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Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe:
Won by their sweets, in nature's languid hour,
The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower;
There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing,
What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring!
What viewless forms th' Eolian organ play,

And

sweep the furrowed lines of anxious thought away!

ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN.

Barry Cornwall.

O, THOU, vast Ocean! Ever sounding sea,
Thou symbol of a drear immensity!
Thou thing that windest round the solid world
Like a huge animal, which, downward hurled
From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone,
Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone,
Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep
Is as a giant's slumber loud and deep.
Thou speakest in the East and in the West
At once, and on thy heavily laden breast
Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life
Or motion, yet are moved and met in strife.

The earth hath nought of this; no chance nor change
Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare

Give answer to the tempest-waken air,
But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range
At will, and wound its bosom as they go ;
Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow;

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But in their stated rounds the seasons come,
And pass like visions to their viewless home,
And come again, and vanish: the young Spring
Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming;
And Winter always winds his sullen horn,
When the wild Autumn, with a look forlorn
Dies in his stormy manhood; and the skies
Weep, and flowers sicken when the Summer flies.
-Thou only terrible Ocean hast a power,
A will, a voice, and in thy wrathful hour,
When thou dost lift thy anger to the clouds,
A fearful and magnificent beauty shrouds
Thy broad green forehead. If thy waves be driven
Backwards and forwards by the shifting wind,
How quickly dost thou thy great strength unbind,
And stretch thine arms, and war at once with heaven.

Thou trackless and immeasurable main!

On thee no record ever lived again

To meet the hand that writ it: line nor lead

Hath ever fathomed thy profoundest deeps,

Where haply the huge monster swells and sleeps,
King of his watery limit, who 'tis said
Can move the mighty ocean into storm-
Oh! wonderful thou art, great element;
And fearful in thy spleeny humours bent;
And lovely in repose; thy summer form
Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves
Make music in earth's dark and winding caves,
I love to wander on thy pebbled beach,
Marking the sunlight at the evening hour,
And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach-
"Eternity, Eternity, and Power,"

HUMAN LIFE.

THE lark has sung his carol in the sky;
The bees have hummed their noontide lullaby.
Still in the vale the village-bells ring round,
Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound.
For now the caudle-cup is circling there,
Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer,
And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire
The babe, the sleeping image of his sire.

A few short years-and then these sounds shall hail
The day again, and gladness fill the vale;

So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,
Eager to run the race his fathers ran.

Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin ;
The ale, now brewed, in floods of amber shine:
And, basking in the chimney's ample blaze,
'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled,
"'Twas on these knees he sate so oft and smiled."

And soon again shall music swell the breeze;
Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees
Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung,
And violets scattered round; and old and young,
In every cottage-porch with garlands green,
Stand still to gaze, and, gazing bless the scene;
While, her dark eyes declining by his side
Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.

And once,

alas! nor in a distant hour, Another voice shall come from yonder tower;

Rogers.

When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen,
And weepings heard where only joy has been ;
When by his children borne, and from his door
Slowly departing to return no more,

He rests in holy earth with them that went before.

And such is Human Life; so gliding on,
It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!
Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange,
As full methinks of wild and wondrous change,
As any that the wandering tribes require,
Stretched in the desert round their evening-fire;
As any sung of old in hall or bower

To minstrel-harps at midnight's witching-hour!

PORTUGUESE HYMN TO THE VIRGIN MARY.

STAR of the wide and pathless sea,

Who lovest on mariners to shine,

Those votive garments wet to thee
We hang within thy holy shrine.
When o'er us flashed the surging brine,
Amid the warring waters tost,

We call no other name but thine,
And hoped when other hope was lost.
Ave Maris Stella!

Star of the vast and howling main,
When dark and lone is all the sky,
And mountain waves o'er ocean's plain
Erect their stormy heads on high;

Leyden.

When virgins for their true loves sigh, They raised their weeping eyes to thee; The Star of Ocean heeds their cry, And saves the foundering bark at sea. Ave Maris Stella!

Star of the dark and stormy sea,

When wrecking tempests round us rave,

Thy gentle virgin form we see

Bright rising o'er the hoary wave.

The howling storms that seem to crave Their victims sink in music sweet; The surging seas recede to pave The path beneath thy glistening feet. Ave Maris Stella!

Star of the desert waters wild,

Who pitying hear'st the seaman's cry,

The God of mercy, as a child,

On that chaste bosom loves to lie; While soft the chorus of the sky Their hymns of tender mercy sing, And angel voices name on high The mother of the Heavenly King. Ave Maris Stella!

Star of the deep!-at that blest name
The waves sleep silent round the keel,
The tempests wild their fury tame,
That made the deep's foundations reel;
The soft celestial accents steal

So soothing through the realms of woe,
The newly damned a respite feel
From torture in the depths below.
Ave Maris Stella!

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