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Till like the mine, in whose infernal cell
As o'er the surge the stooping mainmast hung, Still on the rigging thirty seamen clung: Some, struggling, on a broken crag were cast, And there, by oozy tangles, grappled fast : A while they bore th' o'erwhelming billows' rage, Unequal combat with their fate to wage; Till, all benumb'd and feeble, they forego Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below.
JOHN LOGAN. 1748-1788.
ODE TO THE CUCKOO.
Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!
Thou messenger of spring!
And woods thy welcome sing.
Thy certain voice we hear;
Or mark the rolling year?
I hail the time of flowers,
From birds among the bowers.
To pull the primrose gay,
And imitates thy lay.
What time the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou fliest thy vocal vale,
Another Spring to hail.
Thy sky is ever clear;
No winter in thy year!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Companions of the Spring.
Har. 'Tis midnight dark : 'tis silence deep, My father's house is hush'd in sleep; In dreams the lover meets his bride, She sees her lover at her side ; The mourner's voice is now suppressid, A while the weary are at rest : 'Tis midnight dark; 'tis silence deep; I only wake, and wake to weep. The window's drawn, the ladder waits, I spy no watchman at the gates ; No tread re-echoes through the hall, No shadow moves along the wall. I am alone. 'Tis dreary night, Oh come, thou partner of my fight! Shield me from darkness, from alarms; Oh, take me trembling to thine arms !
The dog howls dismal in the heath,
Ah me! disaster's in the sound !
Hen. I come, I come, my love! my life!
Har. I fear to go-I dare not stay.
Hen. No evil ever shall betide
Har. Still beats my bosom with alarms:
I leave a mother bathed in tears;
Hen. My Harriet, dissipate thy fears, And let a husband wipe thy tears; For ever join'd our fates combine, And I am yours and you are mine. The fires the firmament that rend, On this devoted head descend, If e'er in thought from thee I rove, Or love thee less than now I love! Although our fathers have been foes, From hatred stronger, love arose ; From adverse briers that threat'ning stood, And threw a horror o'er the wood, Two lovely roses met on high, Transplanted to a better sky; And, grasted in one stock, they grow, In union spring, in beauty blow.
Har. My heart believes my love ; but still My boding mind presages ill: For luckless ever was our love, Dark as the sky that hung above. While we embraced, we shook with fears, And with our kisses mingled tears ; We met with murmurs and with sighs, And parted still with watery eyes.
An unforeseen and fatal hand
Hen. Oh, do not wound that gentle breast, Nor sink, with fancied ills oppress'd; For softness, sweetness, all, thou art, And love is virtue in thy heart. That bosom ne'er shall heave again But to the poet's tender strain; And never more these eyes o'erflow But for a hapless lover's wo. Long on the ocean tempest-toss'd, At last we gain the happy coast; And safe recount upon the shore Our sufferings past, and dangers o'er: Past scenes; the woes we wept erewhile Will make our future minutes smile : When sudden joy from sorrow springs, How the heart thrills through all its strings!
Har. My father's castle springs to sight; Ye towers, that gave me to the light! Oh hills ! oh vales! where I have play'd; Ye woods, that wrap me in your shade! Oh scenes I've often wander'd o'er! Oh scenes I shall behold no more! I take a long, last, lingering view : Adieu! my native land, adieu ! Oh father, mother, brother dear! Oh names still utter'd with a tear! Upon whose knees I've sat and smiled, Whose griefs my blandishments beguiled;