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Various and vast, sublime in all its forms,

When lull'd by zephyrs, or when roused by storms (1),
Its colours changing, when from clouds and sun
Shades after shades upon the surface run;
Embrown'd and horrid now, and now serene,
In limpid blue, and evanescent green;
And oft the foggy banks on ocean lie (2),
Lift the fair sail, and cheat th' experienced eye.(3)
Be it the Summer-noon: a sandy space

The ebbing tide has left upon its place;
Then just the hot and stony beach above,
Light twinkling streams in bright confusion move;
(For heated thus, the warmer air ascends,
And with the cooler in its fall contends)—

(1)

["Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark-heaving; - boundless, endless, and sublime -
The image of Eternity- the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone

Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone."

BYRON.]

(2) Of the effect of these mists, known by the name of fog-banks, wonderful and, indeed, incredible relations are given; but their property of appearing to elevate ships at sea, and to bring them in view, is, I believe, generally acknowledged.

(3) [One of the most remarkable facts respecting aërial images, presented itself to Mr. Scoresby, in a voyage to Greenland, in 1822. Having seen an inverted image of a ship in the air, he directed to it his telescope; he was able to discover it to be his father's ship, which was at the time below the horizon. "It was," says he, "so well defined, that I could distinguish, by a telescope, every sail, the general rig of the ship, and its particular character; insomuch, that I confidently pronounced it to be my father's ship, the Fame, which it afterwards proved to be; though, on comparing notes with my father, I found that our relative position at the time gave a distance from one another of very nearly thirty miles, being about seventeen miles beyond the horizon, and some leagues beyond the limit of direct vision."- BREWSTER.]

Then the broad bosom of the ocean keeps
An equal motion; swelling as it sleeps,
Then slowly sinking; curling to the strand,
Faint, lazy waves o'ercreep the ridgy sand,
Or tap the tarry boat with gentle blow,
And back return in silence, smooth and slow.
Ships in the calm seem anchor'd; for they glide
On the still sea, urged solely by the tide :
Art thou not present, this calm scene before,
Where all beside is pebbly length of shore,
And far as eye can reach, it can discern no more?
Yet sometimes comes a ruffling cloud to make
The quiet surface of the ocean shake ;

As an awaken'd giant with a frown

Might show his wrath, and then to sleep sink down.

View now the Winter-storm! above, one cloud, Black and unbroken, all the skies o'ershroud; Th' unwieldy porpoise through the day before Had roll'd in view of boding men on shore; And sometimes hid and sometimes show'd his form, Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm.

All where the eye delights, yet dreads to roam,
The breaking billows cast the flying foam
Upon the billows rising-all the deep

Is restless change; the waves so swell'd and steep,
Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells,
Nor one, one moment, in its station dwells:
But nearer land you may the billows trace,
As if contending in their watery chase;

May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach,
Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch;

Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force,
And then re-flowing, take their grating course,
Raking the rounded flints, which ages past
Roll'd by their rage, and shall to ages last. (1)
Far off the Petrel in the troubled way

Swims with her brood, or flutters in the spray;
She rises often, often drops again,

And sports at ease on the tempestuous main. (2)
High o'er the restless deep, above the reach
Of gunner's hope, vast flights of Wild-ducks stretch;
Far as the eye can glance on either side,
In a broad space and level line they glide;
All in their wedge-like figures from the north,
Day after day, flight after flight, go forth. (3)
In-shore their passage tribes of Sea-gulls urge,
And drop for prey within the sweeping surge;

(1) ["A prospect of the ocean inspires Mr. Crabbe with congenial sublimity. The winter-storm is detailed with a masterly and interesting exactness."-GIFFORD.]

