Lo! kneeling to his gods, the bold Maroon,
Strange rites performs beneath the midnight moon;
And sighing for his home and native land,
Asks the deep vengeance which his wrongs
Up springs the warrior at the break of morn,
Rousing his brethren with the loud ton'd horn;
Exulting in his might, he climbs the steep,
Sends his keen glance along the vap'ry deep;
And marks its billows ebbing fast away,
Hills, woods, and lawns, emerging into day;
Then, while rejoic'd, the rising sun he sees,
His fires still temper'd by the fresh'ning breeze;
He eyes, with honest scorn, the sun-burnt plains,
Where groans the slave, the fearful despot reigns;
Turns, proud of heart, to his belov'd abode,
And independence hails the mountain-god.
His looks now to the distant ocean stray,
Where white sails gleam upon the wat❜ry way;
Ah, wretched man he cries, still doom'd to roam,
Nor know, like me, the happiness of home.
At eve, victorious, o'er the boar he turns,
Where, in his hut, the cheerful night-fire burns ;
The feast divides, with simple pleasures blest,
And 'midst his children, sinks to fearless rest.
ALONG the deep blue seas that India lave,
Hush'd every blast, and calm'd each ruder wave,
Behold the exulting vessel wing her way,
Her sails proud swelling to the tropic day.
Swift, while her course consenting west winds guide,
She moves, the empress of the sparkling tide,
Joy fills each bosom, Hope assumes her stand,
High on the deck, and points the expected land;
Spreads the fresh green of Coromandel's shades,
And paints the glowing forms of Hindû maids.
See, sudden smoke aspire! Impatient springs
The ruddy flame, and waves his glittering wings.
Feeble at first: but rising in his might,
More vast his limbs, his form more dazzling bright,
He scorns restraint, along the deck extends,
Glides through the cordage, the tall mast ascends;
Nor pauses, spreading, till one mighty blaze,
His conquest to the reddening deep displays.
Then rise the screams of anguish; then, despair
Darts, with a yell of triumph through the air;
On fiery wings behold the Demon move,
Point to the waves below, the flames above,
Bid, with tremendous accents, hope depart,
And, with benumbing grasp, seize every shuddering
heart.
WHERE fire-enthroned, Zaara's genius reigns,
And shoots full glances o'er his joyless plains;
Blasts vegetation with his poisonous breath,
wraps the traveller in his sands of death; Can nature smile? Does aught the view descry, But sandy desert, and a flaming sky?
Yes; close embosom'd in that dreary waste,
Kind Providence a verdant isle hath plac'd;
Whose thick'ning shades the torrid rays repel;
Where, mingling beauties, Spring and Autumn dwell.
Against the ramparts of her fair domain,
The demons of the desert rage in vain.
In vain, the invader, Heat, his arrows plies,
Cool flow her fountains, green her palm trees rise;
Safe from his burning shafts, light zephyrs play,
Amid her groves, among her streamlets stray;
Collect the fragrant tribute of her flowers,
And breathe perfume and freshness on her bowers.
THE MOON AND THE COMET.
THIS fact is clear; both man and woman
Prize not what's good, but the uncommon:
And most delighted still they are,
Not with the excellent, but rare.
I could, of this, give proofs most stable,
But, for example, take a fable.
'Twas night, but still a mimic day
Was scatter'd from the milky way;
And, now, the bright unclouded moon
Was riding in her highest noon;
Who, as she slowly sail'd along,
Beheld a most unusual throng,
With eyes upraised devoutly gazing
And heard; "Behold! see there! amazing!"
"What can this mean?" Dame Cynthia said,
"Perhaps," and high she drew her head,
"Perhaps that I, to earth, this night,
Shine with unwonted beauty bright;
And therefore mortals in amaze,
Come crowding forth, on me to gaze:"
And then (for heavenly beauties love,
Like earthly fair, applause to move)
She stooped within a lake below,
To see how looked her sparkling brow;
And as her crescent she adjusted,
She thought, if mirrors might be trusted,
That night, so wondrous was her beauty,
To gaze at her was mortals' duty.
But, Oh! sad fall to female pride!
She soon, with wondering looks descried,
'Twas not on her, all eyes were turn'd;
For her no curious ardour burn'd;
At her, no telescopes were aim'd,
Nor wonder at her charms proclaim'd:
Some other idol, now, she found
Had fickle man in fetters bound:
And Cynthia was compell'd to own,
Unprais'd her matchless beauty shone.
"But what," she cries, "thus rivals me?
I all the stars and planets see;
Orion has his belt in order;
Of Saturn's ring, bright shines the border;
Mars sports his coat of reddest hue;
The Bear has put his horses too;
But still, these sights so oft are seen,
There's nothing new in them, I ween;
And, after all, I know the cry,
Is, they are nought, when I am by.
'Tis strange, and I shall surely pout,
Until I have found my rival out."
This said, she look'd on every side
With eager looks of wounded pride;
And round, with all the spite, inspected,
Of conscious beauty quite neglected;
When, lo, she saw with wondering breast,
Just twinkling in the clear north-west,
And faintly seen, since seen from far,
A rayless misty, long-tail'd star;
While homage from her charms was ravish'd
To be on this poor comet lavish'd.
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