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His arms were all his own, our Europe's growth, Where lay she had she anchor'd 1-'No, but still Which two worlds bless for civilizing both;

She bore down on us, till the wind grew still.' The musket swung behind his shoulders broad, 'Her flag ?— I had no glass : but fore and aft, And somewhat stoop'd by his marine abode, Egad ! she seem'd a wicked-looking craft.' But brawny as the boar's; and hung beneath, • Arm'd ?'—' I expect so ;--sent on the look-out: Ilis cutlass drooped, unconscious of a sheath, 'Tis time, belike, to put our helm about.' Or lost or worn away ; his pistols were

*About I-Whate'er may have us now in chase, Link'd to his belt, a matrimonial pair

We'll make no running fight, for that were base; (Let not this metaphor appcar a scoff,

We will die at our quarters, like true men.' Though one miss'd fire, the other would go off); 'Ey, ey! for that 'tis all the same to Ben.' These, with a bayonet, not so free froin rust

Does Christian know this ? — Ay; he has piped As when the arm-chest held its brighter trust,

all hands Completed his accoutrements, as Night

To quarters. They are furbishing the stands Surveyed him in his garb heteroclite.

Of arms; and we have got some guns to bear,

And scaled them. You are wanted. That's but XXI.

fair; • What cheer, Ben Bunting ? cried (when in full And if it were not, mine is not the soul view

To leave my comrades helpless on the shoal. Our new acquaintance) Torquil. *Aught of new ?"

My Neuha! ha! and must iny fate pursue Ey, ey l' quoth Ben, 'not new, but news enów;

Not me alone, but one so sweet and true? A strange sail in the offing.'—Sail ! and how?

But whatsoe'er betide, ah, Neuha! now What I could you make her out? It cannot be;

Unman me not; the hour will not allow I've seen no rag of canvas on the sea."

A tear; I'm thine whatever intervenes.' • Belike,' said Ben, you might not from the bay,

*Right,' quoth Ben; 'that will do for the marines. But from the bluff-head, where I watched to-day, I saw her in the doldrums; for the wind

* •That will do for the marines, but the sailors won't

believe it,' is an old saying; and one of the few frag. Was light and baffling - When the sun de. ments of former jealousies which still survive (in jest clined

only) between these gallant services.



But still their weapons in their hands, and still The fight was o'er; the flashing through the gloom

With something of the pride of former will, Which robes the cannon as he wings a tomb,

As men not all unused to meditate, Had ceased; and sulphury vapours upwards driven

And strive much more than wonder at their fate. Had left the earth, and but polluted heaven:

Their present lot was what they had foreseen, The rattling roar which rung in every volley

And dared as what was likely to have been; Had left the echoes to their melancholy;

Yet still the lingering hope, which deem'd their lot No more they shriek'd their horror, boom for boom;

Not pardon'd, but unsought for or forgot, The strife was done, the vanquish'd had their

Or trusted that, if sought, their distant caves doom ;

Might still be miss'd amidst the world of waves, The mutineers were crushed, dispersed, or ta'en,

Had weaned their thoughtsin part from what theysaw Or lived to deem the happiest were the slain.

And felt, the vengeance of their country's law, Few, few escaped, and these were hunted o'er

Their sea-green isle, their guilt-won paradise,

No more could shield their virtue or their vice: The isle they loved beyond their native shore. No further home was theirs, it seem'd, on earth,

Their better feelings, if such were, were thrown Once renegades to that which gave them birth ;

Back on themselves,--their sins remained alone. Track'd like wild beasts, like them they sought the

Proscribed even in their second country, they wild,

Were lost ; in vain the world before them lay: As to a mother's bosom flies the child ;

All outlets seemed secured. Their new allies But vainly wolves and lions seek their den,

Had fought and bled in inutual sacrifice; And still more vainly men escape from men,

But what availed the club and spear, and art

or Hercules, against the sulphury charm. II.

The magic of the thunder, which destroy'd

The warrior ere his strength could be employed ! Beneath a rock whose jutting base protrudes

Dug, like a spreading pestilence, the grave
Far over ocean in its fiercest moods,

No less of human bravery than the brave t*
When scaling his enormous crag the wave
Is hurl'd down headlong like the foremost brave,

* Archidamus, king of Sparta, and son of Agesilates, And falls back on the foaming crowd behind, when he saw a machine invented for the casting or Which fight beneath the banners of the wind,

stones and darts, exclaim'd that it was the 'grare of

valour.' But now at rest, a little remnant drew

The same story has been told of some

knights on the first application of gunpowder; but Together, bleeding, thirsty, faint, and few ; the original anecdote is in Plutarch.


