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Its slow, strange progress mark;
As it moves tow'rds them by the breeze
Borne onward from more Northern Seas.

5 Near, and more near-and can it be,
(More vent'rous than their own)
A Ship, whose seeming ghost they see,
Among those Icebergs thrown;
With broken masts, dismantled all,
And dark sails, like a funeral pall?

6 (。) "God of the Màriner! protèct
Her inmates as she moves along,
Through perils which, ere now, had wrèck'd-
But that thine arm is strong.'


(°) Ha! she has struck-she gròunds—she stànds ·· Still as if held by giant hands.

7 "Quick, man the boat!"-away they sprang, The stranger ship to aid;

And loud their hailing voices rang,

And rapid speed they made:

But all in silence, deep, unbroke,
The vessel stood-none answering spoke.

8 "Twas fearful-not a sound arose-
No moving thing was there,
To interrupt the dread repose

Which filled each heart with fear;
On deck they silent stepped, and sought,
'Till one, a màn, their sad sight caught.

9 He was alone-the damp, chill mould
Of years hung on his cheek;
A pen in his hand had meekly told

The tale no voice might speak:


Seventy days," the record stood,
"Had they been in the ice, and wanted food."

10 They took his book, and turned away, But soon discovered where

The wife, in her death-sleep, gently lay,
Near him, in life most dear-

Who, seated beside his young heart's pride,
Long years before had calmly died.

11 Oh, wedded love! how beautiful,
How pùre a thing thou art:
Whose influence even in death can rule,
And triumph o'er the heart;
Can cheer life's roughest walk, and shed
A holy light around the dead.

12 There was a solemn, sacred feeling
Kindled in every breast;

And softly from the cabin stealing,
They left them to their rèst-
The fair, the yoúng, the constant pair,
They left them with a blessing there;

13 And to their boat returning, each
With thoughtful brows and haste,
And o'ercharged hearts, too full for speech,
Left 'midst the frozen waste,

That Charnel Ship, which years before,
Had sail'd from distant Albion's shore.

14 They left her in the icebergs, where
Few venture to intrude;

A monument of death and fear,
'Mid Ocean's solitude!

And, grateful for their own release,

Thanked Gòd, and sought their homes in peace.


Life.-A Spanish Poem.-EDINBURGH REVIEW.

1 Oh! while we eye the rolling tide,
Down which our flowing minutes glide
Away so fast;

Let us the present hour employ,
And deem each future dream a joy
Already past.

2 Let no vain hope deceive
No happier let us hope to find,
To-morrow than to-day;
Our golden dreams of yore were bright,
Like them the present shall delight-

Like them decay.


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3 Our lives like hasting streams must be,
That into one ingulfing sea,
Are doomed to fall-

The sea of death, whose waves roll on,
O'er king and kingdom, crown and throne,
And swallow all.

4 Alike the river's lordly tide, Alike the humble riv'let's glide To that sad wave;

Death levels poverty and pride,
And rich and poor sleep side by side
Within the grave.

5 Our birth is but a starting place; Life is the running of the race: And death the goal;

There all those glittering toys are bought,
That path alone, of all unsought,
Is found of all.

6 Say then how poor and little worth Are all those glittering toys of earth, That lure us here?

Dreams of a sleep that death must break,
Alas! before it bids us wake,

Ye disappear!


Death and the Drunkard.-ANONYMOUS.

1 His form was fair, his cheek was health;
His word a bond, his purse was wealth;
With wheat his field was covered o'er,
Plenty sat smiling at his door.

His wife the fount of ceaseless joy;
How laughed his daughter, played his boy;
His library, though large, was read,

Till half its contents decked his head.

At morn 'twas health, wealth, pure delight, 'Twas health, wealth, peace and bliss at night; I wished not to disturb his bliss

'Tis gone! but all the fault was his.

2 The social glass I saw him seize,
The more with festive wit to please,
Daily increase his love of cheer-
Ah, little thought he I was near!
Gradual indulgence on him stole,
Frequent became the midnight bowl.
I in that bowl the headache placed,
Which, with the juice, his lips embraced.
Shame next I mingled with the draught;
Indignantly he drank and laughed.

3 In the bowl's bottom Bankruptcy
I placed he drank with tears and glee.
Remorse did I into it pour;

He only sought the bowl the more.
I mingled next joint torturing pain;
Little the less did he refrain.
The dropsy in the cup I mixed;
Still to his mouth the cup was fixed.
My emissaries thus in vain

I sent the mad wretch to restrain.

4 On the bowl's bottom then myself..
I threw; the most abhorrent elf
Of all that mortals hate or dread;
And thus in horrid whispers said-
"Successless ministers I've sent,
Thy hastening ruin to prevent;
Their lessons nought-then here am I;
Think not my threatenings to defy.
Swallow this, this thy last 'twill be,
For with it thou must swallow me.

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5 Haggard his eyes, upright his hair,
Remorse his lips, his cheeks despair;
With shaking hand the bowl he clasp'd,
My meetless limbs his carcass grasp'd
And bore it to the churchyard-where
Thousands, ere I would call, repair.

6 Death speaks-ah, reader, dost thou hear? Hast thou no lurking cause to fear? Has not o'er thee the sparkling bowl

Constant, commanding, sly control?
Betimes reflect, betimes beware-
Though ruddy, healthful now and fair,
Before slow reason lose the sway,
Reform-postponed another day,
Too soon may mix with common clay.


The Plague in London.-ROTHELAN.

In its malignancy, it engrossed the ill of all other maladies, and made doctors despicable. Of a potency equal to death, it possessed itself of all his armouries, and was itself the death of every other mortal distemper. The 5 touch, yea, the very sight of the infected, was deadly; and its signs were so sudden, that families seated in happiness at their meals have seen the plague spot begin to redden, and have wildly scattered themselves forever. The cement of society was dissolved by it. Mothers, 10 when they saw the sign of the infection on the babes at their bosom, cast them from them with abhorrence. Wild places were sought for shelter;-some went intc ships and anchored themselves afar off on the waters. But the angel that was pouring the vial had a foot on the 15 sea, as well as on the dry land. No place was wild, that the plague did not visit-none so secret that the quick-sighted pestilence did not discover, none could fly that it did not overtake.

It was as if Heaven had repented the making of man20 kind, and was shovelling them all into the sepulchre. Justice was forgotten, and her courts deserted. The terrified jailers fled from the felons that were in fettersthe innocent and the guilty leagued themselves together, and kept within their prisons for safety;-the grass grew 25 in the market-places;-the cattle went moaning up and down the fields, wondering what had become of their keepers; the rooks and the ravens came into the towns, and built their nests in the mute belfries;-silence was universal, save when some infected wretch was seen 30 clamouring at a window.

For a time all commerce was in coffins and shrouds;


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