Art thou not present, this calm scene before,
Where all beside is pebbly length of shore,

And far as eye can reach, it can discern no more ?
Yet sometimes comes a ruffling cloud, to make
The quiet surface of the ocean shake;

As an awaken'd giant with a frown

Might show his wrath, and then to sleep sink down.
View now the winter-storm, above, one cloud,
Black and unbroken, all the skies o'ershroud.
Th' unwieldy porpoise through the day before
Had roll'd in view of boding men on shore;

And sometimes hid, and sometimes show'd, his form,
Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm.

All where the eye delights, yet dreads, to roam,
The breaking billows cast the flying foam
Upon the billows rising all the deep

Is restless change; the waves so swell'd and steep,
Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells,
Nor one, one moment, in its station dwells.
But, nearer land, you may the billows trace,
As if contending in their watery chase;
May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach,
Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch;
Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force,
And then, re-flowing, take their grating course,
Raking the rounded flints, which ages past
Roll'd by their rage, and shall to ages last.
Far off, the petrel in the troubled way
Swims with her brood, or flutters in the spray;
She rises often, often drops again,

And sports at ease on the tempestuous main.
High o'er the restless deep, above the reach

Of gunner's hope, vast flights of wild-ducks stretch;
Far as the eye can glance on either side,
In a broad space and level line they glide;
All in their wedge-like figures from the north,
Day after day, flight after flight, go forth.

In-shore their passage tribes of sea-gulls urge,
And drop for prey within the sweeping surge;

190

200

210

220

Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly

Far back, then turn, and all their force apply,
While to the storm they give their weak complaining cry ; [)]
Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast,

And in the restless ocean dip for rest.

Darkness begins to reign; the louder wind
Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind;
But frights not him, whom evening and the spray
In part conceal-yon prowler on his way.
Lo he has something seen; he runs apace,
As if he fear'd companion in the chase;
He sees his prize, and now he turns again,
Slowly and sorrowing-"Was your search in vain?"
Gruffly he answers, "Tis a sorry sight!

"A seaman's body; there'll be more to-night!"

Hark to those sounds! they're from distress at sea:
How quick they come! What terrors may there be !
Yes, 'tis a driven vessel: I discern

Lights, signs of terror, gleaming from the stern;
Others behold them too, and from the town
In various parties seamen hurry down;

Their wives pursue, and damsels urged by dread,
Lest men so dear be into danger led;

Their head the gown has hooded, and their call
In this sad night is piercing like the squall;

They feel their kinds of power, and when they meet,
Chide, fondle, weep, dare, threaten, or entreat.
See one poor girl, all terror and alarm,
Has fondly seized upon her lover's arm;
"Thou shalt not venture; and he answers "No!
"I will not"-still she cries, "Thou shalt not go.'
No need of this; not here the stoutest boat
Can through such breakers, o'er such billows float;
Yet may they view these lights upon the beach,
Which yield them hope, whom help can never reach.
From parted clouds the moon her radiance throws
On the wild waves, and all the danger shows;
But shows them beaming in her shining vest,
Terrific splendour! gloom in glory dress'd!
This for a moment, and then clouds again

T 2

230

240

250

260

291

Hide every beam, and fear and darkness reign.
But hear we now those sounds? Do lights appear?
I see them not! the storm alone I hear :
And lo! the sailors homeward take their way;
Man must endure-let us submit and pray.

Such are our winter-views; but night comes on-
Now business sleeps, and daily cares are gone ;
Now parties form, and some their friends assist
To waste the idle hours at sober whist;
The tavern's pleasure or the concert's charm
Unnumber'd moments of their sting disarm;
Play-bills and open doors a crowd invite,
To pass off one dread portion of the night;
And show and song and luxury combined
Lift off from man this burthen of mankind.

Others advent'rous walk abroad and meet
Returning parties pacing through the street;
When various voices, in the dying day,
Hum in our walks, and greet us in our way;
When tavern-lights flit on from room to room,
And guide the tippling sailor, staggering home:
There as we pass, the jingling bells betray
How business rises with the closing day:
Now walking silent, by the river's side,
The ear perceives the rippling of the tide;
Or measured cadence of the lads who tow
Some enter'd hoy, to fix her in her row;
Or hollow sound, which from the parish-bell
To some departed spirit bids farewell!

Thus shall you something of our BOROUGH know,
Far as a verse, with Fancy's aid, can show;
Of sea or river, of a quay or street,

The best description must be incomplete;

But when a happier theme [succeeds], and when
Men are our subjects and the deeds of men;
Then may we find the Muse in happier style,
And we may sometimes sigh and sometimes smile.

270

280

290

300

NOTES TO LETTER I.

Note 1, page 286, line 32.

Sits the large lily as the water's queen.

The white water-lily. Nymphæa alba.

Note 2, page 286, line 41.

Sampire-banks.

The jointed glasswort. Salicornia is here meant, not the true sampire, the crithmum maritimum.

Note 3, page 286, line 41.

Salt-wort.

The salsola of botanists.

Note 4, page 287, line 84.

And planks which curve and crackle in the smoke.

The curvature of planks for the sides of a ship, &c. is, I am informed, now generally made by the power of steam. Fire is nevertheless still used for boats and vessels of the smaller kind.

Note 5, page 289, lines 171 and 172.

And oft the foggy banks on ocean lie,

Lift the fair sail, and at th' experienced eye.

Of the effect of these mists, known by the name of fog-banks, wonderful and indeed incredible relations are given; but their property of appearing to elevate ships at sea, and to bring them in view, is, I believe, generally acknowledged.

THE BOROUGH.

LETTER II.

THE CHURCH.

. Festinat enim decurrere velox
Flosculus angustæ miseræque brevissima vitæ
Portio! dum bibimus, dum serta, unguenta, puellas
Poscimus, obrepit non intellecta senectus.

Juvenal. Satir. ix. lin. 126.

And when at last thy love shall die,
Wilt thou receive his parting breath?

Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,

And cheer with smiles the bed of death?

Percy [?].

Several Meanings of the word Church-The Building so called, here intended-Its Antiquity and Grandeur-Columns and Ailes--The Tower: the Stains made by Time compared with the mock Antiquity of the Artist-Progress of Vegetation on such Buildings-BellsTombs: one in decay-Mural Monuments, and the Nature of their Inscriptions-An Instance in a departed Burgess-Churchyard Graves -Mourners for the Dead-A Story of a betrothed Pair in humble Life, and Effects of Grief in the Survivor.