Their own scant numbers acted all the few

The fourth and last of this deserted group Against the many oft will dare and do;

Walk'd up and down-at times would stand, then But though the choice seems native to die free,

Even Greece can boast but one Thermopylæ, To pick a pebble up-then let it drop-
Till now, when she has forged her broken chain Then hurry as in haste-then quickly stop-
Back to a sword, and dies and lives again!

Then cast his eyes on his companions—then

Half whistle half a tune, and pause again--

And then his former movements would redouble, Beside the jutting rock the few appear'd,

With something between carelessness and trouble. Like the last remnant of the red-deer's herd; This is a long description, but applies Their eyes were feverish, and their aspect worn, To scarce five minutes past before his eyes; But still the hunter's blood was on their horn,

But yet what minutes ! Moments like to these
A little stream came tumbling from the height, Rend inen's lives into immortalities.
And straggling into ocean as it might,
Its bounding crystal frolick'd in the ray,

And gush'd from cliff to crag with saltless spray;
Close on the wild, wide ocean, yet a pure

At length Jack Skyscrape, a mercurial man,
And fresh as innocence, and more secure,

Who fluttered over all things like a fan, Its silver torrent glitter'd o'er the deep,

More brave than firm, and more disposed to dare As the shy chamois' eye o'erlooks the steep,

And die at once than wrestle with despair, While far below the vast and sullen swell

Exclaimed, G-d damn!'-those syllables in.

tense, of ocean's Alpine azure rose and sell. To this young spring they rush'd, -all feelings

Nucleus of England's native eloquence,

As the Turk's Allah !' or the Roman's more Absorbed in passion's and in nature's thirst, —

Pagan • Proh Jupiter !' was wont of yore Drank as they do who drink their last, and threw

To give their first impressions such a vent, Their arms aside to revel in its dew;

By way of echo to embarrassment. Cooled their scorched throats, and wash'd the gory

Jack was embarrassed-never hero more, stains

And as he knew not what to say, he swore: Froni wounds whose only bandage might be

Nor swore in vain; the long congenial sound chains

Revived Ben Bunting from his pipe profound; Then, when their drought was quenched, looked

He drew it from his mouth, and looked full wise, sadly round,

But merely added to the oath his eyes; As wondering how so many still were found

Thus rendering the imperfect phrase complete, Alive and setterless :--but silent all,

A peroration I need not repeat.
Each sought his fellow's eyes, as if to call
On him for language which his lips denied,

As though their voices with their cause had died. But Christian of an higher order, stood

Like an extinct volcano in his mood;

Silent, and sad, and savage, --with the trace
Stern, and aloof a little from the rest,

Of passion reeking from his clouded face;
Stood Christian, with his arms across his chest. Till lifting up again his sombre eye,
The ruddy, reckless, dauntless hue once spread It glanced on Torquil, who leaned faintly by
Along his cheek was livid now as lead;

"And is it thus ?' he cried, “unhappy boy! His light brown locks, so graceful in their flow, And thee, too, thee—my madness must destroy Now rose like startled vipers o'er his brow.

He said, and strode to where young Torquil stool, Still as a statue, with his lips comprest

Yet dabbled with his lately flowing blood; To stifle even the breath within his breast,

Seized his hand wistfully, but did not press, Fast by the rock, all menacing, but mute,

And shrunk as fearful of his own caress; He stood; and, save a slight beat of his foot, Inquired into his state ; and when he heard Which deepened now and then the sandy dint The wound was slighter than he deemed or Beneath his heel, his form seemed turn'd to flint.

feared Some paces further Torquil leaned his head

A moment's brightness passed along his brow, Against a bank, and spoke not, but he bled, As much as such a moinert would allow. Not mortally :-his worst wound was within;

"Yes,' he exclaimed, 'we 're taken in the toil, His brow was pale, his blue eyes sunken in,

But not a coward or a common spoil; And blood-drops, sprinkled o'er his yellow hair, Dearly they 've bought us-clearly still may buy,Shewed that his faintness came not from despair And I must fall; but have you strength to Ay? But nature's ebb. Beside him was another,

Twould be some coinfort still could you survive; Rough as a bear, but willing as a brother,

Our dwindled band is now too few to strive.
Ben Bunting, who essayed to wash, and wipe, Oh! for a sole canoe i though but a shell,
And bind his wound-then calmly lit his pipe, To bear you hence to where a hope may dwell
A trophy which survived a hundred fights,

For me, my lot is what I sought; to be,
A beacon which had cheered ten thousand nights. In life or death, the fearless and the free!


