SELECTED POETRY.

FROM THE PORT FOLIO.

PRIZE POEM.

OCEAN.-A NAVAL ODE.

ALL hail, thou mightiest, monstrous power!
To whom in this tempestuous hour,

The nations bow the knee.

This hour, when heaven's right arm hath hurled

Its thunders round a warring world,

O'er Christendom one bloody flag unfurl'd—
We lift our eyes to thee.

Primeval Power! ere order sprung,
While yet o'er chaos darkness hung,
Thou wert; and when, in onward time,
The impious mortal stain'd by crime
The image of his sire sublime;
Then, great avenger: didst thou rise,
And swelling to the darken'd skies,
Each of thy waves, commissioned then,
Whelm'd in the worthless race of men.

OCEAN-that venerable name
What tongue unfaltering shall proclaim !
Here, as upon my native plain

That borders on thy wide domain,

I stand, and strive one glimpse to gain

Of half thy worth, but strive in vain.
Power-to whose hundred hands is given
To toss their foam against the face of heaven,
And ere insulted heaven its wrath can strow,
Retreat in safety to th' abyss below.

Extent-whose untold regions lie
Where man nor angel e'er could pry,
Who mantlest round this mighty globe,
As in one vast, cerulean robe.
And wealth-whose many massive heaps
Lie piled within thy cavern deeps,
Where new Peruvias unfold

Their copious veins of liquid gold,
And other Indies rise, to spread
Of rival gems, thy sparkling bed.
Yet, grand and awful as thou art,
'Tis ours, with no foreboding heart,
To count thy glories o'er ;-
Descendants from that western wild,
Of heaven the latest, loveliest child,
Who, safe in thy protection, smil'd;
Nor car'd nor ask'd for more.

Blooming so long from all intrusion free,
And known to none but Heaven and Thee;
Till He, thy chosen chieftain, came,

Genoa's boast, Iberia's shame;

(Blest had he never ceas'd o'er thee to roam,

Nor found disgrace, and chains, and death at home.)
He woo'd and won the peerless dame,
And gave to her his honour'd name.
E'er since that hour, their children, we,

In weal or worthy aid can see-
In war, thy guarding waters rose,

A fence between us and our foes.

In peace thy stars have been our guides,
Our coursers swift, thy foaming tides;

And safe have been our billowy rides,

As when some white wing'd seraph glides
To haven of repose!

Far to that execrated shore,

Where ancient Carthage tower'd of yore.

"Twas thy supporting arms that bore

'Gainst Punic perfidy, the band,

Who well aveng'd our injur'd land:
And drove the crescent bath'd in blood,

To hide its blushes in the flood.

But when no effort could withstand

The wily Turk's ensnaring hand,

Snatch'd for themselves the lighted brand,
And mounting in a shroud of flame,
Died to the world-to live in fame!

And now-though in the recent year
That compass'd our “ diurnal sphere,"
Defeat, disgrace, and want, and fear,
Wherever else we look, appear;

Yet, when to Thee we turn our eyes,
Some stars amid the storms arise.
Lo! twice within that little year,
Behold yon trophied bark appear,
Whose Eagle, in the watʼry field,
Twice bade the British Lion yield!
Whose noble mast yet stands to tell
Its native oaks, it never felL!
And bids Defiances' loudest blast
Challenge the world to mate that mast,
For service shar'd—or duty done-
For danger dar'd-for vict'ry won!*

Ere, echoing round our gladden'd shore,

The peal of triumph scarce was o'er,
Thou bad'st thy winds to bear again,
O'er all its hills the lofty strain;
To tell them that another sail,
Mid dark October's stormy gale,

In direst, deadliest shock, could close

With hearts as brave as Britain knows,

And in that shock prevail! †

We crowd not on the shudd'ring sight

The horrors of that awful fight;

It is scarcely necessary to state, that this alludes to the two conquests atchieved by the " Consitution" over the Guerriere and Java-the first under the immediate command of captain Hull; the second under that of commodore Bainbridge. It has been asserted, that no vessel of equal force has been known, in any service, to have acquired as much glory in as little time.

+ The engagement between captain Jones, in the « Wasp,” and the " Frolick,” in which the latter was captured.

Not ours to count the cruel acars,

And groans, and wounds of ocean-wars.
Let others note how, side by side,

The virtuous and the valiant died.
Where gun, 'gainst gun, encount'ring lay
So near, they cross'd each other's way!
And from the suff`ring and the slain,
The life stream mingled with the main !
Till Conquest grasp'd his laurel'd crown,
Less as a symbol of renown,

Than to conceal from sight, from thought,
Proofs of the price at which twas bought.

Thou, Ocean, thou, the seamen's sire!
Witness for us while deeds like those
Approv'd our prowess to our foes,

Did they not, 'mid ourselves, inspire

In all, the emulous desire

As well to act, as to a 1mire!

Witness, as well it may,

That One could unattended roam

To Albin's very channel home,

In vain, but hold essay;

And One could bid his cannon sound

To St. Salvador's fartherest ground,

Till Andes might the shock rebound,

Of challenging the fray §

And soon, with streamers waving nigh

On thy blue throne exalted high,

We hair'd another naval son

Grac'd with the gift his arm had won;

A rare and goodly gift, to greet

A country ever proud to meet

The same chivalrous chief, who bore

Rich tributes once from Barb'ry's shore,

As Allah's sons can tell;

But now a nobler trophy shows,

The cruise of commodore Rodgers.

§ The challenge of captain Lawrence to the Bon Citoyen.

Wrested from mightier, manlier foes,
Who fought so long-so well! ||
Vict'ry was ours, and, conflict o'er,
Found mercy had been ours before;
And kindness from elation free,
And frank, high-minded courtesy.
In losing peace, we have not lost
Tha: gentle grace she prizes most.
So may the goddess, when again
She re-ascends her sacred faue-

That fane, whose gates, alas! now closed,
Have stood to force and fraud exposed; ·
Find still upon her altar's urn
Unquenched its lambent lustre burn.
Without is all the storm and din
The vestal flame yet lives within.

Once more, upon thy list of fame,
Ocean, inscribe another name!
Surely we may not ask in vain

For him who ne'er can ask again!

For him, most priz'd yet pitied most,

For LAWRENCE honour'd-EAWRENCE lost!
For him, who erst the fight maintain'd,
And erst the conq'ror's chaplet gain'd,

And better, nobler far!

Who sprang where battle fiercest bled,
Between the living and the dead,

And stay'd the waste of war.
For him, whose virtues were declar'd
By enemies his sword had spar'd,
What time his arm humanely dar'd
The reeling captive to sustain,

And snatch the sinking from the main.

The life, in fight half lost before,
Was now to peril risk'd once more;

Till, aiding in the great emprize,

His comrades sunk before his eyes.

The capture and safe conduct home, of the " Macedonian dere Decatur.