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happiness and fertility. Present distress, the effect of | For all the pangs, the complicated wo,
slavery. Ithaca. Ulysses and Penelope. Argos and
Mycenae. Agamemnon. Macronisi. Lemnos. Vul-
can and Venus. Delos. Apollo and Diana. Troy:
Sestos. Leander and Hero. Delphos. Temple of
Apollo. Parnassus. The Muses. The subject re-
sumed. Sparkling of the sea. Prodigious tempest,
accompanied with rain, hail, and meteors. Darkness,
lightning, and thunder. Approach of day. Discovery
of land. The ship, in great danger, passes the island of
St. George. Turns her broadside to the shore. Her
bowsprit, foremast, and main topmast carried away.
Fate of the
She strikes a rock. Splits asunder.

Her bravest sons, her faithful sailors know!
So pity, gushing o'er each British breast,
Might sympathize with Briton's sons distrest:
For this, my theme through mazes I pursue,
Which nor Mæonides nor Maro knew!

crew.

The scene stretches from that part of the Archipelago which lies ten miles to the northward of Falconera, to Cape Colonna in Attica.

A while the mast in ruins dragg'd behind,
Balanced th' impression of the helm and wind:
The wounded serpent, agonized with pain,
Thus trails his mangled volume on the plain.
But now the wreck dissever'd from the rear,
The long reluctant prow began to veer;
And while around before the wind it falls,
"Square all the yards!"* th' attentive master calls;
You timoneers, her motion still attend!

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The time is about seven hours, being from one till eight in the For on your steerage all our lives depend.

morning.

WHEN in a barbarous age with blood defiled,
The human savage roam'd the gloomy wild;
When sullen Ignorance her flag display'd,
And Rapine and Revenge her voice obey'd;
Sent from the shores of light, the Muses came,
The dark and solitary race to tame;
'Twas theirs the lawless passions to control,
And melt in tender sympathy the soul:
The heart from vice and error to reclaim,
And breathe in human breasts celestial flame.
The kindling spirit caught th' empyreal ray,
And glow'd congenial with the swelling lay.
Roused from the chaos of primeval night,
At once fair Truth and Reason sprung to light.
When great Mæonides, in rapid song,
The thundering tide of battle rolls along.
Each ravish'd bosom feels the high alarms,
And all the burning pulses beat to arms.
From earth upborne, on Pegasean wings,

So, steady!† meet her, watch the blast behind,

And steer her right before the seas and wind!"

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Starboard, again!" the watchful pilot cries;
Starboard!" the obedient timoneer replies.
Then to the left the ruling helm returns ;
The wheelt revolves; the ringing axle burns!
The ship, no longer foundering by the lee,
Bears on her side th' invasions of the sea;
All lonely, o'er the desert waste she flies,
Scourged on by surges, storm, and bursting skies.
As when the masters of the lance assail,
In Hyperborean seas, the slumbering whale;
Soon as the javelins pierce his scaly hide,
With anguish stung, he cleaves the downward tide;
In vain he flies! no friendly respite found;
His life-blood gushes through th' inflaming wound.
The wounded bark, thus smarting with her pain,
Scuds from pursuing waves along the main ;
While, dash'd apart by her dividing prow,
Like burning adamant the waters glow.

Far through the boundless realms of thought he Her joints forget their firm elastic tone;

springs;

While distant poets, trembling as they view
His sunward flight, the dazzling track pursue.
But when his strings, with mournful magic, tell
What dire distress Laertes' son befell,
The strains, meandering through the maze of wo,
Bid sacred sympathy the heart o'erflow.
Thus, in old time, the Muses' heavenly breath
With vital force dissolved the chains of death;
Each bard in Epic lays began to sing,
Taught by the master of the vocal string.—
"Tis mine, alas! through dangerous scenes to stray,
Far from the light of his unerring ray!
While, all unused the wayward path to tread,
Darkling I wander with prophetic dread.
To me in vain the bold Mæonian lyre
Awakes the numbers, fraught with living fire!
Full oft, indeed, that mournful harp of yore
Wept the sad wanderer lost upon the shore;
But o'er that scene th' impatient numbers ran,
Subservient only to a nobler plan.

