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The sead was flying athwart the sky,
But the tumult pleased him well:
Or lightly rose and fell, For their broad, damp fins were under the tide, And they lashed, as they passed the vessel's side, And their filmy eyes, all huge and grim, Glared fiercely up, and they glared at him.
Now freshens the gale, and the brave ship goes
Like an uncurbed steed along;
But the ship is fleet and strong;
Wildly she rocks, but he swingeth at ease,
And holds him by the shroud;
And the surging heareth loud.
v. The mariner looked, and he saw, with dread.
A face he knew too well;
Was there a tale to tell ?
A voice calls loud for thee;
Oh, where shall thy burial be?
Alone in the dark, alone on the wave
To buffet the storm alone;
God shield thee, helpless one!
Down, down, where the storm is hushed to sleep,
Where the sea its dirge shall swell; Where the amber-drops for thee shall weep, And the rose-lipped shell its music keep;
There thou shalt slumber well.
The gem and the pearl lie heaped at thy side ;
A peopled home is the ocean-bed;
The mother and child are there :
The babe with its silken hair:
QEORGE CRABBE, the poet, was born in Suffolk, England, December 24th, 1754, and died at Trowbridge, in Wiltshire, February 3d, 1832. He was destined for the medical profession, but his tastes ultimately carried him to that of literature. Among his productions, as a poet, the “Village" and the • Parish Register” are justly accounted the best. In the delineation of character, in minute description of scenes and circumstances, especially those in humble life, he is severely true and touching. His sympathies lay with the poor, the friendless, the unfortunate, and, in his lines, vice and wretchedness are painted in colors too vivid to be without interest to the dullest mind. He war, in truth, what Byron affirmed of him "nature's sternest painter, get the best."
PORTRAIT OF A PEASANT.
Next to these ladies, but in naught allied,
Shame knew him not, he dreaded no disgrace;
Were others joyful, he looked smiling on, And gave allowance where he needed none; Good he refused with future ill to buy, Nor knew a joy that caused reflection's sigh: A friend to virtue, his unclouded breast No envy stung, no jealousy distressed; (Bane of the poor! it wounds their weaker mind To miss one favor which their neighbors find ;) Yet far was he from stoic-pride removed ; He felt humanely, and he warmly loved : I marked his action when his infant died, And his old neighbor for offense was tried ; The still tears, stealing down that furrowed cheek, Spoke pity plainer than the tongue can speak.
If pride were his, 'twas not their vulgar pride, Who, in their base contempt, the great deride; Nor pride in learning, though my clerk agreed, If fate should call him, Ashford might succeed; Nor pride in rustic skill, although we knew None his superior, and his equals few: But, if that spirit, in his soul, had place, It was the jealous pride that shuns disgrace; A pride in honest fame, by virtue gained, In sturdy boys to virtuous labors trained; Pride in the power that guards his country's coast, And all that Englishmen enjoy and boast; Pride in a life that slander's tongue defied, In fact, a noble passion, misnamed pride
GRADUAL APPROACHES OF AGE.
I. Six years had passed, and forty ere the six, When time began to play his usual tricks; The locks, once comely in a virgin's sight, -' Locks of pure brown, displayed the encroaching white; The blood, once fervid, now to cool began, And Time's strong pressure to subdue the man. I rode or walked as I was wont before, But now the bounding spirit was no more; A moderate pace would now my body heat; I walk of moderate length distress my feet.
I showed my stranger guest those hills sublime,
My morning walks I now could bear to lose, And blessed the shower that gave me not to choose, In fact, I felt a languor stealing on; The active arm, the agile hand, were gone; Small daily actions into habits grew, And new dislike to forms and fashions new. I loved my trees in order to dispose; I numbered peaches, looked how stocks arose; Told the same story oft—in short, began to prose!