Thus shine they self-illum'd, or but display The borrow'd splendours of a cloudless day? With borrow'd beams they shine. The gales, that breathe Now landward, and the current's force beneath, Till, ceaseless in its growth, it claim'd to stand Thus stood, and, unremovable by skill, It left the shelving beach—and, with a sound Down went the pond'rous mass. So bards of old, Herb, fruit, and flow'r. She, crown'd with laurel, wore, Ev'n under wintry skies, a summer smile; And Delos was Apollo's fav'rite isle. But, horrid wand'rers of the deep, to you He deems Cimmerian darkness only due, Your hated birth he deign'd not to survey, THE CAST-AWAY. [MARCH 20, 1799.] OBSCUREST night involv'd the sky, When such a destin'd wretch as I, Wash'd headlong from on board, No braver chief could Albion boast Nor ever ship left Albion's coast With warmer wishes sent. He lov'd them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again. Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away; But wag'd with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life. He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd To check the vessel's course, But so the furious blast prevail'd, That, pitiless, perforce, They left their outcast mate behind, Some succour yet they could afford; And, such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delay'd not to bestow. But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore, Whate'er they gave, should visit more. Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he Aware that flight, in such a sea, Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh. He long survives, who lives an hour In ocean, self-upheld: And so long he, with unspent pow'r, His destiny repell'd: And ever as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried-" Adieu!" At length, his transient respite past, |