"Tis mine, th' unravell'd prospect to display,
And chain th' events in regular array.
Though hard the task, to sing in varied strains,
While all unchanged the tragic theme remains!
Thrice happy! might the secret powers of art
Unlock the latent windings of the heart,
Might the sad numbers draw Compassion's tear
For kindred miseries, oft beheld too near;
For kindred wretches, oft in ruin cast
On Albion's strand beneath the wintry blast;

Her long keel trembles, and her timbers groan;
Upheaved behind her in tremendous height
The billows frown, with fearful radiance bright!
Now shivering o'er the topmost wave she rides,
While deep beneath th' enormous gulf divides.
Now launching headlong down the horrid vale,
She hears no more the roaring of the gale;
Till up the dreadful height again she flies,
Trembling beneath the current of the skies.
As that rebellious angel who, from heaven,
To regions of eternal pain was driven;
When dreadless he forsook the Stygian shore,
The distant realms of Eden to explore;
Here, on sulphureous clouds sublime upheaved,
With daring wing th' infernal air he cleaved;
There, in some hideous gulf descending prone,
Far in the rayless void of night was thrown.

E'en so she scales the briny mountain's height,
Then down the black abyss precipitates her flight.
The masts around whose tops the whirlwinds sing,
With long vibrations round her axle swing.
To guide the wayward course amid the gloom,
The watchful pilots different posts assume.

*To square the yards, in this place, is meant to arrange them directly athwart the ship's length.

† Steady is the order to steer the ship according to the line on which she advances at this instant, without deviating to the right or left thereof.

In all large ships, the helm is managed by a wheel.

Albert and Rodmond, station'd on the rear,
With warning voice direct each timoneer;
High on the prow the guard Arion keeps,
To shun the cruisers wandering o'er the deeps;
Where'er he moves Palemon still attends,

As if on him his only hope depends;

The last foretold the spark of vital fire,
The soul's fine essence, never could expire.
Here Solon dwelt, the philosophic sage,
That fled Pisistratus' vindictive rage.
Just Aristides here maintain'd the cause,

Whose sacred precepts shine through Solon's laws.

While Rodmond, fearful of some neighbouring shore, Of all her towering structures, now alone,

Cries, ever and anon, “ Look out afore!"
Four hours thus scudding on the tide she flew,
When Falconera's rocky height they view:
High o'er its summit, through the gloom of night,
The glimmering watch-tower cast a mournful light.
In dire amazement riveted they stand,

And hear the breakers lash the rugged strand :
But soon beyond this shore the vessel flies,
Swift as the rapid eagle cleaves the skies.
So from the fangs of her insatiate foe,
O'er the broad champaign scuds the trembling roe.
That danger past, reflects a feeble joy;
But soon returning fears their hopes destroy.
Thus, in th' Atlantic, oft the sailor eyes,
While melting in the reign of softer skies,
Some alp of ice from polar regions blown,
Hail the glad influence of a warmer zone :
Its frozen cliffs attemper'd gales supply;
In cooling streams th' aërial billows fly;
A while deliver'd from the scorching heat,
In gentle tides the feverish pulses beat.

So, when their trembling vessel pass'd this isle,
Such visionary joys the crew beguile;
Th' illusive meteors of a lifeless fire;
Too soon they kindle, and too soon expire!

Say, Memory! thou, from whose unerring tongue
Instructive flows the animated song!
What regions now the flying ship surround?
Regions of old through all the world renown'd;
That once the Poet's theme, the Muses' boast,
Now lie in ruins; in oblivion lost!
Did they, whose sad distress these lays deplore,
Unskill'd in Grecian or in Roman lore,
Unconcious pass each famous circling shore?
They did; for blasted in the barren shade,
Here, all too soon, the buds of science fade:
Sad Ocean's genius, in untimely hour,
Withers the bloom of every springing flower:
Here Fancy droops, while sullen cloud and storm
The generous climate of the soul deform.
Then if among the wandering naval train,
One stripling exiled from th' Aonian plain,
Had e'er, entranced in Fancy's soothing dream,
Approach'd to taste the sweet Castalian stream,
(Since those salubrious streams with power di-
vine,

To purer sense th' attemper'd soul refine,)
His heart with liberal commerce here unblest,
Alien to joy! sincerer grief possest.
Yet on the youthful mind, th' impression cast,
Of ancient glory, shall for ever last.
There, all unquench'd by cruel Fortune's ire,
It glows with inextinguishable fire.

