OH! BE SOME SIGNAL VENGEANCE FOUND. Oh! be some signal vengeance found, Who with remorseless bosom parts His country's scorn, in lasting shame- Who thus degrading manhood's name, THE FAVOURABLE GALE. When a ship is full freighted with silver and gold, afe stowed in her cabin. her lockers, and hold; er bottom quite sound and her rigging all right, low charming to gaze on so glorious a sight; et what will her bottom or rigging avail, nless she be blest with a favourable gale? Then a mill is replenished with sacks of rich corn, he produce of the fields which fair Britain adorn; he miller, too, waiting for many an hour, grind the grown grain in fine bolted flour; or every wind though the mill has a sail, hey're nought if unblessed with a favouring gale. THE TRAVELLER'S RETURN. Sweet to the morning traveller Where, twinkling in the dewy light, And cheering to the traveller And when, beneath the unclouded sun, And flowing water makes to him A pleasing melody. And when the evening light decays, There is sweet music to his ear In the distant sheep-bells' sound. But, oh; of all delightful sounds, The sweetest is the voice of love HENRY AND LOUISA. No more the trumpet's martial sound His warlike toils are ceas'd and o'er, He welcomes peace, with joy once more, His constant love, with virtue blessed, Louisa was the happy maid, JOE OF THE BELL. Around the face of blue-eyed Sue "You keep the bar," says Joe, "my dear, But be obliging, Sue-d'ye hear? And prove to all who love good cheer, A London rider chanced to slip Behind the bar to dine, And found sweet Susan's yielding lip "Heyday," says Sue, "what's this I trow? You bade me be obliging, Joe; He's welcome to the Bell." O, THE ACCENTS OF LOVE. O, the accents of Love. can they ever again Speak peace to the desolate soul; When o'er my life's lore the deep floods of the main Now darkly and mournfully roll ? O, no, let them search in Algernon's grave, Would they learn where my heart is entombed; Let them pierce to those chambers beneath the dark wave No sun beam hath ever illumined. But let them not hope to revive it with sighs, "Twill mock their endeavours, for buried it lies, With fathomless waters above. THE ANCHOR SMITHS. Like Ætna's dread volcano, see the ample forge, Large heaps upon large heaps of jetty fuel gorge, While, Salamander like, the ponderous anchor lies, Glutted with vivid fire, through all its pores it flies. The dingy anchorsmiths to renovate their strength. Stretch'd out in death like sleep, all snoring at their length, Waiting the master's signal when the tackle's .foree, Shall, like split rocks, the anchor from the fire di vorce. hile as old Vulcan's Cyclops did the anvil hang, deafning concert shall their ponderous ham mers clang, id into symmetry the mass incongruous beat, save frem adverse winds and waves, the gal. lant British fleet. w. as more vivid and intense each splinter flies, e temper of the fire the skilful master tries; d as the dingy hae assumes a brilliant red, e beated anchor fees that fire on which it fed, e huge sledge hammers round in order they [change a range, id waking anchorsmiths await the look'd for nging with all their force the aident mass to smite, [white, hen issuing from the fire array'd in dazzling d as old Vulcan's Cyclops did the anvil bang, make in concert rude their ponderous hammers clang, the mis shapen lump to symmetry they beat, save from adverse winds and waves the gal. lant British fleet. e preparations thicken; with forks the fire they goad, [lows load, d now twelve anchorsmiths the heaving bel ile arm'd from every danger, and grim array, xious as howling demons waiting for their prey. forge the anchor yields from out its fiery maw, ich, on the anvil prone, the cavern shouts burra, d the scorch'd beholders want the power to gaze, Ent with its heat, and dazzled with its power. ful rays. |