But what's the loss of treasure, To losing of my dear? Should you some coast be laid on But none that loves you so. "How can they say that nature No eyes the rocks discover That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wand'ring lover, And leave the maid to weep." All melancholy lying, Thus wail'd she for her dear; She bow'd her head, and dy'd. JOHN GAY. [From The Seasons-Winter.] HOSE sullen seas, THO That wash'd th' ungenial pole, will rest no more Beneath the shackles of the mighty north; But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave. While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round? The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice, And in dire echoes bellowing round the main. And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport, Tempest the loosen'd brine; while, through the gloom, Far from the bleak inhospitable shore, Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl Of famish'd monsters, there awaiting wrecks. JAMES THOMSON. [From The Shipwreck, Canto iii.] N vain the cords and axes were prepared, IN For every wave now smites the quivering yard: High o'er the ship they throw a dreadful shade, Then on her burst in terrible cascade; Across the foundered deck o'erwhelming roar, And foaming, swelling, bound upon the shore. Swift up the mountain billow now she flies, Her shattered top half buried in the skies; Borne o'er a latent reef the hull impends, Then thundering on the marble crag descends: Her ponderous bulk the dire concussion feels, And o'er upheaving surges wounded reelsAgain she plunges hark! a second shock Belges the splitting vessel on the rockDown on the vale of death, with dismal cries, The fated victims shuddering cast their eyes In wild despair; while yet another stroke With strong convulsion rends the solid oak: Ah Heaven!-behold her crashing ribs divide She loosens, parts, and spreads in ruin o'er the tide. WILLIAM FALCONER. [From Retirement.] CEAN exhibits, fathomless and broad, OCEAN Much of the power and majesty of God. He swathes about the swelling of the deep, That shines, and rests, as infants smile and sleep; The breathings of the lightest air that blows; The rising waves obey the increasing blast, WILLIAM COWPER. Rondeau. BLOW high, blow low, let tempests tear The main-mast by the board; My heart, with thoughts of thee, my dear, Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear, To be once more Safe moor'd with thee. Aloft while mountains high we go, Shall my signal be To think on thee, And this shall be my song: Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear And on that night when all the crew And drink their sweethearts and their wives, Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear CHARLES DIBDIN. B |