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And then relapsed into his sullen guise, As heedless of his further destinies.

X.

But brief their time for good or evil thought;
The billows round the promontory brought
The splash of hostile oars.-Alas! who made
That sound a dread 2 All round them seem'd array'd
Against them, save the bride of Toobonai:
She, as she caught the first glimpse o'er the bay
Of the arm'd boats, which hurried to complete
The remnant's ruin with their flying feet,
Beckon'd the natives round her to their prows,
Embark'd their guests, and launch'd their light

canoes,
In ole placed Christian and his comrades twain;
Boit she and Torquil must not part again.
She fix'd him in her own.—Away! away !
They clear the breakers, dart along the bay,
And towards a group of islets, such as bear
The sea-bird's nest and seal's surf-hollow'd lair,
They skim the blue tops of the billows; fast
They flew, and fast their fierce pursuers chased.
They gain upon them—now they lose again, -
Again make way and menace o'er the main ;
And now the two canoes in chase divide,
And follow different courses o'er the tide,
To baffle the pursuit.—Away ! away !
As life is on each paddle's flight to-day,
And more than life or lives to Neuha : Love
Freights the frail bark and urges to the cove—
And now the refuge and the foe are nigh—
Yet, yet a moment l—Fly, thou light ark, fly!

CANTO IV.

I. WHITE as a white sail on a dusky sea, When half the horizon's clouded and half free Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity. Her anchor parts, but still her snowy sail Attracts our eye amid the rudest gale; Though every wave she climbs divides us more, The heart still follows from the loneliest shore.

II. Not distant from the isle of Toobonai, A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray, The haunt of birds, a desert to mankind, Where the rough seal reposes from the wind, And sleeps unwieldy in his cavern dun, Or gambols with huge frolic in the sun : There shrilly to the passing oar is heard The startled echo of the ocean bird, Who rears on its bare breast her callow brood, The feather'd fishers of the solitude. A narrow segment of the yellow sand On one side forms the outline of a strand Here, the young turtle, crawling from his shell Steals to the deep wherein his parents dwell; Chipp'd by the beam, a nursling of the day, But hatch'd for ocean by the fostering ray; The rest was one bleak precipice, as eler

A spot to make the saved regret the deck
Which late went down, and envy the lost wreck
Such was the stern asylum Neuha chose
To shield her lover from his following foes;
But all its secret was not told; she knew
In this a treasure hidden from the view.

III. Ere the canoes divided, near the spot, The men that mann'd what held her Torquil's lot, But her command removed, to strengthen more The skiff which wafted Christian from the shore. This he would have opposed; but with a smile She pointed calmly to the craggy isle, And bade him “speed and prosper.” She would taki The rest upon herself for Torquil's sake. They parted with this added aid; afar The proa darted like a shooting star, And gain’d on the pursuers, who now steer'd Right on the rock which she and Torquil near'd. They pull'd ; her arm, though delicate, was free And firm as ever grappled with the sea, And yielded scarce to Torquil's manlier strength. The prow now almost lay within its length Of the crag's steep, inexorable face, With nought but soundless waters for its base; Within a hundred boats' length was the foe, And now what refuge but their frail canoe This Torquil ask'd with half upbraiding eye, Which said—“Has Neuha brought me here to die Is this a place of safety, or a grave, And yon huge rock the tombstone of the wave?"

IV. They rested on their paddles, and uprose Neuha, and pointing to the approaching foes, Cried, “Torquil, follow me, and fearless follow' Then plunged at once into the ocean's hollow. There was no time to pause—the foes were nearChains in his eyes, and menace in his ear; With vigor they pull'd on, and as they came, Hail'd him to yield, and by his forfeit name. Headlong he leapt—to him the swimmer's skill Was native, and now all his hope from ill: But how, or where He dived, and rose no more; The boat's crew look'd amazed o'er sea and shore. There was no landing on that precipice, Steep, harsh, and slippery as a berg of ice. They watch'd awhile to see him float again, But not a trace rebubbled from the main : The wave roll'd on, no ripple on its face, Since their first plunge recall'd a single trace; The little whirl which eddied, and slight foam, That whiten’d o'er what scem'd their latest home, White as a sepulchre above the pair Who left no marble (mournful as an heir) The quiet proa wavering o'er the tide Was all that told of Torquil and his bride; And but for this alone the whole might seem The vanish'd phantom of a seaman's dream. They paused and search'd in vain, then pull'd arey Even superstition now forbade their stay. Some said he had not plung'd into the wave, But vanish'd like a corpse-light from a grave, Others, that something supernatural Glared in his figure, more than mortal tall; While all agreed that in his check and eye

