Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave! 10. O sailor boy! wo to thy dream of delight! In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright, Thy parents' tond pressure and love's honied kiss. 11. O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed, and unhonored, down deep in the main Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge! 13. On a bed of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid; Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below. 14. Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul! LESSON CXXX. Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez.*-Cowper. 1. I AM monarch of all I survey, Than reign in this horrible place. The island of Juan Fernandez lies to the west of South America, about three hundred miles from the coast of Chili. Alexander Selkirk, a seaman, a native of Scotland, was put ashore by his captain, and left in this solitary place, where he lived several years. This gave rise to the celebrated romance of Robinson Crusoe. 2. I am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone; Never hear the sweet music of speech; I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain, My form with indifference see: They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me. 3. Society, friendship, and love, Divinely bestowed upon man, Oh had I the wings of a dove, How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows I then might assuage In the ways of religion and truth; Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth 4. Religion! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word! More precious than silver or gold, Or all that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell, Or smiled when a sabbath appear'd. 5. Ye winds that have made me your sport Convey to this desolate shore, Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. 6. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-wing'd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But, alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. 7. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, LESSON CXXXI. The Hermit.-PARNELL. 1. FAR in a wild, unknown to public view, 2. A life so sacred, such serene repose, 3. So, when a smooth expanse receives, imprest Calm nature's image on its wat'ry breast, Down bend the banks; the trees, depending, grow; Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry side; And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun, Banks, trees and skies in thick disorder run. 4. To clear this doubt; to know the world by sight; To find if books or swains report it right; (For yet by swains alone the world he knew, Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew,) * Lair, the bed or couch of a wild beast. + Scallop, a shell, carried by pilgrims in their hat, with which they dipped water to quench their thirst when travelling. 5. The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, And soft, in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. 6. Then near approaching, "Father, hail!" he cry'd: 7. Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, 9. At length 'tis morn; and at the dawn of day, Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste. 10. Then, pleas'd and thankful, from the porch they go; And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe; His cup was vanish'd; for in secret guise, The younger guest purloin'd‡ the glitt❜ring prize. A calm soft wind. † A flower bed. + Purloin, to steal As one who sees a serpent in his way, 11. He stopt with silence, walk'd with trembling heart, And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part: Murm'ring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard, That gen'rous actions meet a base reward. While thus they pass the sun his glory shrouds: The changing skies hang out their sable clouds: A sound in air presag'd approaching rain, And beasts to covert scud across the plain, 12. Warn'd by the signs the wand'ring pair retreat, To seek for shelter in a neighb'ring seat, "Twas built with turrets on a rising ground; And strong and large, and unimprov'd around: Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe, Unkind and griping, caus'd a desert there. 13. As near the miser's heavy doors they drew, 14. At length some pity warm'd the master's breast: ('Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest ;) Slow creaking turns the door, with jealous care, And half he welcomes in the shiv'ring pair. One frugal faggot lights the naked walls, And nature's fervor through their limbs recalls; Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine, (Each hardly granted,) serv'd them both to dine; And when the tempest first appear'd to cease, A ready warning bid them part in peace. 15. With still remark, the pond'ring hermit view'd, In one so rich, a life so poor and rude: "And why should such," within himself he cry'd, When from his vest, the young companion bore |