Immortal Athens first, in ruin spread,
Contiguous lies at Port Liono's head.

Great source of science! whose immortal name
Stands foremost in the glorious roll of Fame ;
Here godlike Socrates and Plato shone,
And, firm to truth, eternal honour won.
The first in Virtue's cause his life resign'd,
By Heaven pronounced the wisest of mankind;

Some scatter'd columns stand, with weeds o'er

grown.

The wandering stranger near the port descries
A milk-white lion of stupendous size;
Unknown the sculpture; marble is the frame;
And hence the adjacent haven drew its name.

Next, in the gulf of Engia, Corinth lies,
Whose gorgeous fabrics seem'd to strike the skies,
Whom, though by tyrant victors oft subsued,
Greece, Egypt, Rome, with awful wonder view'd.
Her name, for Pallas' heavenly art renown'd,*
Spread, like the foliage which her pillars crown'd;
But now, in fatal desolation laid,

Oblivion o'er it draws a dismal shade.

Then further westward, on Morea's land,
Fair Misitra! thy modern turrets stand.
Ah! who, unmoved with secret wo, can tell
That here great Lacedæmon's glory fell?

Here once she flourish'd at whose trumpet's

sound

War burst his chains, and nations shook around.
Here brave Leonidas, from shore to shore,
Through all Achaia bade her thunders roar :
He, when imperial Xerxes, from afar,
Advanced with Persia's sumless troops to war,
Till Macedonia shrunk beneath his spear,
And Greece dismay'd beheld the chief draw near:
He, at Thermopyla's immortal plain,
His force repell'd with Sparta's glorious train.
Tall Eta saw the tyrant's conquer'd bands,
In gasping millions, bleed on hostile lands.
Thus vanquish'd Asia trembling heard thy name,
And Thebes and Athens sicken'd at thy fame!
Thy state, supported by Lycurgus' laws,
Drew, like thine arms, superlative applause :
E'en great Epaminondas strove in vain
To curb that spirit with a Theban chain.
But ah! how low her free-born spirit now!
Her abject sons to haughty tyrants bow;
A false, degenerate, superstitious race
Infest thy region, and thy name disgrace!

Not distant far, Arcadia's blest domains
Peloponnesus' circling shore contains.
Thrice happy soil! where still serenely gay,
Indulgent Flora breathed perpetual May!
Where buxom Ceres taught th' obsequious field,
Rich without art, spontaneous gifts to yield;
Then with some rural nymph supremely blest,
While transport glow'd in each enamour'd breast,
Each faithful shepherd told his tender pain,
And sung of sylvan sports in artless strain.
Now, sad reverse! Oppression's iron hand
Enslaves her natives, and despoils the land.
In lawless rapine bred, a sanguine train
With midnight ravage scour th' uncultured plain.
Westward of these, beyond the isthmus lies
The long-lost isle of Ithacus the wise;
Where fair Penelope her absent lord
Full twice ten years with faithful love deplored.

Architecture.

Though many a princely heart her beauty won,
She, guarded only by a stripling son,
Each bold attempt of suitor-kings repell'd,
And undefiled the nuptial contract held.
With various arts to win her love they toil'd,
But all their wiles by virtuous fraud she foil'd.
True to her vows, and resolutely chaste,
The beauteous princess triumph'd at the last.
Argos, in Greece forgotten and unknown,
Still seems her crucl fortune to bemoan;
Argos, whose monarch led the Grecian hosts
Far o'er the Ægean main to Dardan coasts.
Unhappy prince! who on a hostile shore,
Toil, peril, anguish, ten long winters bore.
And when to native realms restored at last,
To reap the harvest of thy labours past,
A perjured friend, alas! and faithless wife,
There sacrificed to impious lust thy life;-
Fast by Arcadia, stretch these desert plains;
And o'er the land a gloomy tyrant reigns.

