The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,

Joy quickens his pulse--all hardships seem o'er, And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest

“Oh God thou hast blest me—I ask for no more."

Ah! what is that flame, which now bursts on his eye?

Ah! what is that sound which now larums his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky!

'Tis the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere!

He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck ;

Amazement confronts him with images direWild winds and waves drive the vessel a wreck

The masts fly in splinters—the shrouds are on fire!

Like mountains the billows tremendously swell

In vain the lost wretch calls on Mary to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!

Oh! sailor-boy, wo to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of blissWhere now is the picture that fancy touched bright,

Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss ?

Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again

Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main,

Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,

Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge : But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,

And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge.

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid;

Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,

And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away,

And still the vast waters above thee shall rollEarth loses thy pattern for ever and aye

Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul.

35. THE NEGLECTED CHILD.—Bayly.
I never was a favorite

My mother never smiled
On me, with half the tenderness

That blessed her fairer child.
I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek,

While fondled on her knee ;
I've turned away to hide my tears,

There was no kiss for me!
And yet I strove to please, with all

My little store of sense ;
I strove to please, and infancy

Can rarely give offense.
But when my artless efforts met

A cold, ungentle check,
I did not dare to throw myself,

In tears, upon her neck.
How blessed are the beautiful!

Love watches o'er their birth; Oh beauty! in my nursery

I learned to know thy worth :For even there, I often felt

Forsaken and forlorn, And wished

for others wished it too I never had been born! I'm sure I was affectionate,

But in my sister's face,
There was a look of love that claimed

A smile, or an embrace.
But when I raised my lip, to meet

The pressure children prize,
None knew the feelings of my heart,

They spoke not in my eyes.
But oh! that heart too keenly felt

The anguish of neglect;
I saw my sister's lovely form

With gems and roses decked;
I did not covet them; but oft,

When wantonly reproved,
I envied her the privilege

Of being so beloved.

But soon a time of triumph came

A time of sorrow too,
For sickness o'er my sister's form

Her venomed mantle threw :
The features once so beautiful,

Now wore the hue of death ;
And former friends shrank fearfully

From her infectious breath.
'Twas then, unwearied, day and night

I watched beside her bed,
And fearlessly upon my

breast
I pillowed her poor head.
She lived !she loved me for my care !

My grief was at an end;
I was a lonely being once,

But now I have a friend!

a

Now stood Eliza on the wood-crowned height,
O’er Minden's plain, spectatress of the fight;
Sought with bold eye, amid the bloody strife,
Her dearer self, the partner of her life;
From hill to hill the rushing host pursued,
And viewed his banner, or believed she viewed.
Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread,
Fast by his hand one lisping boy she led;
And one fair girl, amid the loud alarm,
Slept on her kerchief, cradled by her arm;
While round her brows bright beams of honor dart,
And love's warm eddies circle round her heart.
Near and more near the intrepid beauty pressed,
Saw through the driving smoke his dancing crest,
Heard the exulting shout, “ They run! they run !"
“Great God!" she cried, “he's safe! the battle's won!"

A ball now hisses through the airy tides,
(Some fury wings it, and some demon guides,)
Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck,
Wounds her fair ear and sinks into her neck;
The red stream issuing from her azure veins,
Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains.-
“ Ah me!" she cried, and sinking on the ground,
Kissed her dear babes, regardless of the wound.

Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn!
Wait, gushing life, oh, wait my love's return !
Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far!
The angel, pity, shuns the walks of war!
Oh, spare ye war-hounds, spare their tender age,
On me, on me," she cried, “exhaust your rage !"
Then with weak arms her weeping babes caressed,
And sighing, hid them in her blood-stained vest.

From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies,
Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes;
Eliza's name along the camp he calls,
Eliza! echoes through the canvass walls ;
Quick through the murmuring gloom his footseps tread
O’er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead,
Vault o'er the plain, and in the tangled wood,
Lo! dead Eliza, weltering in her blood !-
Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds,
With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds :-

Speak low,” he cries, and gives his little hand,
“Eliza sleeps upon the dew-cold sand;
Poor weeping babe with bloody fingers pressed,
And tried with pouting lips her milkless breast;
Alas! we both with cold and hunger quake-
Why do you weep ?–Mamma will soon awake.”
“She'll wake no more !" the hopeless mourner cried,
Upturned his eyes, and clasped his hands and sighed;
Stretched on the ground awhile entranced he lay,
And pressed warm kisses on the lifeless clay;
And then upsprung with wild convulsive start,
And all the father kindled in his heart;
“Oh heavens!” he cried, “my first rash vow forgive!
These bind to earth, for these I pray to live !"
Round his chill babes he wrapped his crimson vest,
And clasped them sobbing to his aching breast.

66

37.

BETH-GELERT; OR, THE DEATH OF THE GRAYHOUND.

Spencer.

The spearmen heard the bugle sound,

And cheerly smiled the morn,
And many a brach and many a hound,
Obeyed Llewellyn's horn.

But when he gained his castle door,

Aghast the chieftain stood,
The hound all o'er was smeared with

gore, His lips, his fangs, ran blood.

Llewellyn gazed with much surprise,

Unused such looks to meet,
His favorite checked his joyful guise,

And crouched and licked his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn past,

And on went Gelert too, And still where'er his

eyes

he cast Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.

O’erturned his infant's bed he found,

With blood-stained covert rent,
And all around, the walls and ground,

With recent blood besprent.!