And beauty, by the hand of Power divine
Lavish'd on all its works. Eternity
Shall thus roll on with ever fresh delight;
No pause of pleasure or improvement; world
On world still opening to the instructed mind
An unexhausted universe, and time
But adding to its glories. While the soul
Advancing ever to the Source of light
And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns
In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss.
BY MRS. SEBA SMITH.
WITH graceful waist and carvings brave,
The trim hull waits the sea-
And she proudly stoops to the crested wave,
While round go the cheerings three.
Her prow swells up from the yeasty deep,
Where it plunged in foam and spray :
And the glad waves, gathering round her, sweep
And buoy her in their play.
Thou wert nobly rear'd, O heart of oak!
In the sound of the ocean roar,
Where the surging wave o'er the rough rock
And bellow'd along the shore
And how wilt thou in the storm rejoice,
With the wind through spar and shroud,
To hear a sound like the forest voice,
When the blast was raging loud!
With snow-white sail, and streamer gay,
She sits like an ocean-sprite,
Careering on in her trackless way,
In sunshine or dark midnight:
Her course is laid with fearless skill,
For brave hearts man the helm;
And the joyous winds her canvass fill-
Shall the wave the stout ship whelm?
On, on she goes, where the icebergs roll,
Like floating cities by ;
Where meteors flash by the northern pole,
And the merry dancers fly;
Where the glittering light is backward flung
From icy tower and dome,
And the frozen shrouds are gayly hung
With gems from the ocean foam.
On the Indian sea was her shadow cast,
As it lay, like molten gold,
And her pendant, shroud, and towering mast,
Seem'd twice on the waters told.
The idle canvass slowly swung
As the spicy breeze went by,
And strange, rare music round her rung
From the palm-tree growing nigh.
O, gallant ship, thou didst bear with thee
The gay and the breaking heart,
And weeping eyes look'd out to see
Thy white-spread sails depart.
And when the rattling casement told
Of many a perill'd ship,'
The anxious wife her babes would fold,
And pray with trembling lip.
The petrel wheel'd in its stormy flight;
The wind piped shrill and high;
On the topmast sat a pale blue light,
That flicker'd not to the eye:
The black cloud came, like a banner, down,
And down came the shrieking blast;
The quivering ship on her beams is thrown,
And gone are helm and mast.
Helmless, but on before the gale,
She ploughs the deep-trough'd wave:
A gurgling sound-a frenzied wail-
And the ship hath found a grave.
And thus is the fate of the acorn told,
That fell from the old oak tree,
And the woodland Fays in the frosty mould
Preserved for its destiny.
GAMARA is a dainty steed,
Strong, black, and of a noble breed,
Full of fire, and full of bone,
With all his line of fathers known,
Fine his nose, his nostrils thin,
But blown abroad by the pride within!
His mane is like a river flowing,
And his eyes like embers glowing
In the darkness of the night,
And his pace as swift as light.
Look! how 'round his straining throat
Grace and shifting beauty float!
Sinewy strength is on his reins,
And the red blood gallops through his veins
Richer, redder, never ran
Through the boasting heart of man
He can trace his lineage higher
Than the Bourbons dare aspire-
Douglas, Guzman, or the Guelph,
Or O'Brien's blood itself!
He, who hath no peer, was born
Here, upon a red March morn :
Bu his famous fathers, dead,
Were Arabs all, and Arab bred:
And the last of that great line
Trod like one of a race divine!
And yet he was but friend to one,
Who fed him at the set of sun,
By some lone fountain fringed with green:
With him, a roving Bedouin,
He lived (none else would he obey
Through all the hot Arabian day)-
And died untamed upon the sands
Where Balkh amid the desert stands !
ADMIRED Miranda !
Indeed the top of admiration; worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard; and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so full soul but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owned
And put it to the foil. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.
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