Next the fair isle of Helena* is seen,
Where adverse winds detain'd the Spartan queen;
For whom, in arms combined, the Grecian host,
With vengeance fired, invaded Phrygia's coast;
For whom so long they labour'd to destroy
The sacred turrets of imperial Troy.
Here, driven by Juno's rage, the hapless dame,
Forlorn of heart, from ruin'd Ilion came.
The port an image bears of Parian stone,
Of ancient fabric, but of date unknown.

Due east from this appears th' immortal shore
That sacred Phoebus and Diana bore.
Delos, through all th' Ægean seas renown'd:
(Whose coast the rocky Cyclades surround)
By Phoebus honour'd and by Greece revered!
Her hallow'd groves e'en distant Persia fear'd:
But now, a silent unfrequented land!
No human footstep marks the trackless sand.

Thence to the north, by Asia's western bound
Fair Lemnos stands, with rising marble crown'd;
Where, in her rage, avenging Juno hurl'd
Ill-fated Vulcan from th' ethereal world.
There his eternal anvils first he rear'd;
Then, forged by Cyclopean art, appear'd
Thunders, that shook the skies with dire alarms,
And, form'd by skill divine, Vulcanian arms.
There, with this crippled wretch, the foul disgrace
And living scandal of th' empyreal race,
The beauteous queen of Love in wedlock dwelt.
In fires profane, can heavenly bosoms melt?

Eastward of this appears the Dardan shore,
That once th' imperial towers of Ilium bore.
Illustrious Troy! renown'd in every clime,
Through the long annals of unfolding time!
How oft, thy royal bulwarks to defend,
Thou saw'st thy tutelar gods in vain descend!
Though chiefs unnumber'd in her cause were
slain,

Though nations perish'd on her bloody plain;
That refuge of perfidious Helen's shame

Was doom'd at length to sink in Grecian flame. And now, by Time's deep ploughshare harrow'd o'er,

The seat of sacred Troy is found no more:
No trace of all her glories now remains!
But corn and vines enrich her cultured plains.

Now known by the name of Micronisi.

Silver Scamander laves the verdant shore;
Scamander oft o'erflow'd with hostile gore!

Not far removed from Ilion's famous land,
In counter view, appears the Thracian strand ;
Where beauteous Hero, from the turret's height,
Display'd her cresset each revolving night;
Whose gleam directed loved Leander o'er
The rolling Hellespont to Asia's shore,
Till, in a fated hour, on Thracia's coast,
She saw her lover's lifeless body tost;
Then felt her bosom agony severe;

Her eyes, sad gazing, pour'd th' incessant tear!
O'erwhelm'd with anguish, frantic with despair,
She beat her beauteous breast and tore her hair-
On dear Leander's name in vain she cried;
Then headlong plunged into the parting tide :
The parting tide received the lovely weight,
And proudly flow'd, exulting in its freight!

Far west of Thrace, beyond th' Ægean main,
Remote from ocean, lies the Delphic plain.
The sacred oracle of Phoebus there
High o'er the mount arose, divinely fair!
Achaian marble form'd the gorgeous pile;
August the fabric! elegant its style!

On brazen hinges turn'd the silver doors;
And checker'd marble paved the polish'd floors.
The roofs, where storied tablature appear'd,
On columns of Corinthian mould were rear'd:
Of shining porphyry the shafts were framed,
And round the hollow dome bright jewels flamed.
Apollo's suppliant priests, a blameless train!
Framed their oblation on the holy fane :
To front the sun's declining ray 'twas placed;
With golden harps and living laurels graced.
The sciences and arts around the shrine
Conspicuous shone, engraved by hands divine!
Here Esculapius' snake display'd his crest,
And burning glories sparkled on his breast;
While, from his eye's insufferable light,
Disease and Death recoil'd, in headlong flight.
Of this great temple, through all time renown'd,
Sunk in oblivion, no remains are found.