(2) [The storm-petrel is the true Mother Carey's chicken' of the sailors, and also the 'witch,' the 'spency,' the 'storm-finch,' and a variety of other names, the abundance of which shows, that it is at once a bird of common occurrence and of some interest. During its Pelasgic period, it is seen on most parts of the seas, especially those on the north, west, and south-west of Britain, where it is the last bird to leave the outward-bound ship, and the first to meet ships returning home. It plays about the vessels, and outstrips their swiftest course, skimming the surface of the water with equal ease and grace, and tipping so regularly with wings and feet, that she appears to be running on all-fours. The wings do not, however, get wet or splash, and the bird can make wing in any direction of a moderate wind, apparently with very little fatigue.- MUDIE.]

(8) [Wild-ducks fly at a considerable height in the air, and in the form of inclined lines or triangles. When they rest or sleep on the water, some of the band are always awake, to watch for the common safety, and to sound the alarm on the approach of danger Hence they are with difficulty surprised; and hence the fowler, who goes in pursuit of them, requires to exert all his cunning, and frequently no inconsiderable degree of toil and patience. - SHAW.]

Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly

Far back, then turn, and all their force apply,
While to the storm they give their weak complaining

cry;

Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast,
And in the restless ocean dip for rest. (1)

Darkness begins to reign; the louder wind
Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind;
But frights not him, whom evening and the spray
In part conceal-yon Prowler on his way:
Lo! he has something seen; he runs apace,
As if he fear'd companion in the chase;
He sees his prize, and now he turns again,
Slowly and sorrowing-" Was your search in vain?"
Gruffly he answers, ""T is a sorry sight!

"A seaman's body: there'll be more to-night!" Hark! to those sounds! they're from distress at

sea:

How quick they come! What terrors may there be !
Yes, 't is a driven vessel: I discern

Lights, signs of terror, gleaming from the stern;
Others behold them too, and from the town
In various parties seamen hurry down;

(1) [Water-fowl, in a peculiar manner, discover, in their flight, some determined aim. They eagerly coast the river, or return to the sea; bent on some purpose of which they never lose sight. But the evolutions of the gull appear capricious, and undirected, both when she flies alone and in large companies. The more, however, her character suffers as a loiterer, the more it is raised in picturesque value, by her continuing longer before the eye and displaying, in her elegant sweeps along the air, her sharp-pointed wings and her bright silvery hue. She is beautiful, also, not only on the wing, but when she floats, in numerous assemblies, on the water; or when she rests on the shore, dotting either one or the other with white spots; which, minute as they are, are very picturesque. — GILPIN.]

Their wives pursue, and damsels urged by dread,
Lest men so dear be into danger led;

Their head the gown has hooded, and their call
In this sad night is piercing like the squall;
They feel their kinds of power, and when they meet,
Chide, fondle, weep, dare, threaten, or intreat.

"No!

See one poor girl, all terror and alarm,
Has fondly seized upon her lover's arm;
"Thou shalt not venture;" and he answers
"I will not❞—still she cries, "Thou shalt not go."
No need of this; not here the stoutest boat
Can through such breakers, o'er such billows float,
Yet may they view these lights upon the beach,
Which yield them hope, whom help can never reach,
From parted clouds the moon her radiance throws
On the wild waves, and all the danger shows;
But shows them beaming in, her shining vest,
Terrific splendour! gloom in glory dress'd!
This for a moment, and then clouds again

Hide every beam, and fear and darkness reign. (1)
But hear we now those sounds?
Do lights

appear?

I see them not! the storm alone I hear:

(1) ["The signals of distress are heard - the inhabitants of the Borough crowd to the strand; but the boisterousness of the sea precludes all possibility of affording assistance to the crew of the distressed vessel observes the poet, in lines of dreadful meaning, —

'Yet may they view those lights upon the beach,

Which yield them hope, whom help can never reach.'

Yet,'

The sudden appearance of the moon, breaking at such a moment from a cloud over the tempestuous waste, is superlatively described. The m posing tumult of these scenes scarcely permits us to remark how finely in these passages the grandeur of the subject is supported by that of the verse." GIFFORD.]

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