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“For I thought that God would hear his prayer, I heard the dismal, drowning cries,
And set the vessel free;

Of their last agony.
For a dreadful thing it was to lie
Upon that charnel sea.

“There was a curse in the wind that blew,

A curse in the boiling wave;

And the captain knew that vengeance came "Yet I told him not wherefore he prayed,

From the old man's ocean grave.
Nor why the calm was sent;
I would not give that knowledge dark

"And 'I heard him say, as he sate apart, To a soul so innocent.

In a hollow voice and low,

''Tis a cry of blood doth follow us, "At length I saw a little cloud

And still doth plague us so!'
Arise in that sky of flame;
A little cloud, but it grew, and grew, "And then those heavy iron chests,
And blackened as it came.

With desperate strength took he,
And ten of the strongest mariners

Did cast them into the sea.
"And we saw the sea beneath its track
Grow dark as the frowning sky;

“And out from the bottom of the sea, And water-spouts, with a rushing sound,

There came a hollow groan; Like giants, passed us by.

The captain by the gunwale stood,

And he looked like icy stone, “And all around, 'twixt sky and sea,

And he drew in his breath with a gasping sob, A hollow wind did blow;

And a spasm of death came on. And the waves were heaved from the ocean


"And a furious boiling wave rose up, And the ship rocked to and fro.

With a rushing, thundering roar;
I saw the captain fall to the deck,

But I never saw him more.
“I knew it was that fierce death calm
Its horried hold undoing;

"Two days before, when the storm began, And I saw the plagues of wind and storm

We were forty men and five; Their missioned work pursuing.

But ere the middle of that night

There were but two alive. “There was a yell in the gathering winds, A groan in the heaving sea;

“The child and I, we were but two,
And the captain rushed from the hold below, And he clung to me in fear;
But he durst not look on me.

Oh! it was pitiful to see
That meek child in his misery,

And his little prayers to hear! "He seized each rope with a madman's haste,

And he set the helm to go; And every sail he crowded on

"At length, as if his prayers were heard, As the furious winds did blow.

'Twas calmer,

and anon

The clear sun shone, and warm and low, “And away they went, like autumn leaves A steady wind from the west did blow, Before the tempest's rout;

And drove us gently on.
And the naked masts with a crash came down,
And the wild ship tossed about.

“And on we drove, and on we drove,

That fair young child and I;
"The men to spars and splintered boards But his heart was as a man's in strength,
Clung, till their strength was gone;

And he uttered not a cry.
And I saw them from their feeble hold
Washed over, one by one.

"There was no bread within the wreck,

And water we had none; “And 'mid the creaking timber's din,

Yet he murmured not, and cheered me And the roaring of the sea,

When my last hopes were gone :

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Ye sit upon the earta

Children of pleasant song
Twining its flowers, and shouting, full of glee; Are taught within the mountain solitudes;

And a pure mighty influence, 'mid your mirth For hoary legends to your wilds belong, Moulds your unconscious spirits silently. And yours are haunts where inspiration broods.

Hence is it that the lands
Of storm and mountain have the noblest sons; Then go forth, earth and sky
Whom the world reverences, the patriot To you are tributary; joys are spread


Profusely, like the summer flowers that lie Were of the hills like you, ye little ones! In the green path, beneath your gamesome tread!

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Thomas R. Hervey ward um 1816 in der Nähe von Paisley geboren, erhielt seine Erziehung in Manchester und lebt hier als practischer Jurist. Er veröffentlichte the Poetical Sketch-Book 1835, the Book of Christmas und einzelne Gedichte in Zeitschriften. Seine Poesieen wenn gleich nicht ersten Ranges zeichnen sich durch reiche Phantasie und treffliche Diction sehr vor theilhaft aus.

A Twilight Landscape.

Along the green meadows, when life was in

prime, Oh! come at this hour, love! the daylight is And worshipped its face in the stream:


When our hopes were as sweet, and our life-path And the heavens weep dew on the flowers;

as bright, And the spirit of loneliness steals, with a moan, And as cloudless, to fancy's young eye, Through the shade of the eglantine bowers: As the star-spangled course of that phantom of For, the moon is asleep on her pillow of clouds,

light, And her curtain is drawn in the sky;

Along the blue depths of the sky! And the gale, as it wantons along the young Then come in this hour, love! when twilight has buds,

hung Falls faint on the ear like a sigh!

Its shadowy mantle around; The summer-day sun is too gaudy and bright And no sound, save the murmurs that breathe For a heart that has suffered like mine;

from thy tongue, And, methinks, there were pain, in the noon of Or thy footfall scarce heard on the ground!

its light,

Shall steal on the silence, to waken a fear To a spirit so broken as thine!

