coast, or hid behind
Some curved promontory, in hope to seize
These contraband: vain hope! on that high shore
Station'd, the' associates of their lawless trade
Keep watch, and to their fellows off at sea
Give the known signal; they with fearful haste,
Observant, put about the ship, and plunge
Into concealing darkness. As a fox,

That from the cry of hounds and hunters' din
Runs crafty down the wind, and steals away
Forth from his cover, hopeful so to' elude
The not yet following pack,-if chance the shout
Of eager or unpractised boy betray
His meditated flight, back he retires

To shelter him in the thick wood: so these
Retiring, ply to south, and shun the land
Too perilous to approach: and oft at sea
Secure (or ever nigh the guarded coast

They venture) to the trackless deep they trust
Their forfeitable cargo, rundlets small,
Together link'd upon their cable's length,
And to the shelving bottom sunk and fix'd
By stony weights; till happier hour arrive
To land it on the vacant beach unrisk'd.

REV. W. CROWE.

THE LOSS OF THE HALSEWELL.

SEE how the Sun, here clouded, afar off
Pours down the golden radiance of his light
Upon the' enridged sea; where the black ship
Sails on the phosphor-seeming waves. So fair,
But falsely flattering, was yon surface calm,
When forth for India sail'd, in evil time,
That vessel, whose disastrous fate, when told,
Fill'd every breast with horror, and each eye
With piteous tears, so cruel was the loss.
Methinks I see her, as, by the wintry storm
Shatter'd and driven along past yonder isle,
She strove, her latest hope, by strength or art,
To gain the port within it, or at worst
To shun that harbourless and hollow coast
From Portland eastward to the promontory,
Where still St. Alban's high built chapel stands.
But art nor strength avail her-on she drives,
In storm and darkness, to the fatal coast;
And there 'mong rocks and high o'erhanging cliffs
Dash'd piteously, with all her precious freight
Was lost, by Neptune's wild and foamy jaws
Swallow'd up quick! The richliest laden ship
Of spicy Ternate, or that annual sent
To the Philippines o'er the southern main

From Acapulco, carrying massy gold,

Were poor to this;-freighted with hopeful Youth,
And Beauty, and high Courage undismay'd
By mortal terrors, and paternal Love

Strong, and unconquerable even in death-
Alas, they perish'd all, all in one hour!

REV. W. CROWE.

THE BARD.

BESIDE him o'er his harp Aneurin bow'd,
The whitehair'd bard, sole faithful he, sole friend;
For minds of poets from their own high sphere
Look down on earth's distinctions, high and low,
Sunken or soaring, as the equal sun

Sheds light along the vale and mountain's brow.
He, in the hall of feasting who fast seal'd
The treasures of his harmony, now pours
Into the wounded heart his syrups sweet,
And laps it in the silken folds of sound.

But even among his strings the' infectious grief
Hath crept, and wither'd up their wantonness.
And wayward wanderings of despair belate
His fickle tones: anon bursts full and free
A start, a swell of pride, then sinks away
Involuntary to such doleful fall,

Misery so musical, its languid breath
Feeds, while it softens the deep-rooted woe.
Such melodies at tragic midnight heard

Mid a deserted city, gliding o'er

The deep green moss of tower and fane o'erthrown, Had seem'd immortal sorrows in the air,

O'er man's inconstant grandeurs. Sad such wreck,

More sad, more worthy angel's woe, the waste
And desolation of a noble mind,

High fertile faculties run wild and rank,
Bright fiery qualities in darkness slaked.

MILMAN.

PARENTS DESERTED BY THEIR CHILD.
MAIDEN! by Wye's transparent stream abode
An aged pair, and their declining day
One beauteous child enlighten'd, and dispensed
Soft moonlight o'er their darkening eve; they
The only pang of death from her to part. [thought
But heavy was their sinking to the grave,
For that fair beam in unchaste darkness quench'd
Its virgin lustre, and its light withdrew,
Of their old limbs the life: alone they dwelt,
In discontent and cold distaste of all,
As her ingratitude had made them sick
Of the world's hollowness, and if she fail'd,
All earthly things must needs be false and frail.
They ne'er reproach'd her, for so near the grave
They could not hate; but for her sake they loathed
Each old familiar face that once they loved.
Where she was wont to wander wander'd they;
The garden flowers she tended they bound up
With woeful care; their chill and shaking hands
Made tremulous music with her lute. I shrunk
In hoary age to see such childish joys.
They felt one after pleasure,-the same hour
They glided from their woes, their parting breath,
Blended in languid blessings on her head,
For her went suppliant to the throne of God,
Their lost Myfanwy.

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MILMAN.

STERN RESOLUTION.

Lo, in the presence of the judgment court
The second criminal *; pride had not pass'd
Nor majesty from his hoar brow; he stood
With all except the terror of despair,
Consciously in fatality's strong bonds
Manacled, of the coming death assured,
Yet fronting the black future with a look
Obdurate even to scornfulness. He seem'd
As he heard nought, as though his occupied ears
Were pervious to no sound, since that dim voice
Of her who speaking died, the silver-hair'd,
The prophetess, that never spake untrue:
As ever with a long unbroken flow

Her song was ranging through his brain, and struck
Its death-knoll on his soul. Nor change had come
Since that drear hour to eye or cheek; the craft,
The wisdom that was wont to make him lord
Over the shifting pageant of events,
Had given its trust up to o'erruling fate,
And that stern paramount, Necessity,

Had seal'd him for her own. Amid them all
He tower'd, as when the summer thunderbolt
Mid a rich fleet some storm-accustom❜d bark
Hath stricken, round her the glad waters dance,
Her sails are full, her strong prow fronts the waves;
But works within the' irrevocable doom,
Wells up her secret hold the' inundant surge,
And the' heavy waters weigh her slowly down.

MILMAN.

• Hengist.

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