Gave mariners a shelter and despair;

There was a dead hue of eter nity

Stilt as , i.eir oars receded from the crag,
Round every weed a moment would they lag,
Expectant of some token of their prey;
but no—he had melted from them like the spray.

V. And where was he, the pilgrim of the deep, Following the nereid Had they ceased to weep For ever ? or, received in coral caves, Wrung life and pity from the softening waves 2 Did they with ocean's hidden sovereigns dwell, And sound with mermen the fantastic shell ? Did Neuha with the mermaids comb her hair, Flowing o'er ocean as it stream'd in air Or had they perish'd, and in silence slept Beneath the gulf wherein they boldly leapt *

VI. Young Neuha plunged into the deep, and he Follow'd : her track beneath her native sea Was as a native's of the element, So smoothly, bravely, brilliantly she went, Leaving a streak of light behind her heel, Which struck and flashed like an amphibious steel. Closely, and scarcely less expert to trace The depths where divers hold their pearl in chase, Torquil, the nursling of the northern seas, Pursued her liquid steps with heart and ease. Deep—deeper for an instant Neuha led The way—then upward soar'd—and as she spread Her arms, and flung the foam from off her locks, Laugh'd, and the sound was answer'd by the rocks. They had gain’d a central realm of earth again, But look'd for tree, and field, and sky, in vain. Around she pointed to a spacious cave, Whose only portal was the keyless wave," (A hollow archway by the sun unseen, Save through the billows' glassy veil of green, In some transparent ocean holiday, When all the finny people are at play,) Wiped with her hair the brine from Torquil's eyes, And clapp'd her hands with joy at his surprise ; Led him to where the rock appear'd to jut, And form a something like a Triton's hut; For all was darkness for a space, till day Through clefts above let in a sober'd ray; As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle The dusty monuments from light recoil, Thus sadly in their refuge submarine The vault drew half her shadow from the scene.

VII.

Forth from her bosom the young savage drew
A pine torch, strongly girded with gnatoo;
A plantain-leaf o'er all, the more to kcep
Its latent sparkle from the sapping deep.
This mantle kept it dry; then from a nook
Of the same plantain-leaf a flint she took,
A few shrunk wither'd twigs, and from the blade
Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and thus array'd
The grot with torchlight. Wide it was and high,
And show'd a self-born Gothic canopy;
The arch uprear'd by nature's architect,
The architrave some earthquake might erect:

* of this cave (which is no fiction) the original will be found in the ninth rapter of “Marner's Account of the Tonga Islands." I have taken the oxal illerty to transplant it to Toobonai, the last islaud where any distinct wount is kit of Chrisuu, and his comrades.

The buttress from some mountain's bosom hurled,
When the Poles crash'd, and water was the world;
Or harden'd from some earth-aboding fire,
While yet the globe reek'd from its funeral pyre;
The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave,"
Were there, all scoop'd by Darkness from her cave
There, with a little tinge of fantasy,
Fantastic faces mop'd and mow'd on high,
And then a mitre and a shrine would fix
The eye upon its seeming crucifix.
Thus Nature play'd with the stalactites,
And built herself a chapel of the seas

VIII. And Neuha took her Torquil by the hand. And waved along the vault her kindled brand, And led him into each recess, and show'd The secret places of their new abode. Nor these alone, for all had been prepared Before, to sooth the lover's lot she shared: The mat for rest; for dress the fresh gnatoo, And sandal-oil to fence against the dew; For food the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread Born of the fruit; for board the plantain spread With his broad leaf, or turtle-shell he bore A banquet in the flesh it cover'd o'er; The gourd with water recent from the rill, The ripe banana from the mellow hill; A pine torch-pile to keep undying light. And she herself, as beautiful as night, To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the scene And make their subterranean world serene. She had foreseen, since first the stranger's sail Drew to their isle, that force or flight might fail. And form'd a refuge of the rocky den For Torquil's safety from his countrymen. Each dawn had wafted there her light canoe Laden with all the golden fruits that grew; Each eve had seen her gliding through the hour With all could cheer or deck their sparry bower; And now she spread her little store with smiles, The happiest daughter of the loving isles.

