Or, oft renew the link that death hath broken, The cherish’d dead—again recall to view; Hear ’mid thy varied tones, the fond words spoken, That erst from sorrow’s fount deep anguish drew.
And fairest visions float through Fancy’s fane, Caught from the soul’s illuminated shrine; Elysian forms, that purer realms retain, Thoughts of the blest, ethereal, and divine.
Earth too is mingling with her mortal hours, The touching softness of her gentle things; And Love—deep-gushing Love—with winged powers, Chimes with the ecstacy each wild note brings.
Hast thou not sounds to rouse the soul to madness, To flattering joys—emotions long enshrined; Deep silent melodies of youthful gladness, That spring unbidden to the raptur’d mind?
This, then thou art—the power of plaintive measure, To call forth passion by the wind-swept wire; To mingle Hope, with memory’s sad pleasure, This is thy power—Oh! sweet Æolian lyre. A. F. H.
BY THE AUTHOR OF “CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR.”
It is scarcely necessary to detail the occurrences of that celebrated cruize. Success appeared to follow us wherever we went. After our escape from the man-of-war,—which we subsequently learned to be the Solebay, mounting twenty-eight guns—we ran farther eastward, and soon fell in with several prizes. One morning, however, our look-out detected a strange frigate hovering upon the sea-board, nor was it long before we discovered her to be an enemy. We made her out, by the aid of our glasses, to be a light frigate, pierced for sixteen guns on a side. Every rag that would draw was instantly set. With equal alacrity the stranger followed our example, and a running fight was commenced, which lasted nearly the whole day; for our daring leader, finding that we could easily outsail the enemy, kept just out of range of her guns, so that, although she maintained a constant fire, every shot fell short. Toward night-fall, however, we gave full rein to our gallant craft, and, to the astonishment and chagrin of the Englishman, left him hull down in a few hours.
After hauling aboard our tacks, we ran up toward Canseau, and for some time inflicted serious damage upon the enemy’s fishermen, around the coast of Nova Scotia. Having finally captured no less than sixteen sail, some of them very valuable, we left the scene of our late exploits, and swept down the coast toward Montauk.