When the sun that is gone, with its heat,
The birds, as they mingled their music of joy, Has left on the cheek of all nature a tear,
And the roses that smiled in the beam,

Then, hearts that are broken should meet!
Would but tell us of feelings for ever gone by,
And of hopes that have passed like a dream!
And the moonlight, pale spirit! would

speak of the time When we wandered beneath its soft gleam,

As the smiles we pat on - just to cover our The Convict Ship.

tears; Morn on the waters ! — and purple and bright, And the withering thoughts which the world

cannot know Bursts on the billows the flushing of light ! O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun,

Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below; See the tall vessel goes gallantly on:

While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore

Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,

and o'er, And her pennant streams onward, like hope, in

the gale! The winds come around her, in murmur and

song, And the surges rejoice, as they bear her along ! Upward she points to the golden-edged clouds,

I am all alone. And the sailor sings gaily, aloft in the shrouds ! Onwards she glides, amid ripple and spray, I am all alone! and the visions that play Over the waters away, and away.

Round life's young days, have passed away; Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part, And the songs are hushed that gladness sings Passing away, like a dream of the heart!

And the hopes that I cherished have made them Who – as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,

wings; Music around her, and sunshine on high And the light of my heart is dimmed and gone, Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow,

And I sit in my sorrow,

and all alone! Oh! there be hearts that are breaking, below! And the forms which I fondly loved are flown, Night on the waves!

and the moon is on And friends have departed one by one;

And memory sits whole lonely hours,
Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky;

And weaves her wreath of hope's faded flowers, Treading its depths, in the power of her might, And weeps o'er the chaplet, when no one is near And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to To gaze on her grief, or to chide her tear !

light Look to the waters, asleep on their breast,

And the home of my childhood is distant far, Seems not the ship like an island of rest? And I walk in a land where strangers are; Bright and alone on the shadowy main,

And the looks that I meet, and the sounds that Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate

I hear, plain!

Are not light to my spirit, nor song to my ear; Who as she smiles in the silvery light, And sunshine is round me, which I cannot see, Spreading her wings on the bosom of night,

And eyes that beam kindness, but not for me!
Alone on the deep as the moon in the sky,
A phantom of beauty! could deem, with a sigh, And the song goes round, and the glowing
That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin,

And souls that are smitten lie bursting, within ! But I am desolate all the while !
Who, as he watches her silently gliding, And faces are bright, and bosoms glad,
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing

And nothing, I think, but my heart is sad!
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,

And I seem like a blight in a region of bloom, Hearts that are parted and broken for ever!

While I dwell in my own little circle of gloom!
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's I wander about, like a shadow of pain,

With a worm in my breast, and a spell on my


And I list, with a start, to the gushing of glad'Tis thus with our life, while it passes along,

ness, Like a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song:

Oh! how it grates on a bosom all sadness! Gaily we glide, in the gaze of the world,

So I turn from a world where I never was With streamers afloat, and with canvass unfurled ;

known, To sit in my sorrow,

and all alone! All gladness and glory to wandering eyes, Yet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with

sighs ? Fading and false is the aspect it wears,

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And I have hung on other sighs,
She sleeps, that still and placid sleep. And sounds that seemed like truth;

And loved the music which they gave,
She sleeps that still and placid sleep

Like that which perished in the grave.
For which the weary pant in vain;
And, where the dews of evening weep,
I may not weep again;

And I have left the cold and dead,
Oh! never more upon her grave,

To mingle with the living cold; Shall I behold the wild flower wave!

There is a weight around my head,

My heart is growing old; They laid her where the sun and moon

Oh! for a refuge and a home,
Look on her tomb, with loving eye,

With thee, dead Ellen, in thy tomb!
And I have heard the breeze of June
Sweep o'er it
like a sigh!

Age sits upon my breast and brain,
And the wild river's wailing song

My spirit fades before its time; Grow dirge-like, as it stole along!

But they are all thine own again,

Lost partner of their prime!

And thou art dearer, in thy shroud,
And I have dreamt, in many dreams,

Than all the false and living crowd!
Of her who was a dream to me;
And talked to her, by summer streams,
In crowds, and on the sea,

Rise, gentle vision of the hours,
Till, in my soul she grew enshrined,

Which go

like birds that come not back! A young Egeria of the mind!

And fling thy pale and funeral flowers

On memory's wasted track! 'Tis years ago! and other eyes

Oh! for the wings that made thee blest, Have fung their beauty o'er my youth; To "fee away, and be at rest!”

B a yly.

Thomas Haynes Bayly ward zu Anfange dieses Jahrhunderts in Bath geboren, und widmete sich, da seine Eltern sehr wohlhabend waren, ganz den schönen Wissenschaften. 1826 verheirathete er sich und nahm seinen Wohnsitz an der Küste von Sussex; 1831 hatte er aber das Unglück sein Vermögen zu verlieren und musste nun von dem Ertrage seiner Feder leben. Er starb 1844 in dürftigen Verhältnissen.

Bayly hat mehrere dramatische Werke wie z. B. Perfection, sold for a Song, The Witness u. A. m., welche sich grossen Erfolges erfreuten, sowie viele prosaische Aufsätze und Erzählungen in Zeitschriften u. s. w. hinterlassen, welche noch eine besondere Sammlung und Herausgabe erwarten. Am Zahlreichsten und Verbreitetsten jedoch sind seine bis jetzt ebenfalls in Journalen verstreuten Lieder, die sich durch reiche Phantasie, warmes Gefühl, glücklichen Humor, Lebendigkeit und gefällige Form höchst vortheilhaft auszeichnen und in ganz England überall gesungen werden.

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