Oh! none of those heart-cradled prayers

That never reach the lip,

No benedictions wait upon

That fast-receding ship:

No tearful eyes are strain'd to watch
Its progress from the land;

And there are none to wave the scarf,
And none to kiss the hand.

Yet women throng that vessel's deckThe haggard and the fair,

The young in guilt, and the depraved,

Are intermingled there !

The girl who from her mother's arms

Was early lured away;

The harden'd hag, whose trade hath been

To lead the pure astray!

A young and sickly mother kneels

Apart from all the rest;

And with a song of home she lulls

The babe upon her breast.

She falters, for her tears must flow,-
She cannot end the verse;

And naught is heard among the crowd

But laughter, shout, or curse!

'Tis sunset.

Hark! the signal gun ;—

All from the deck are sent

The young, the old, the best, the worst,

In one dark dungeon pent!

Their wailings, and their horrid mirth,

Alike are hush'd in sleep!
And now the female convict-ship
In silence ploughs the deep.

But long the lurid tempest-cloud
Hath brooded o'er the waves;
And suddenly the winds are roused,
And leave their secret caves ;
And up aloft the ship is borne,
And down again as fast;
And every mighty billow seems
More dreadful than the last.

Oh! who that loves the pleasure-barque,

By summer breezes fann'd,
Shall dare to paint the ocean-storm,

Terrifically grand ?—

When helplessly the vessel drifts,

Each torn sail closely furl'd;
When not a man of all the crew
Knows whither she is hurl'd?

And who shall tell the agony
Of those confined beneath,
Who in the darkness dread to die-
How unprepared for death!

Who, loathing, to each other cling

When every hope hath ceased, And beat against their prison door, And shriek to be released?

Three times the ship hath struck. Again!

She never more will float.

Oh! wait not for the rising tide;

Be steady-man the boat,

And, see assembled on the shore,
The merciful, the brave;-
Quick, set the female convicts free,
There still is time to save!

It is in vain! what demon blinds
The captain and the crew?

The rapid rising of the tide

With mad delight they view.
They hope the coming waves will waft
The convict ship away!

The foaming monster hurries on,
Impatient for his prey!

And he is come! the rushing flood
In thunder sweeps the deck!
The groaning timbers fly apart,

The vessel is a wreck !

One moment from the female crowd
There comes a fearful cry;

The next, they're hurl'd into the deep,
To struggle, and to die!

Their corses strew a foreign shore,

Left by the ebbing tide;

And sixty in a ghastly row

Lie number'd side by side!

The lifeless mother's bleeding form
Comes floating from the wreck ;
And lifeless is the babe she bound
So fondly round her neck.

'Tis morn ;-the anxious eye can trace
No vessel on the deep;
But gather'd timber on the shore
Lies in a gloomy heap :

In winter time those brands will blaze
Our tranquil homes to warm,

Though torn from that poor convict ship

That perish'd in the storm!

THE BURNING SHIP AT SEA.

THE night was clear and mild,
And the breeze went softly by,

And the stars of heaven smiled

As they wandered up the sky;

And there rode a gallant ship on the wave-
But many a hapless wight

Slept the sleep of death that night,

And before the morning light

Found a grave.

All were sunk in soft repose,

Save the watch upon the deck:

BAYLY.

Not a boding dream arose

Of the horrors of the wreck,

To the mother, or the child, or the sire;
Till a shriek of woe profound,

Like a death-knell echoed round-
With a wild and dismal sound,

A shriek of "Fire!"

Now the flames are spreading fast-
With resistless rage they fly,
Up the shrouds and up the mast,
And are flickering to the sky;

Now the deck is all ablaze; now the rails
There's no place to rest their feet;
Fore and aft the torches meet,

And a wingéd lightning-sheet

Are the sails.

No one heard the

cry of woe

But the sea-bird that flew by;

There was hurrying to and fro,

But no hand to save was nigh,

Still before the burning foe they were drivenLast farewells were uttered there,

With a wild and frenzied stare,

And a short and broken prayer

Sent to Heaven.

Some leap over in the flood

To the death that waits them there:

Others quench the flames with blood,

And expire in open air;