Even Christian gazed upon the maid and boy Even as he spoke, around the promontory,

With tearless eye, but yet a gloomy joy Which nodded o'er the billows high and hoary,

Mixed with those bitter thoughts the soul array A dark speck dotted ocean: on it flew

In hopeless visions of our better days, Like to the shadow of a roused sea-mew;

When all's gone-to the rainbow's latest ray, Onward it came-and, lo! a second followed

* And but for me!' he said, and turn'd away; Now seen-now hid-where ocean's vale was hol. Then gazed upon the pair, as in his den lowed ;

A lion looks upon his cubs again; And near, and nearer, till their dusky crew

And then relapsed into his sullen guise,
Presented well-known aspects to the view,

As heedless of his further destinies.
Till on the surf their skimming paddles play,
Buoyant as wings, and fitting through the spray ;-

Now perching on the wave's high curl, and now
Dashed downwards in the thundering foam below, But brief their time for good or evil thought;
Which flings it broad and boiling sheet on sheet,

The billows round the promontory brought And slings its high flakes, shiver'd into sleet;

The plash of hostile oars.-Alas! who made But floating still through surf and swell, drew nigh

That sound a dread? All around them seemed The barks, like small birds through a lowering sky.

array'd Their art seemed nature-such the skill to sweep

Against them, save the bride of Toobonai: The wave of these born playmates of the deep.

She, as she caught the first glimpse o'er the bay

Of the armed boats, which hurried to complete VIII.

The remnant's ruin with their flying feet, And who the first that, springing on the strand,

Beckoned the natives round her to their prows, Leaped like a nereid from her shell to land,

Embarked their guests and launched their light With dark and brilliant skin, and dewy eye

canoes, Shining with love, and hope, and constancy?

In one placed Christian and his comrades twain ; Neuha-the fond, the faithful, the adored

But she and Torquil must not part again. Her heart on Torquil's like a torrent poured ; She fixed liim in her own.-Away! away! And smiled, and wept, and near, and nearer clasped,

They clear the breakers, dart along the bay, As if to be assured 'twas him she grasp'd;

And towards a group of islets, such as bear Shuddered to see his yet warm wound, and then,

The sea-bird's nest and seal's surf-hollow'd lair, To find it trivial, smiled and wept again.

They skin the blue tops of the billows; fast She was a warrior's daughter, and could bear

They flew, and fast their fierce pursuers chased. Such sights, and feel, and mourn, but not despair.

They gain upon them-now they lose again,Her lover lived, -nor foes nor fears couid blight,

Again make way and menace o'er the main ; That full-blown moment in its all delight:

And now the two canoes in chase divide, Joy trickled in her tears, joy filled the sob

And follow different courses o'er the tide, That rocked her heart till almost heard to throb;

To baffle the pursuit.-Away! away! And paradise was breathing in the sighs

As life is on each paddle's flight to-day, Of nature's child in nature's ecstasy.

And more than life or lives to Neuha : Love IX.

Freights the frail bark and urges to the cove; The sterner spirits who beheld that meeting

And now the refuge and the foe are nighWere not unmoved; who are, when hearts are Yet, yet a moment: Fly, thou light ark, fly! greeting?


There shrilly to the passing oar is heard

The startled echo of the ocean bird, WHITE as a white sail on a dusky sea,

Who rears on its bare breast her callow brood, When half the horizon's clouded and half free,

The feather'd fishers of the solitude. Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky,

A narrow segment of the yellow sand Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity.

On one side forms the outline of a strand; Her anchor parts! but still her snowy sail

Here the young turtle, crawling from his shell, Attracts our eye amidst the rudest gale:

Steals to the deep wherein his parents dwell; Though every wave she climbs divides us inore,

Chipp'd by the beam, a nursling of the day, The heart still follows from the loneliest shore.

But hatched for ocean by the fostering ray;

The rest was one bleak precipice, as c'er

Gave mariners a shelter and despair ;
Not distant from the isle of Toobonai,

A spot to make the saved regret the deck A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray,

Which late went down, and envy the lost wreck. The haunt of birds, a desert to mankind,

Such was the stern asylum Neuha chose Where the rough seal reposes from the wind, To shield her lover from his following foes; And sleeps unwieldy in his cavern dun,

But all its secret was not told; she knew Or gambols with huge frolic in the sun:

In this a treasure hidden from the view


Expectant of some token of their prey : Ere the canoes divided, near the spot,

But no-lie had melted from them like the spray. The men that manned what held her Torquil's lot, By her cominand removed, to strengthen more

V. The skiff which wafted Christian from the shore. And where was he the pilgrim of the deep, This he would have opposed; but with a smile Following the nereid ? Had they ceased to weep She pointed calmiy to the craggy isle,

For ever! or, received in coral caves, And bade him 'speed and prosper.' She would take Wrung life and pity from the softening waves! The rest upon herself for Torquil's sake.

