The rainbow's offspring, when it met the ocean
In that resplendent vision I had seen.
While yet in ecstasy I hung o'er these,
Wtih every motion pouring out fresh beauties,
As though the conscious colours came and went
At pleasure, glorying in their subtle changes,
Enormous o'er the flood, Leviathan
Looked forth, and from his roaring nostrils sent
Two fountains to the sky, then plunged amain
In headlong pastime through the closing gulf.

THE COMMON LOT.
Once in the flight of ages past

There lived a man; and who WAS HE?
-Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,

That man resembled thee.
Unknown the region of his birth,

The land in which he died unknown:
His name has perished from the earth,

This truth survives alone:
That joy and grief, and hope and fear,

Alternate triumphed in his breast:
His bliss and woe,-a smile, a tear!

-Oblivion hides the rest.
The bounding pulse, the languid limb,

The changing spirits' rise and fall';
We know that these were felt by him,

For these are felt by all.
He suffered, but his pangs are o'er;

Enjoyed,-but his delights are fled;
Had friends,-his friends are now no more;

And foes,—his foes are dead.
He loved,,but whom he loved, the grave

Hath lost in its unconscious womb:
Oh! she was fair,-but nought could save

Her beauty from the tomb.
He saw-whatever thou hast seen;

Encountered all that troubles thee;
He was-whatever thou hast been;

He is what thou shalt be.

The rolling seasons, day and night,

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth, and main, Erewhile his portion, life, and light,

To him exist in vain.
The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye

That once their shades and glory threw,
Have left in yonder silent sky

No vestige where they flew. The annals of the human race,

Their ruins, since the world began, Of Him afford no other trace

Than this,—THERE LIVED A MAN!

THE CAST-AWAY SHIP.
A VESSEL sailed from Albion's shore,

To utmost India bound,
Its crest a hero's pendant bore,

With broad sea-laurels crowned
In many a fierce and noble fight,
Though foiled on that Egyptian night

When Gallia's host was drowned,
And Nelson, o'er his country's foes,
Like the destroying angel rose.
A gay and gallant company,

With shouts that rend the air,
For warrior-wreaths upon the sea,

Their joyful brows prepare:
But many a maiden's sigh was sent,
And many a mother's blessing went,

And many a father's prayer,
With that exulting ship to sea,
With that undaunted company.
The deep that, like a cradled child,

In breathing slumber lay,
More warmly blushed, more sweetly smiled,

As rose the kindling day:
Through ocean's mirror, dark and clear,
Reflected clouds and skies appear

In morning's rich array:
The land is lost, the waters glow,
'Tis heaven above, around, below.

Majestic o'er the sparkling tide,

See the tall vessel sail,
With swelling wings in shadowy pride,

A swan before the gale:
Deep-laden merchants rode behind:
-But, fearful of the fickle wind,

Britannia's cheek grew pale, When, lessening through the flood of light, Their leader vanished from her sight. Oft had she hailed its trophied prow,

Victorious from the war, And bannered masts that would not bow,

Though riven with many a scar: 1 Oft had her oaks their tribute brought, To rib its flanks, with thunder fraught;

But late her evil star
Had cursed it on its homeward way,
_“The spoiler shall become the prey."
Thus warned, Britannia's anxious heart

Throbbed with prophetic woe:
When she beheld that ship depart,

A fair ill-omened show!
So views the mother, through her tears,
The daughter of her hopes and fears,

When hectic beauties glow
On the frail cheek, where sweetly bloom,
The roses of an early tomb.
No fears the brave adventurers knew,

Peril and death they spurned :
Like full-fledged eagles forth they flew,

Jove's birds, that proudly burned,
In battle-hurricanes to wield
His lightnings on the billowy field;

And many a look they turned
O’er the blue waste of waves, to spy
A Gallic ensign in the sky.
But not to crush the vaunting foe,

In combat on the main,
Nor perish by a glorious blow,

In mortal triumph slain,
Was their unutterable fate;
-That story would the muse relate-

The song might rise in vain;
In ocean's deepest, darkest bed,
The secret slumbers with the dead.

On India's long-expecting strand

Their sails were never furled Never on known or friendly land

By storms their keel was hurled ;
Their native soil no more they trod,
They rest beneath no hallowed sod;

Throughout the living world,
This sole memorial of their lot
Remains,-they were, and they are not.
The spirit of the Cape pursued

Their long and toilsome way,
At length, in ocean solitude,

He sprang upon his prey :
“ Havoc!” the shipwreck-demon cried,
Loosed all his tempests on the tide,

Gave all his lightnings play;
The abyss recoiled before the blast,
Firm stood the seamen till the last.
Like shooting stars, athwart the gloom

The merchant sails were sped;
Yet oft, before its midnight doom,

They marked the high mast-head Of that devoted vessel, tossed By winds and floods, now seen, now lost;

While every gun-fire spread
A dimmer flash, a fainter roar:
-At length they saw, they heard no more.
There are to whom that ship was dear,

For love and kindred's sake;
When these the voice of Rumour hear,

Their inmost heart shall quake,
Shall doubt, and fear, and wish, and grieve,
Believe, and long to unbelieve,

But never cease to ache;
Still doomed, in sad suspense to bear,
The Hope that keeps alive Despair.

A MOTHER'S LOVE.
A MOTHER's love-how sweet the name!

What is a mother's love?
-A noble, pure, and tender flame,

Enkindled from above,
To bless a heart of earthly mould ;
The warmest love that can grow cold;

This is a mother's love,

To bring a helpless babe to light,

Then, while it lies forlorn,
To gaze upon that dearest sight,

And feel herself new-born,
In its existence lose her own,
And live and breathe in it alone;

This is a mother's love,
Its weakness in her arms to bear;
; To cherish on her breast,
Feed it from love's own fountain there,

And lull it there to rest; Then while it slumbers, watch its breath, As if to guard from instant death;

This is a mother's love.

To mark its growth from day to day,

Its opening charms admire,
Catch from its eye the earliest ray

Of intellectual fire ;
To smile and listen while it talks,
And lend a finger when it walks ;

This is a mother's love.
And can a mother's love grow cold?

Can she forget her boy?
His pleasing innocence behold,

Nor weep for grief- for joy?
A mother may forget her child,
While wolves devour it on the wild;
|--Is this a mother's love?
Ten thousand voices answer “No!"

Ye clasp your babes and kiss;
Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o'erflow!

Yet, ah! remember this; The infant, reared alone for earth, May live, may die,—to curse his birth;

- Is this a mother's love?

A parent's heart may prove a snare;

The child she loves so well, Her hand may lead, with gentlest care,

Down the smooth road to hell; Nourish its frame,-destroy its mind: Thus do the blind mislead the blind,

E’en with a mother's love.