IX. She, as he gazed with grateful wonder, press'd Her shelter'd love to her impassion'd breast; And suited to her soft caresses, told An olden tale of love, for love is old, Old as eternity, but not outworn With each new being born or to be born : T How a young chief, a thousand moons ago, Diving for turtle in the depths below, Had risen, in tracking fast his ocean prey, Into the cave which round and o'er them lay; How in some desperate feud of after time, He shelter'd there a daughter of the clime. A foe beloved, and offspring of a foe, Saved by his tribe but for a captive's wo; How, when the storm of war was still'd, he led His island clan to where the waters spread

* This may seem too minute for the general outline (in Mariner's Accoung from which it is taken. But few inen have travelled without seeing son rething of the kind—on land, that is. Without adverting to Ellora, in Murga Park's last journal, (if my memory do not err, for there are eight years ance I read the book, he mentions having met with a rock or mountain so exactly resembling a Gothic cathedral, that only a minute inspection could convince him that it was a work of nature.

t The realer will recollect the epigram of the Greek anthology, or is translation into most of the modern languages:

“Whoe'er thou art, thy master see,
He was or is, or is to two "

Their deep green shadow o'er the rocky door,
Then dived—it seem'd as if to rise no more :
His wondering mates, amazed within their bark,
Or deem'd him mad, or prey to the blue shark;
Row'd down in sorrow the sea-girded rock,
Then paused upon their paddles from the shock;
When, fresh and springing from the deep, they saw
A goddess rise—so deem'd they in their awe;
And their companion, glorious by her side,
Proud and exulting in his mermaid bride;
And how, when undeceived, the pair they bore
With sounding conchs and joyous shouts to shore;
How they had gladly lived and calmly died,—
And why not also Torquil and his bride :
Not mine to tell the rapturous caress
Which follow'd wildly in that wild recess.
This tale; enough that all within that cave
Was love, though buried strong as in the grave
Where Abelard, through twenty years of death,
When Eloisa's form was lower'd beneath
Their nuptial vault, his arms outstretch'd, and
press'd
The kindling ashes to his kindled breast.*
The waves without sang round their couch, their roar
As much unheeded as if life were o'er ;
Within, their hearts made all their harmony,
Love's broken murmur and more broken sigh.

X. And they, the cause and sharers of the shock Which left them exiles of the hollow rock, Where were they O'er the sea for life they plied, To seek from Heaven the shelter men denied. Another course had been their choice—but where 2 The wave which bore them still their foes would bear, Who disappointed of their former chase, In search of Christian now renew'd their race. Eager with anger, their strong arms made way Like vultures baffled of their previous prey. They gain'd upon them, all whose safety lay In some bleak crag or deeply-hidden bay: No further chance or choice remain'd; and right For the first further rock which met their sight They steer'd, to take their latest view of land, And yield as victims, or die sword in hand; Dismiss'd the natives and their shallop, who Would still have battled for that scanty crew; But Christian bade them seek their shore again, Nor add a sacrifice which were in vain; For what were simple bow and savage spear Against the arms that must be wielded here 2

XI.

