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"For I thought that God would hear his prayer, I heard the dismal, drowning cries,

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Of their last agony.

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Thomas R. Hervey ward um 1816 in der Nähe von Paisley geboren, erhielt seine Erziehung in Manchester und lebt hier als practischer Jurist. Er veröffentlichte the Poetical Sketch-Book 1835, the Book of Christmas und einzelne Gedichte in Zeitschriften. Seine Poesieen wenn gleich nicht ersten Ranges zeichnen sich durch reiche Phantasie und treffliche Diction sehr vor theilhaft aus.

A Twilight Landscape.

Along the green meadows, when life was in prime,

Oh! come at this hour, love! the daylight is And worshipped its face in the stream:

gone,

And the heavens weep dew on the flowers;
And the spirit of loneliness steals, with a moan,
Through the shade of the eglantine bowers:
For, the moon is asleep on her pillow of clouds,
And her curtain is drawn in the sky;

When our hopes were as sweet, and our life-path
as bright,

And as cloudless, to fancy's young eye,
As the star-spangled course of that phantom of
light,

Along the blue depths of the sky!

And the gale, as it wantons along the young Then come in this hour, love! when twilight has

buds,

Falls faint on the ear like a sigh!

Its shadowy mantle around;

The summer-day sun is too gaudy and bright
For a heart that has suffered like mine;
And, methinks, there were pain, in the noon of Or thy footfall
its light,

To a spirit so broken as thine!
The birds, as they mingled their music of joy,
And the roses that smiled in the beam,
Would but tell us of feelings for ever gone by,
And of hopes that have passed like a dream!
And the moonlight,

pale spirit! would
speak of the time

When we wandered beneath its soft gleam,

--

hung

And no sound, save the murmurs that breathe
from thy tongue,
scarce heard on the ground!
Shall steal on the silence, to waken a fear
When the sun that is gone, with its heat,
Has left on the cheek of all nature a tear,
Then, hearts that are broken should meet!

The Convict Ship.

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Morn on the waters! and purple and bright,
Bursts on the billows the flushing of light!
O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun,
See the tall vessel goes gallantly on:
Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,
And her pennant streams onward, like hope, in
the gale!

The winds come around her, in murmur and song,

And the surges rejoice, as they bear her along!
Upward she points to the golden-edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gaily, aloft in the shrouds !
Onwards she glides, amid ripple and spray,
Over the waters away, and away.
Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part,
Passing away, like a dream of the heart!
Who - as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,
Music around her, and sunshine on high
Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow,
Oh! there be hearts that are breaking, below!
Night on the waves! and the moon is on

high,

Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky;
Treading its depths, in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to
light

Look to the waters, asleep on their breast,
Seems not the ship like an island of rest?
Bright and alone on the shadowy main,
Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate
plain!

--

Who as she smiles in the silvery light,
Spreading her wings on the bosom of night,
Alone on the deep as the moon in the sky,
A phantom of beauty! could deem, with a sigh,
That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin,
And souls that are smitten lie bursting, within!
Who, as he watches her silently gliding,
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,
Hearts that are parted and broken for ever!
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's
grave!

-

"Tis thus with our life, while it passes along, Like a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song: Gaily we glide, in the gaze of the world, With streamers afloat, and with canvass unfurled;

All gladness and glory to wandering eyes, Yet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with sighs?

Fading and false is the aspect it wears,

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Thomas Haynes Bayly ward zu Anfange dieses Jahrhunderts in Bath geboren, and widmete sich, da seine Eltern sehr wohlhabend waren, ganz den schönen Wissenschaften. 1826 verheirathete er sich und nahm seinen Wohnsitz an der Küste von Sussex; 1831 hatte er aber das Unglück sein Vermögen zu verlieren und musste nun von dem Ertrage seiner Feder leben. Er starb 1844 in dürftigen Verhältnissen.

Bayly hat mehrere dramatische Werke wie z. B. Perfection, sold for a Song, The Witness u. A. m., welche sich grossen Erfolges erfreuten, sowie viele prosaische Aufsätze und Erzählungen in Zeitschriften u. s. w. hinterlassen, welche noch eine besondere Sammlung und Herausgabe erwarten. Am Zahlreichsten und Verbreitetsten jedoch sind seine bis jetzt ebenfalls in Journalen verstreuten Lieder, die sich durch reiche Phantasie, warmes Gefühl, glücklichen Humor, Lebendigkeit und gefällige Form höchst vortheilhaft auszeichnen und in ganz England überall gesungen werden.

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