"THEY tell me 'tis decided you depart :

'Tis wise-'tis well, but not the less a pain ; I have no further claim on your young heart, Mine is the victim, and would be again : To love too much has been the only art

I used; I write in haste, and if a stain

Be on this sheet, 'tis not what it appears;

My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears.

66

I loved, I love you, for this love have lost

State, station, heaven, mankind's, my own esteem, And yet cannot regret what it hath cost,

So dear is still the memory of that dream;
Yet, if I name my guilt, 'tis not to boast,

None can deem harshlier of me than I deem :
I trace this scrawl because I cannot rest--
I've nothing to reproach or to request.

"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,

"Tis woman's whole existence; man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart; Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange

Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart,

And few there are whom these cannot estrange; Men have all these resources, we but one, To love again, and be again undone.

"You will proceed in pleasure, and in pride, Beloved and loving many; all is o'er

For me on earth, except some years to hide

My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core : These I could bear, but cannot cast aside

The passion which still rages as before,And so farewell-forgive me, love me—No, That word is idle now-but let it go.

"My breast has been all weakness, is so yet;
But still I think I can collect my mind;
My blood still rushes where my spirit's set,
As roll the waves before the settled wind;
My heart is feminine, nor can forget-

To all, except one image, madly blind;
So shakes the needle, and so stands the pole,
As vibrates my fond heart to my fix'd soul.

"I have no more to say, but linger still, And dare not set my seal upon this sheet, And yet I may as well the task fulfil,

My misery can scarce be more complete : I had not lived till now, could sorrow kill;

[meet,

Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would

And I must even survive this last adieu,

And bear with life, to love and pray for you!"

From THE SAME.-CANTO II.

THE ship, call'd the most holy " Trinidada,"
Was steering duly for the port Leghorn;
For there the Spanish family Moncada

Were settled long ere Juan's sire was born:
They were relations, and for them he had a
Letter of introduction, which the morn
Of his departure had been sent him by
His Spanish friends for those in Italy.

His suite consisted of three servants and
A tutor, the licentiate Pedrillo,
Who several languages did understand,

But now lay sick and speechless on his pillow,
And, rocking in his hammock, long'd for land,
His headache being increased by every billow;
And the waves oozing through the port-hole made
His berth a little damp, and him afraid.

'Twas not without some reason, for the wind
Increased at night, until it blew a gale ;

And though 'twas not much to a naval mind,
Some landsmen would have look'd a little pale,
For sailors are, in fact, a different kind:

At sunset they began to take in sail,

For the sky show'd it would come on to blow,
And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so.

At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift

Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea,
Which struck her aft, and made an awkward rift,
Started the stern-post, also shatter'd the
Whole of her stern-frame, and, ere she could lift
Herself from out her present jeopardy,

The rudder tore away: 'twas time to sound
The pumps, and there were four feet water found.

One gang of people instantly was put

Upon the pumps, and the remainder set
To get up part of the cargo, and what not;
But they could not come at the leak as yet;
At last they did get at it really, but

Still their salvation was an even bet:

The water rush'd through in a way quite puzzling,

While they thrust sheets, shirts, jackets, bales of muslin,

Into the opening; but all such ingredients

Would have been vain, and they must have gone Despite of all their efforts and expedients, [down,

But for the pumps : I'm glad to make them known To all the brother tars who may have need hence,

For fifty tons of water were upthrown

By them per hour, and they all had been undone,
But for the maker, Mr. Mann, of London.

As day advanced the weather seem'd to abate,
And then the leak they reckon❜d to reduce,
And keep the ship afloat, though three feet yet
Kept two hand and one chain-pump still in use.
The wind blew fresh again: as it
A squall came on, and while some guns
broke loose,
A gust-which all descriptive power transcends—
Laid with one blast the ship on her beam ends.

grew late

There she lay, motionless, and seem'd upset ;

The water left the hold, and wash'd the decks, And made a scene men do not soon forget;

For they remember battles, fires, and wrecks, Or any other thing that brings regret,

Or breaks their hopes, or hearts, or heads, or necks; Thus drownings are much talk'd of by the divers, And swimmers, who may chance to be survivors.