THE DEATH OF SELIM.

One bound he made, and gain'd the sand:
Already at his feet hath sunk

The foremost of the prying band,

A gasping head, a quivering trunk : Another falls, but round him close A swarming circle of his foes; From right to left his path he cleft, And almost met the meeting wave. His boat appears, not five oars' length, His comrades strain with desperate strength. Oh! are they yet in time to save? His feet the foremost breakers lave! His band are plunging in the bay, Their sabres glitter thro' the spray— Wet-wild-unwearied to the strand They struggle-now they touch the land! They come 'tis but to add to slaughter, His heart's best blood is on the water. Escap'd from shot, unharm'd by steel, Or scarcely graz'd its force to feel, Had Selim won, betray'd, beset, To where the strand and billows met, There, as his last step met the land, And the last death-blow dealt his handHis back was to the dashing spray, Behind, but close, his comrades lay, When, at the instant, hiss'd the ball

"So may the foes of Giaffir fall!"

Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang?
Whose bullet thro' the night air sang?

Too nearly, deadly aimed to err?
'Tis thine-Abdallah's murderer!
The father slowly rued thy hate,
The son hath found a quicker fate.
Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling,
The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling-
If aught his lips essay'd to groan,
The rushing billows chok'd the tone.

BYRON.

A SHIP SINKING.

Her giant form,

O'er wrathful surge, thro' blackening storm
Majestically calm would go

'Mid the deep darkness white as snow!
But gently now the small waves glide
Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side.
So stately her bearing, so proud her array,
The main she will traverse for ever and aye.
Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!
-Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is
her last.

Five hundred souls in one instant of dread

Are hurried o'er the deck;

And fast the miserable ship

Becomes a lifeless wreck.

Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock,
Her planks are torn asunder,

And down come her masts with a reeling shock,
And a hideous crash like thunder.

Her sails are draggled in the brine

That gladden'd late the skies,

And her pendant, that kiss'd the fair moonshine,
Down many a fathom lies.
Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues
Gleam'd softly from below,

And flung a warm and sunny flash

O'er the wreaths of murmuring snow,
To the coral rocks are hurrying down
To sleep amid colours as bright as their own.
Oh! many a dream was in the ship

An hour before her death:

And sights of home with sighs disturb'd
The sleepers' long-drawn breath.

Instead of the murmur of the sea,
The sailor heard the humming tree
Alive thro' all its leaves,

The hum of the spreading sycamore
That grows before his cottage door,

And the swallow's song in the eaves.

His arms enclos'd a blooming boy,
Who listen'd with tears of sorrow and joy

To the dangers his father had pass'd; And his wife-by turns she wept and smil'd, As she look'd on the father of her child Return'd to her heart at last.

-He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll, And the rush of waters is in his soul. Now is the ocean's bosom bare,

Unbroken as the floating air;

The ship hath melted quite away,
Like a struggling dream at break of day.
No image meets my wandering eye

But the new-risen sun and the sunny sky.

Tho' the night-shades are gone, yet a vapour

dull

Bedims the waves so beautiful;

While a low and melancholy moan

Mourns for the glory that hath flown.

WILSON.

ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won

By Philip's warlike son ;

Aloft in awful state

The godlike hero sate

On his imperial throne:

His valiant peers were placed around,

Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound

(So should desert in arms be crown'd).

The lovely Thais by his side
Sate like a blooming eastern bride
In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserve the fair.

Timotheus, plac'd on high,

Amid the tuneful quire,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heav'nly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove,

Who left his blissful seats above,
(Such is the pow'r of mighty love!
A dragon's fiery form belied the god :
Sublime on radiant spires he rode :

When he to fair Olympia press'd: And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world

The list'ning crowd admire the lofty sound.
A present deity! they shout around,
A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound:
With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.