Contiguous here, with hallow'd woods o'erspread,

Parnassus lifts to heaven its honour'd head; Where from the deluge saved, by Heaven's com

mand,

Deucalion leading Pyrrha, hand in hand,
Repeopled all the desolated land.

Around the scene unfading laurels grow,
And aromatic flowers for ever blow.
The winged choirs, on every tree above,
Carol sweet numbers through the vocal grove;
While o'er th' eternal spring that smiles bencath,
Young zephyrs borne on rosy pinions breathe.
Fair daughters of the Sun! the sacred Nine,
Here wake to ecstasy their songs divine;
Or crown'd with myrtle in some sweet alcove,
Attune the tender strings to bleeding love;
All sadly sweet the balmy currents roll,
Soothing to softest peace the tortured soul,
While hill and vale with choral voice around
The music of immortal harps resound,

Fair Pleasure leads in dance the happy hours,
Still scattering where she moves Elysian flowers!
Even now, the strains, with sweet contagion
fraught,

Shed a delicious languor o'er the thought

Adieu, ye vales, that smiling peace bestow,
Where Eden's blossoms ever vernal blow!
Adieu, ye streams, that o'er enchanted ground
In lucid maze the Aonian hills surround!
Ye fairy scenes, where Fancy loves to dwell,
And young Delight, for ever, O farewell!
The soul with tender luxury you fill,
And o'er the sense Lethean dews distil!
Awake, O Memory, from th' inglorious dream!
With brazen lungs resume the kindling theme!
Collect thy powers! arouse thy vital fire!
Ye spirits of the storm, my verse inspire!
Hoarse as the whirlwinds that enrage the main,
In torrents pour along the swelling strain!

Now, borne impetuous o'er the boiling deeps,
Her course to Attic shores the vessel keeps :
The pilots, as the waves behind her swell,
Still with the wheeling stern their force repel.
For, this assault should either quarter* feel,
Again to flank the tempest she might reel.
The steersmen every bidden turn apply;
To right and left the spokes alternate fly.
Thus when some conquer'd host retreats in fear,
The bravest leaders guard the broken rear:
Indignant they retire, and long oppose
Superior armies that around them close;
Still shield the flanks, the routed squadrons join,
And guide the flight in one imbodied line.

So they direct the flying bark before
Th' impelling floods, that lash her to the shore.
As some benighted traveller, through the shade,
Explores the devious path with heart dismay'd;
While prowling savages behind him roar,
And yawning pits and quagmires lurk before-
High o'er the poop the audacious seas aspire,
Uproll'd in hills of fluctuating fire.
As some fell conqueror, frantic with success,
Sheds o'er the nations ruin and distress;
So, while the watery wilderness he roams,
Incensed to sevenfold rage the tempest foams;
And o'er the trembling pines, above, below,
Shrill through the cordage howls, with notes of wo.
Now thunders wafted from the burning zone,
Growl from afar, a deaf and hollow groan!
The ship's high battlements, to either side
For ever rocking, drink the briny tide;
Her joints unhinged, in palsied languors play,
As ice dissolves beneath the noontide ray.
The skies asunder torn, a deluge pour;
The impetuous hail descends in whirling shower.
High on the masts, with pale and livid rays,
Amid the gloom portentous meteors blaze.
Th' ethereal dome, in mournful pomp array'd,
Now lurks behind impenetrable shade;
Now, flashing round intolerable light,
Redoubles all the terrors of the night.

Such terrors Sinai's quaking hill o'erspread,

Hark! his strong voice the dismal silence breaks:
Mad chaos from the chains of death awakes!
Loud and more loud the rolling peals enlarge;
And blue on deck their blazing sides discharge;
There, all aghast, the shivering wretches stood;
While chill suspense and fear congeal'd their blood.
Now in a deluge burst the living flame,
And dread concussion rends th' ethereal frame.
Sick Earth, convulsive, groans from shore to shore,
And Nature, shuddering, feels the horrid roar.
Still the sad prospect rises on my sight,
Reveal'd in all its mournful shade and light;
Swift through my pulses glides the kindling fire,
As lightning glances on th' electric wire.
But, ah! the force of numbers strives in vain,
The glowing scene unequal to sustain.