They landed on a wild but narrow scene,
Where few but Nature's footsteps yet had been;
Prepared their arms, and with that gloomy eye,
Stern and sustain'd of man's extremity,
When hope is gone, nor glory's self remains
To cheer resistance against death or chains,—
They stood, the three, as the three hundred stood
Who dyed Thermopylae with holy blood.
But, ah how different! 'tis the cause makes all,
Degrades or hallows courage in its fall.
O'er them no fame, eternal and intense,
Blazed through the clouds of death and beckon'd

hence;

No grateful country, smiling through her tears
Begun the praises of a thousand years;
No nation's eyes would on their tomb be bent.
No heroes envy them their monument:
However boldly their warm blood was spilt,
Their life was shame, their epitaph was guilt.
And this they knew and felt, at least the one.
The leader of the band he had undone;
Who, born perchance for better things, had set
His life upon a cast which linger'd yet:
But now the die was to be thrown, and all
The chances were in favor of his fall;
And such a fall ! But still he faced the shock.
Obdurate as a portion of the rock
Whereon he stood, and fix'd his levell'd gun,
Dark as a sullen cloud before the sun.

XII.

The boat drew nigh, well arm'd, and firm the crew
To act whatever duty bade them do;
Careless of danger, as the onward wind
Is of the leaves it strews, nor looks behird.
And yet perhaps they rather wish'd to go
Against a nation's than a native foe,
And felt that this poor victim of self-will,
Briton no more, had once been Britain's still.
They hail'd him to surrender— no reply:
Their arms were poised, and glitter'd in the sky.
They hail'd again—no answer; yet once more
They offer'd quarter louder than before.
The echoes only, from the rock's rebound,
Took their last farewell of the dying sound.
Then flash'd the flint, and blazed the volleying flam.
And the smoke rose between them and their aim.
While the rock rattled with the bullets' knell,
Which peal’d in vain, and flatten’d as they fell:
Then flew the only answer to be given
By those who had lost all hope in earth or heaven.
After the first fierce peal, as they pull'd nigher.
They heard the voice of Christian shout, “Now fire"
And ere the word upon the echo died,
Two fell; the rest assail'd the rock's rough side,
And, furious at the madness of their foes,
Disdain’d all further efforts, save to close
But steep the crag, and all without a path,
Each step opposed a bastion to their wrath:
While, placed 'mid clefts the least accessible
Which Christian's eye was train'd to mark full well
The three maintain’d a strife which must not yield
In spots where eagles might have chosen to build.
Their every shot told; while the assailant fell,
Dash'd on the shingles like the limpet shell,
But still enough survived, and mounted still,
Scattering their numbers here and there, until
Surrounded and commanded, though not nigh
Enough for seizure, near enough to die,
The desperate trio held aloof their fate
But by a thread, like sharks who have gorged the

bait;
Yet to the very last they battled well,
And not a groan inform'd their foes who fell.
Christian died last—twice wounded; and once more
Mercy was offer'd when they saw his gore;
Too late for life, but not too late to die,
With, though a hostile hand, to close his eye.
A limb was broken, and he droop'd along

* The tradition is attached wo the story of Eloisa, that when her body was kwered into the grave of Abelard, (who had been buried twenty yearn) bo spened his arms to receive her.

Tne crag, as doth a falcon reft of young. The sound revived him, or appear'd to wake

|Some passion which a weakly gesture spake,

He beck n'd to the foremost, who drew nigh,
But, as they near'd, he rear'd his weapon high—
His last ball had been aim'd, but from his breast
He tore the topmost button from his vest,”
Down the tube dash’d it, levell'd, fired, and smiled
As his foe fell; then, like a serpent, coil'd
His wounded, weary form, to where the steep
Look'd desperate as himself along the deep;
Cast one glance back, and clench'd his hand, and
shook
His last rage 'gainst the earth which he forsook,
Then plunged: the rock below received like glass
His body crush'd into one gory mass,
With scarce a shred to tell of human form,
Or fragment for the sea-bird or the worm ;
A fair-hair'd scalp, besmear'd with blood and weeds,
Yet reck'd, the remnant of himself and deeds,
Some splinters of his weapons, (to the last,
As long as hand could hold, he held them fast,)
Yet glitter'd, but at distance—hurl’d away
To rust beneath the dew and dashing spray;
The rest was nothing—save a life mispent,
And soul—but who shall answer where it went 2
'Tis ours to bear, not judge the dead; and they
Who doom to hell, themselves are on the way,
Unless these bullies of eternal pains
Are pardon'd their bad hearts for their worse brains.

