A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

(avery) #1
Tss island lies nine leagues away,
Along ita 10litary shore,
Of er~~ggy rock and aandy bay,
No 10und b1.1t ocean's roar,
Save, where the bold, wild eea·bird m&kes 'her hme.;
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling fOCWJ.

But when the light winds lie at rest,
A..nrl on the g!asay, heaving aea,
The black duck, with her gloaey breast,
Bite awiuging silently ;
How beautiful! no ripplea break the reach,
And ailvery waves go noiaeleaa up the beach.

.And inland rests the ~en, warm dell ;
The brook comes tinkling down ite aide:
From.out the treea the Sabbath-bell
Ringa cheerful, CAr and wi.de,
Mingling ita eonnda with bleatinga of the ftocb,
That feed about the vale amongst the rocks.
R. H. DAJJA..

lREXEKBD,
Two miles on thia aide orthe fort, the road
Crosaes a deep ravine: 'tia rough and narrow,
And winds w1th short turns down tbe precipice ;
And in ita depths thel'6 is a mighty rook,
Which has, from unimaginable ye.ra,
Suetain'd itself lll'ith terror nnd with t4>ll
Over a gulf, and with the agony
With whicll it clings, eeems ~owly coming down;
Even as a wretched soul. hour after hour,
Cli.ngs to the mag of life; yet clinging, leans,
And, leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss
In which it fears to full, Beneath this crag,
Huge aa despair, as if in wearineas,
The melancholy mountain yawns. BeloW',
You hear, but see not, an impetuoua torrent

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