But, lo! at last, from tenfold darkness born,
Forth issues o'er the wave the weeping morn.
Hail, sacred Vision! who, on orient wings,
The cheering dawn of light propitious brings!
All Nature, smiling, hail'd the vivid ray,
That gave her beauties to returning day:
All but our ship, that, groaning on the tide,
No kind relief, no gleam of hope descried.
For now, in front, her trembling inmates see
The hills of Greece emerging on the lee.
So the lost lover views that fatal morn,
On which, for ever from his bosom torn,
The nymph adored resigns her blooming charms,
To bless with love some happier rival's arms.
So to Eliza dawn'd that cruel day
That tore Æneas from her arms away;
That saw him parting never to return,
Herself in funeral flames decreed to burn.
O yet in clouds, thou genial source of light,
Conceal thy radiant glories from our sight!
Go, with thy smile adorn the happy plain, [reign,
And gild the scenes where health and pleasure
But let not here, in scorn, thy wanton beam
Insult the dreadful graudeur of my theme!

While shoreward now the bounding vessel flies,
Full in her van St. George's cliffs arise;
High o'er the rest a pointed crag is seen,
That hung projecting o'er a mossy green.
Nearer and nearer now the danger grows
And all their skill relentless fates oppose;
For, while more eastward they direct the prow,
Enormous waves the quivering deck o'erflow.
While, as she wheels, unable to subdue
Her sallies, still they dread her broaching-to.*
Alarming thought! for now no more a-lee
Her riven side could bear th' invading sea;
And if the following surge she scuds before,
Headlong she runs upon the dreadful shore:
A shore where shelves and hidden rocks abound,
Where Death in secret ambush lurks around.
Far less dismay'd, Anchises' wandering son

When heaven's loud trumpet sounded o'er its Was seen the straits of Sicily to shun:

head.

It seem'd, the wrathful angel of the wind
Had all the horrors of the skies combined;
And here, to one ill-fated ship opposed,
At once the dreadful magazine disclosed.
And lo! tremendous o'er the deep he springs,
Th' inflaming sulphur flashing from his wings!—

When Palinurus, from the helm descried
The rocks of Scylla on his eastern side;

* Broaching-to is a sudden and involuntary movement in navigation, wherein a ship, whilst sailing or scudding before the wind, unexpectedly turns her side to windward. It is generally occasioned by the difficulty of steering her, or by some disaster happening to the The quarter is the hinder part of a ship side; or that machinery of the helm. See the last note of the second part which is near the stern.

Canto.

While in the west, with hideous yawn disclosed,
His onward path Charybdis' gulf opposed.
The double danger as by turns he view'd,
His wheeling bark her arduous track pursued.
Thus while to right and left destruction lies,
Between the extremes the daring vessel flies.
With boundless involution, bursting o'er
The marble cliffs, loud dashing surges roar;
Hoarse through each winding creek the tempest

raves,

And hollow rocks repeat the groan of waves;
Destruction round th' insatiate coast prepares,
To crush the trembling ship, unnumber'd snares.
But haply now she 'scapes the fatal strand,
Though scarce ten fathoms distant from the land;
Swift as the weapon issuing from the bow,
She cleaves the burning waters with her prow;
And forward leaping, with tumultuous haste,
As on the tempest's wing the isle she past.
With longing eyes and agony of mind,
The sailors view this refuge left behind;
Happy to bribe, with India's richest ore,
A safe accession to that barren shore!

When in the dark Peruvian mine confined,
Lost to the cheerful commerce of mankind,
The groaning captive wastes his life away,
For ever exiled from the realms of day;
No equal pangs his bosom agonize,
When far above the sacred light he eyes,
While, all forlorn, the victim pines in vain,
For scenes he never shall possess again.

But now Athenian mountains they descry,
And o'er the surge Colonna frowns on high:
Beside the cape's projecting verge are placed
A range of columns, long by time defaced;
First planted by devotion to sustain,
In elder times, Tritonia's sacred fane.