XIII. The deed was over ! All were gone or ta'en, The fugitive, the captive, or the slain. Chain'd on the deck, where once, a gallant crew, They stood with honor, were the wretched few Survivors of the skirmish on the isle; But the last rock left no surviving spoil. Cold these lay where they fell, and weltering, While o'er them flapp'd the sea-bird's dewy wing, Now wheeling nearer from the neighboring surge, And screaming high their harsh and hungry dirge: But calm and careless heaved the wave below, Eternal with unsympathetic flow; Far o'er its face the dolphins sported on, And sprung the flying fish against the sun,

• In Thibault's account of Frederic the Second of Prussia, there is a sintular relation of a young Frenchman, who with his mistress, appeared to be w wide rank. He onlisted and deserved at Scweidnitz: and after a desperate roanize was retaken, having killed an officer, who attempted to seize him after he was wounded, by the lischarge of his musket loaded with a button of Mio uniform. Some circumstances on his court martial raised a great unterest autong his judges, who wished to "incover his real situation in life, which he wdered to tie-loo, but to the king only, to whom he requested permission wo write. This was refused, and Frederic was filled with the greatest insigna. *on, from taoled curiosity or some ou.or motive, when he understood that his *quest had been denied--8ee Thitau.'s Work, vol. ii-II quote from mem.

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Till its dried wing relapsed from its brief height. To gather moisture for another flight.

XIV. 'Twas morn; and Neuha, who by dawn of day Swam smoothly forth to catch the rising ray, And watch if aught approach'd the amphibious laii Where lay her lover, saw a sail in air: It flapp'd, it fill'd, and to the growing gale Bent its broad arch : her breath began to fail With fluttering fear, her heart beat thick and high, While yet a doubt sprung where its course might lie. But no it came not; fast and far away The shadow lessen’d as it clear'd the bay. She gazed and flung the sea-foam from her eyes. To watch as for a rainbow in the skies. On the horizon verged the distant deck, Diminish'd, dwindled to a very speck— Then vanish'd. All was ocean, all was joy! Down plunged she through the cave to rouse her boy Told all she had seen, and all she hoped, and all That happy love could augur or recall; Sprung forth again, with Torquil following free His bounding nereid over the broad sea; Swam round the rock, to where a shallow cleft Hid the canoe that Neuha there had left Drifting along the tide, without an oar, That eve the strangers chased them from the shore But when these vanish'd, she pursued her prow, Regain'd, and urged to where they found it now . Nor ever did more love and joy embark, Than now was wafted in that slender ark.

XV. Again their own shore rises on the view, No more polluted with a hostile hue ; No sullen ship lay bristling o'er the foam, A floating dungeon:—all was hope and home ! A thousand proas darted o'er the bay, With sounding shells, and heralded their way; The chiefs came down, around the people pour'd, And welcome Torquil as a son restored; The women throng'd, embracing and embraced By Neuha, asking where they had been chased, And how escaped 2 The tale was told ; and then One acclamation rent the sky again; And from that hour a new tradition gave Their sanctuary the name of “Neuha's Cave.” A hundred fires, far flickering from the height, Blazed o'er the general revel of the night, The feast in honor of the guest, return'd To peace and pleasure, perilously earn'd : A night succeeded by such happy days As only the yet infant world displays.

APPENDIX TO THE ISLAND.

EXTRACT FROM THE VOYAGE OF CAPTAIN BLIGH.

