Sublime reposing Sea, whereon the sun

Lets fall his ever-bright, refracting rays— Now look'st thou gay as some fair jewell'd one, While her adorer makes her blush with praise! Ah! who could think, whilst they in transport gaze On thy hush'd bosom, where no throb is seen

To swell its motion, that within thee plays Each form athletic, and each monster mean, Raving and rolling thy deep rocks between,

And with outrageous force dash even now

Within thy cavern'd breast, like famine lean;
Waging wild havoc with unshrinking brow?
Ye mighty monsters, roaming ever free,—
Raise not one ripple on this golden Sea!

Yet, as I scan thy liquid face of light,
And moralize on thy o'erwhelming might;
Methinks I hear an aqueous voice beneath,
Among thy scaly caves, strange music breathe,
While Tritons join the chorus of the strain;-
Hark! louder roll the rising notes again!

I ride on the waves of commotion

My song is the trumpet-tongued breeze! The dark clouds above are the curtains That hang round my billowy bed; No earthy-soul'd minions sit round me, By whom I'd be daily misled!

No law-givers learn me a lesson;
No flatterers sit round my throne;
No subject is bent by oppression;
I'm monarch, and monarch alone!
My empire's an empire of pleasure;
Our day is perennial and bright;
We sigh not for leaden-wing'd leisure,
Nor know we the sluggard named Night!

No cares cloud my forehead with sorrow;
No allies have I to make war;
From grief's gloomy cell I ne'er borrow
Hope gainless and bright as a star!
My wealth is each moment increasing,
For, mix'd with the coral below,

The floors of my palace unceasing,

With Earth's brightest diadems glow!

Then, hurra! for my limitless empire;
Earth dreams she is merry and wise,
Though suck'd at each pore by a vampyre,
And nursed but in sickness and sighs!

I'm Neptune the monarch of ocean,
With trident I toss up the seas;

I love the great waves of commotion;
My song is the trumpet-tongued breeze!

The spell was burst-the sea-king swept along,
And died the free vibrations of his song:

His web-toed coursers paw'd the liquid plain,
And all was hush'd to solitude again :-

The mermaid-throng, that glittered round his car,
Sunk down to their deep sanctuary afar ;-
The linking circlets levelled on their way,

And left the unrufled sea to orbful day;
Yet by the shell-strewn beach I loved to roam,

Till night-fall whispered modestly of home.

With these high glories firing my young breast, Quite over-charm'd I sunk to balmy rest;

G 2

But secret sorrows wait on human hearts,
And troubles, all unseen, deal out their darts
While the glad soul on wingèd bliss is borne
Above this frigid world's ungenerous scorn!
We, unprophetic beings! know no more

Than what is spread our transient gaze before;
Like summer's tender flowers-a moment gay-
If Boreas breathes upon them, where are they?
Or like soft letters traced upon the shore,
Which the next tide rubs out for evermore;
So are our joys at once reduced to pain,
And as our hopes rise high-they sink again!

So, waking from a dream, I gazed around,
And felt mine eye-balls seal'd in gloom profound.
It cannot be, I cried, that ebon night
Has with his sable fingers quench'd their light!
Yet did I lift mine eye-lids all in vain;

No light swept through their portals to the brain,
Though well I knew it was the glorious morn;
I heard the blackbird whistle on the thorn,
And all the vocal throng ascend in air,

To pour at Heaven's gates their matin prayer!

h

I heard the woodman in the echoing glade,
And long'd to walk each sweet piazza-shade,
Which the great Artist rear'd in midway air,
Like vast cathedrals, twining fresh and fair!—
Soft whispering echoes stole upon mine ear,
That said—the sun illumed our dædal sphere;
Yet in my lone apartment, though 'twas morn—
Silence and darkness sat in hideous scorn;

Held out their cheerless sceptres o'er my soulBanish'd my hopes, and proved their dread controul!

Oh, is it so? my God! I wept and cried, And am I thus thy living light denied ?— Oh, is it so? I tried mine eyes again;— My swelling bosom, bursting with its pain— Oh! why was I a moment blest with sight, My soul exclaim'd, to lose thy charms-O Light? My strength was spent-my spirit on the wingMy heart dissolv'd, touch'd by the fiery sting Of anguish-my desponding bosom sprung Its silver cords, and language fled my tongue. I swoon'd upon my couch, oppress'd, and lay Lost in oblivion's arms, like lifeless clay.