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Stormy and wrathful as the swelling surge,
The mates the seamen to the barges urge,
Whose boatmen leaning on the rested oar,
In secret chide their comrades on the shore.
And thus, a young Lieutenant of the deep,
Hampden-rebukes the warriors as they weep. 245
For flippant talk more noted than for sense,
Invulnerable in his impudence,

His wit on others' woes he lov'd to whet,
And ran an Indian muck at all he met.

Are these our brave Columbians? mournful sight!
Hanging their blubber'd cheeks in languid plight—
List'ning like dotards to the honey'd tongue

Of woman-with false vows of fealty hung.
The sex reprisals love, and will retort

The joke that "Tars find wives in ev'ry port." 255
To whom an aged matron, at whose side

A daughter hung, a sailor's weeping bride—
Shame on you, youth-jangling your hanger's chain,
To jest when woe and wretchedness complain.
Wed but some virtuous maid--you will remove 260
Your doubts, and think more nobly of our love.

When Hampden thus-if memory do not fail,
You are the dame who once approv'd my hail,
When landing from a cruize on yonder pier,
I chink'd a purse of dollars in your ear,

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And ask'd you in a kind and coaxing way,
Where liv'd the likely lasses on the bay.

Shameless of front-the anger'd dame replies,
Whene'er thou speak'st-a reputation dies--
Repress that laugh-aye, hasten from my view,
Stain of the navy, stigma of thy crew.

XIX.

275

Now the tall ship the sailor-train ascend,
And o'er the capstan-bars incumbent bend,
Heaving they shout, and from its oozy bed,
The ponderous anchor slowly lifts its head.
The haulers sing, and through the glowing hand
The braces glide, the wheeling sails expand.
Crowds from the town, the hamlet, cot, and grange,
Blacken the sea-shore to the billow's range-
Their cries ascend, their tender shrieks revive, 280
The rocks, the pier, the tall cliffs seem alive.
Our ship is cast,* and as she seaward steers,
Sinkings of heart, and sighs, and smiles, and tears

Casting a ship is, when her anchor first loosens, she is placed in a position for her sails to fill.

By turns hold sway-our flapping topsails swell,
And hands uplifted waft a long farewell.
Glorious our vessel glides-in deep array,
Her frown terror o'er the watery way.
Deep meshy outworks all her rear invest,"
And on her beak a Virgin stands confest,
Who to the eye reveal'd, by carver wrought,

guns

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290

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A breast that swell'd with soul, a brow that thought.
Resting her sandal'd feet, the Nymph display'd
Her graceful form, and the blue deep survey'd.
Some would have judg'd her from the sea to rise,
On our prow lighted to invoke the skies,
But with the Cyprian Queen she claim'd no kin,
Her look could never light a face of sin.
No wanton Cupids round her arm entwine,
And fondly strive to kiss her hand divine.
Hence ye impure! from Greece the Virgin stray'd,
From Corinth's citadel-that royal maid
Whose succouring arm, as ancient bards relate,
Snatch'd young Orestes from disastrous fate,
His throne redeem'd, and gave to funeral flame
The base usurper, and the perjur'd dame.†

305

Deep meshy outworks-a periphrasis for boarding-nettings.

+ See the Electra of Sophocles.

XX.

High on the deck the gallant sailors stand,
And look a tender farewell to the land;

They mark the spot where lingering they delay'd
Their last embrace, ere yet they anchor weigh'd.
White curl the waves, our ship with spreading sail
Smooth as a falcon hangs upon the gale,
The peopled shore, the beacon fainter shew,
And all is sky above, and ocean all below.

XXI.

O land receding, land belov'd, rever'd,
By ev'ry tie that binds the heart endear'd,
Columbia's shores fast fading on the eye,
To you I breathe my deep, my farewell sigh.
Fam'd for true freedom, but for pity more,
Exiles from ev'ry clime embrace your shore-
Warsaw's defender, and the gallant host

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From Gaul-where Virtue mourns her empire lostthe persecuted victims roam,

To

you

Redress their hearths, and find a sylvan home.

XXII.

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And I who sought and found a wild retreat
Where thy Ontario's sea-like billows beat,
In all the turbulence of ocean's roar,
Whelming the bark unconscious of a shore—
Now leave my bower of peace-on wild waves tost,
And spread the sail for Albion's distant coast-
But not unblest-a bright'ning, sunny ray
Gilds the horizon of my wintry day—

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A consort's care, an infant daughter's smile
Sustain my spirit, and my griefs beguile :—
These heart-twin'd objects o'er the deep I bear,
With pious hope, but not unmix'd with fear,
To realms remote-O God, be thou their guide,
Vouchsafe to guard them through the storm and tide.

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