ON the 27th of December it blew a severe storm of wind from the eastward, in the course of which we suffered greatly. One sea broke away the spare yards and spars out of the starboard main-chains; another broke into the ship and stove all the boats. Several casks of beer that had been lashed on deck broke ioose, and were washed overboard; and it was not without great risk and difficulty that we were able to secure the boats from being washed away entirely. A great quantity of our bread was also damaged and rendered useless, for the sea had stove in our stern, and filled the cabin with water. On the 5th of January, 1788, we saw the island of Teneriffe about twelve leagues distant; and next day being Sunday, came to an anchor in the road of Santa Cruz. There we took in the necessary supplies, and, having finished our business, sailed on the 10th. I now divided the people into three watches, and ave the charge of the }. watch to Mr. Fletcher É. one of the mates. I have always considered this a desirable regulation when circumstances will admit of it; and I am persuaded that unbroken rest not only contributes much towards the health of the ship's company, but enables them more readily to exert themselves in cases of sudden emergency. As I wished to proceed to Otaheite without stopping, I reduced the allowance of bread to twothirds, and caused the water for drinking to be filtered through drip-stones, bought at Teneriffe for that purpose. I now acquainted the ship's company of the object of the voyage, and gave assurances of certain promotion to every one whose endeavors should merit it. On Tuesday the 26th of February, being in south latitude 29 degrees, 38 minutes, and 44 degrees, 44 minutes west longitude, we bent new sails, and made other necessary preparations for encountering the weather that was to be expected in a high latitude. Our distance from the coast of Brazil was about one hundred leagues. On the forenoon of Sunday the 2d of March, after seeing that every person was clean, divine service was performed, according to my usual custom on this day. I gave to Mr. Fletcher Christian, whom I had before directed to take charge of the third watc.), a written order to act as lieutenant. The change of temperature soon began to be sensibly felt, and that the people might not suffer from their own negligence, I supplied them with thicker elothing, as better suited to the climate. A great number of whales of an immense size, with two o on the back of the head, were seen on the llth. On a conplaint made to me by the master, I found it necessary to punish Matthew Quintal, one of the seamen, with two dozen of lashes, for insolence and mutinous behaviour, which was the first time that there was any occasion for punishment on board.

through Straits le Maire. We passed New Year', Harbor and Cape St. John, and on Monday the 31st were in latitude 60 degrees 1 minute south. But the wind became ... and we had bad weather. Storms, attended with great sea, prevailed until the 12th of April. The ship began to leak, and requir ed pumping every hour, which was no more than we had reason to expect from such a continuance of gales of wind and high seas. The decks also became so leaky, that it was necessary to allot the great cabin, of which I made little use except in fine weather, to those people who had not berth- to hang their hammocks in, and by this means the space between decks was less crowded. With all this bad weather, we had the additional mortification to find, at the end of every day, that we were losing ground; for, notwithstanding our utmost exertions, and keeping on the most advantageous tracks, we did little better than drift before the wind. On Tuesday the 22d of April, we had eight down on the sick list, and the rest of the peo ple, though in good health, were greatly fatigued; but I saw, with much concern, that it was impossible to make a passage this way to the Soviety Is lands, for we had now been thirty days in a tempestuous ocean. Thus the season was too far advanced for us to expect better weather to enable us to double Cape Horn ; and, from these and other considerations, I ordered the helm to be put a-weather, and bore away for the Cape of Good Hope, to the great joy of every one on board. We came to an anchor on Friday the 23d of May in Simon's bay, at the Cape, after a tolerable run. The ship required complete caulking, for she had become so leaky, that we were obliged to pump hourly in our passage from Cape Horn. The sails and rigging also required repair, and on examinin the provisions, a considerable quantity was foun damaged. Having remained thirty-eight days in this place, and my people having received all the advantage that ... be derived from refreshments of every kind that could be met with, we sailed on the 1st of July. A gale of wind blew on the 20th, with a high sea: it increased after noon with such violence, that the ship was driven almost forecastle under before we could get the sails clewed up. The lower yards were lowered, and the topgallant-masts got down upon deck, which ... her much. We lay to all night, and in the morning bore away under a reefed foresail. The sea still running high, in the afternoon it became very unsafe to stand on ; we therefore lay to all night, without any accident, excepting that a man at the steerage was thrown over the wheel and much bruised. Towards noon the violence of the storm abated, and we again bore away under the reefed foresail. In a few days we passed the island of St. Paul, where there is good fresh water, as I was informed by a Dutch captain, and also a hot spring, which

We were off Cape St. Diego, the eastern part of boils fish as completely as if done by a fire. Apthe Terra del Fuego, and, the wind being unfavor-proaching to Van Dieman’s land, we had much bad able, I thought it more advisable to go round to the weather, with snow and hail ; but nothing was seen eastward of Staten-land than to attempt passing to indicate our vicinity on the 13t'l of August, ex

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