Did they with ocean's hidden sovereigns dwell, They parted with this added aid; afar

And sound with mermen the fantastic shell ?
The proa darted like a shooting star,

Did Neuha with the mermaids comb her hair
And gained on the pursuers, who now steerd Flowing o'er ocean as it streamed in air ?
Right on the rock which she and Torquil neared. Or had they perished, and in silence slept
They pulled; her arın, though delicate, was free Beneath the gulf wherein thoy boldly leapt !
And firmi as ever grappled with the sea,
And yielded scarce to Torquil's manlier strength.

The prow now almost lay within its length

Young Neuha plunged into the deep, and he of the crag's steep, inexorable face,

Followed : her track beneath her native sea
With nought but soundless waters for its base; Was as a native's of the element,
Within a hundred boats' length was the foe, So smoothly, bravely, brilliantly she went,
And now what refuge but their frail canoe?

Leaving a streak of light behind her heel,
This Torquil ask'd with half upbraiding eye, Which struck and flashed like an amphibious steel.
Which said- Has Neuha brought me here to dic ? Closely, and scarcely less export to trace
Is this a place of safety, or a grave,

The depths where divers hold the pearl in chase, And yon huge rock the tombstone of the wave ?" Torquil, the nursling of the northern seas,

Pursued her liquid steps with heart and case.

Deep-deeper for an instant Neuha led
They rested on their paddles, and uprose

The way--then upward soared and as she spread Neuha, and pointing to the approaching foes, Her arms, and flung the foam from off her locks, Cried, “Torquil, follow me, and fearless follow I' Laughed, and the sound was answer'd by the rocks, Then plunged at once into the ocean's hollow. They had gained a central realm of earth again, There was no time to pause--the foes were near- But looked for tree, and field, and sky, in vain. Chains in his eye, and menace in his ear;

Around she pointed to a spacious cave, With vigour they pulled on, and as they came, Whose only portal was the keyless wave, * Hailed him to yield, and by his forfeit name.

(A hollow archway by the sun unseen, Headlong he leapt--to him the swimmer's skill Save through the billows' glassy veil of green, Was native, and now all his hope from ill :

In some transparent ocean holiday, But how, or where? He dived, and rose no more ; When all the finny people are at play.) The boat's crew look'd amazed o'er sea and shore. Wiped with her hair the brine from Torquil's eyes, There was no landing on that precipice,

And clapped her hands with joy at his surprise; Steep, harsh, and slippery as a berg of ice.

Led him to where the rock appeared to jut, They watched awhile to see him float again, And forin a something like a Triton's hut; But not a trace rebubbled from the main :

For all was darkness for a space, till day The wave rolled on, no ripple on its face,

Through clefts above let in a sobered ray; Since their first plunge recalled a single trace; As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle The little whirl which eddied, and slight foam, The dusty monuments from light recoil, That whitened o'er what seem'd their latest home, Thus sadly in their refuge submarine White as a sepulchre above the pair

The vault drew half her shadow from thic scene, Who left no marble (mournful as an heir) The quiet proa wavering o'er the tide

VII. Was all that told of Torquil and his bride;

Forth from her bosom the young savagc drew And but for this alone the whole might seem A pine torcli, strongly girded with gnatoo; The vanished phantom of a seaman's dream.

A plantain leaf o'er all, the more to keep They paused and searched in vain, then pulled

Its latent sparkle from the sapping deep. away ;

This mantle kept it dry ; then from a nook Every superstition now forbade their stay.

Of the same plantain-leaf a fint she took, Somne said he had not plunged into the wave,

A few shrunk withered twigs, and froin the blade But vanished like a corpse-light from a grave; Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and thus arrayed Others, that something supernatural Glared in his figure, more than mortal tall ;

* Of this cave (which is no fiction) the original will While all agreed that in his cheek and eye

be found in the ninth chapter Mariner's Account There was a dead hue of eternity.

of the Tonga Islands, I have taken the poetical

liberty to transplant it to Toobonai, the last island Still as their oars receded from the crag,

where any distinct account is left of Christian and his Round every weed a moment would they lag, comrades.