Foams the wild beach below, with maddening rage,

Where waves and rocks a dreadful combat wage.
The sickly heaven, fermenting with its freight,
Sull vomits o'er the main the feverish weight:
And now, while wing'd with ruin from on high,
Through the rent cloud the ragged lightnings fly,
A flash, quick glancing on the nerves of light,
Struck the pale helmsman with eternal night:
Rodmond, who heard the piteous groan behind,
Touch'd with compassion gazed upon the blind :
And, while around his sad companions crowd,
He guides the unhappy victim to the shroud.
"Hie thee aloft, my gallant friend!" he cries;
"Thy only succour on the mast relies!"—
The helm, bereft of half its vital force,
Now scarce subdued the wild unbridled course:
Quick to th' abandon'd wheel Arion came,
The ship's tempestuous sallies to reclaim.
Amazed he saw her, o'er the sounding foam
Upborne, to right and left distracted roam.
So gazed young Phaeton, with pale dismay,
When, mounted in the flaming car of day,
With rash and impious hand the stripling tried
The immortal coursers of the sun to guide.-
The vessel, while the dread event draws nigh,
Seems more impatient o'er the waves to fly;
Fate spurs her on:-thus issuing from afar,
Advances to the sun some blazing star;
And, as it feels th' attraction's kindling force,
Springs onward with accelerated course.

With mournful look the seamen eyed the strand, Where Death's inexorable jaws expand: Swift from their minds elapsed all dangers past, As, dumb with terror they beheld the last. Now, on the trembling shrouds, before, behind, In mute suspense they mount into the wind.The genius of the deep, on rapid wing, The black eventful moment seem'd to bring; The fatal sisters on the surge before, Yoked their infernal horses to the prore.The steersmen now received their last command, To wheel the vessel sidelong to the strand. Twelve sailors, on the foremast who depend, High on the platform of the top ascend; Fatal retreat! for while the plunging prow Immerges headlong in the wave below, Down-prest by watery weight the bowsprit bends, And from above the stem deep-crushing rends. Beneath her beak the floating ruins lie; The foremast totters, unsustain'd on high: And now the ship, fore-lifted by the sea, Hurls the tall fabric backward o'er the lee; While, in the general wreck, the faithful stay Drags the main topmast from its post away. Flung from the mast, the seamen strive in vain Through hostile floods their vessels to regain; The waves they buffet, till bereft of strength, O'erpower'd they yield to cruel fate at length. The hostile waters close around their head, They sink, for ever, number'd with the dead!

Those who remain, their fearful doom await,
Nor longer mourn their lost companions' fate;
The heart, that bleeds with sorrows all its own,
Forgets the pangs of friendship to bemoan.-
Albert and Rodmond, and Palemon here,
With young Arion, on the mast appear;
E'en they, amid th' unspeakable distress,
In every look distracting thoughts confess;
In every vein the refluent blood congeals;
And every bosom fatal terror feels.
Enclosed with all the demons of the main,
They view'd th' adjacent shore, but view'd in
vain.

Such torments in the drear abodes of hell,
Where sad despair laments with rueful yell,
Such torments agonize the damned breast,
While Fancy views the mansions of the blest.
For Heaven's sweet help, their suppliant cries
implore ;

But Heaven relentless deigns to help no more!
And now, lash'd on by destiny severe,
With horror fraught, the dreadful scene drew near
The ship hangs hovering on the verge of death,
Hell yawns, rocks rise, and breakers roar beneath
In vain, alas! the sacred shades of yore
Would arm the mind with philosophic lore;
In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath,
To smile serene amid the pangs of death.
E'en Zeno's self, and Epictetus old,
This fell abyss had shudder'd to behold.
Had Socrates, for godlike virtue famed,
And wisest of the sons of men proclaim'd,
Beheld this scene of frenzy and distress,
His soul had trembled to its last recess !
O yet confirm my heart, ye Powers above,
This last tremendous shock of Fate to prove;
The tottering frame of Reason yet sustain!
Nor let this total ruin whirl my brain!

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