The grot with torchlight. Wide it was and high, Old as eternity, but not outworn
And showed a self-born Gothic canopy;

With each new being born or to be born :*
The arch upreared by nature's architect,

How a young chief, a thousand moons ago, The architrave some earthquake might erect; Diving for turtle in the depths below, The buttress from some mountain's bos om hurid, Had risen, in tracking fast his ocean prey, When the Poles crashed, and water was the Into the cave which round and o'er them lay: world;

How in some desperate feud of aftertime Or hardened from some earth-absorbing fire,

He shelter'd there a daughter of the clime, While yet the globe reeked from its funeral pyre;

A foe beloved, and offspring of a foe,

Saved by his tribe but for a captive's woe;
The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave*
Were there, all scooped by Darkness from her

How, when the storm of war was stilled, he led

His island clan to where the waters spread cave. There, with a little tinge of phantasy,

Their deep green shadow o'er the rocky door,

Then dived-it seemed as if to rise no more: Fantastic faces moped and mowed on high And then a mitre or a shrine would fix

His wondering mates, amazed within their bark, The eye upon its seeming crucifix.

Or deemed him mad, or prey to the blue shark; Thus Nature played with the stalactites,

Rowed round in sorrow the sea-girded rock, And built herself a chapel of the seas.

Then paused upon their paddles from the shock;

When, fresh and springing from the deep, they saw VIII.

A goddess rise—so deemed they in their awe;

And their companion, glorious by her side, And Neuha took her Torquil by the hand,

Proud and exulting in his Mermaid bride: And waved along the vault her kindled brand,

And how, when undeceived, the pair they bore And led him into each recess, and showed The secret places of their new abode.

With sounding conchs and joyous shouts to shore; Nor these alone, for all had been prepared

How they had gladly lived and calmly died, Before, to soothe the lover's lot she shared :

And why not also Torquil and his bride ?

Not mine to tell the rapturous caress The inat for rest; for dress the fresh gnatoo,

Which followed wildly in that wild recess And sandal oil to fence against the dew;

This tale ; enough that all within that cave For food, the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread

Was love, though buried, strong as in the grave Born of the fruit ; for board the plantain spread

Where Abelard, through twenty years of death, With its broad leaf, or turtle-shell which bore

When Eloïsa's forin was lowered beneath A banquet in the flesh it covered o'er;

Their nuptial vault, his arms outstretched and The gourd with water recent from the rill, The ripe banana from the mellow hill;


The kindling ashes to his kindled breast. A pine-torch pile to keep undying light,

The waves without sang round their couch, their And she herself, as beautiful as night,

roar To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the scene,

As inuch unheeded as if life were o'er; And make their subterranean world serene.

Within, their hearts made all their harmony, She had foreseen, since first the stranger's sail

Love's broken murmur and more broken siga.
Drew to their isle, that force or flight might fail,
And formed a refuge of the rocky den

For Torquil's safety from his countrymen.
Each dawn had wafted there her light canoe,

And they, the cause and sharers of the shock. Laden with all the golden fruits that grew;

Which left them exiles of the hollow rock, Each eve had seen her gliding through the liour

Where were they? O'er the sea for life they plied. With all could cheer or deck their sparry bower

To seek from Heaven the shelter men denieil. And now she spread her little store with smiles,

Another course had been their choice-but where! The happiest daughter of the loving isles.

The wave which bore them still their foes would

bear, IX.

Who, disappointed of their former chase,

In search of Christian now renewed their race. She, as he gazed with grateful wonder, pressed Her shelter'd love to her impassion'd breast;

Lager with anger, their strong arms made way,

Like vultures bafiled of their previous prey.
And suited to her soft caresses, told
An olden tale of love,- for love is old,

They gained upon them, all whose safety lay
In some bleak crag or deeply-hidden bay:

This may seem too minute for the general outline (in Mariner's account) from which it is taken. But * The reader will recollect the epigram of the few men have travelled without seeing something of Greek anthology, or its translation into most of the the kind-on land, that is. Without adverting to Ellora, modern languages. in Mungo Park's last journal (if my memory do not err,

Whoe'er thou art, thy master see, here are eight years since I read the book) he

He was, or is, or is to be. mentions having inet with a rock or mountain so + The tradition is attached to the story of Elast, exactly resembling a Gothic cathedral, that only that when her body was lowered into the grave minuté Inspection could convince him that it was a Abelard (who had been buried twenty years, he work of Nature,

opened his arms to receive her -P.673. c. 1

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