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And such the new-born heroes found it here,
Remorse for the black deed as yet half done,
VII. The launch is crowded with the faithful few Who wait their chief, a melancholy crew: But some remain'd reluctant on the deck Of that proud vessel - now a moral wreck — And view'd their captain's fate with piteous eyes ; While others scoff"d his augur'd miseries, Sneer'd at the prospect of his pigmy sail, And the slight bark so laden and so frail. The tender nautilus, who steers his prow, The sea-born sailor of his shell canoe, The ocean Mab, the fairy of the sea, Seems far less fragile, and, alas ! more free. He, when the lightning-wing'd tornados sweep The surge, is safe — his port is in the deepAnd triumphs o'er the armadas of mankind, Which shake the world, yet crumble in the wind.
IX. The arctic sun rose broad above the wave; The breeze now sank, now whisper'd from his cave; As on the Æolian harp, his fitful wings Now swell’d, now flutter'd o'er his ocean strings. With slow, despairing oar, the abandon'd skiff Ploughs its drear progress to the scarce-seen cliff, Which lifts its peak a cloud above the main : That boat and ship shall never meet again ! But 't is not mine to tell their tale of grief, Their constant peril, and their scant relief ; Their days of danger, and their nights of pain; 'Their manly courage even when deem'd in vain ; The sapping famine, rendering scarce a son Known to his mother in the skeleton; The ills that lessen'd still their little store, And starved even Hunger till he wrung no more ; The varying frowns and favours of the deep, That now almost ingulfs, then leaves to creep With crazy oar and shatter'd strength along The tide that yields reluctant to the strong; The incessant fever of that arid thirst Which welcomes, as a well, the clouds that burst Above their naked bones, and feels delight In the cold drenching of the stormy night, And from the outspread canvass gladly wrings A drop to moisten life's all-gasping springs; The savage foe escaped, to seek again More hospitable shelter from the main ; The ghastly spectres which were doom'd at last To tell as true a tale of dangers past, As ever the dark annals of the deep Disclosed for man to dread or woman weep.
VIII. When all was now prepared, the vessel clear, Which hail'd her master in the mutineer A seaman, less obdurate than his mates, Showd the vain pity which but irritates ; Watch'd his late chieftain with exploring eye, And told, in signs, repentant sympathy; Held the moist shaddock to his parched mouth, Which felt exhaustion's deep and bitter drouth : But soon observed, this guardian was withdrawn, Nor further mercy clouds rebellion's dawn.! Then forward stepp'd the bold and froward boy His chief had cherish'd only to destroy, And, pointing to the helpless prow beneath, Exclaim'd, “ Depart at once ! delay is death !" Yet then, even then, his feelings ceased not all : In that last moment could a word recall
X. We leave them to their fate, but not unknown Nor unredress'd. Revenge may have her own : Roused discipline aloud proclaims their cause, And injured navies urge their broken laws. Pursue we on his track the mutineer, Whom distant vengeance had not taught to fear. Wide o'er the wave --- away ! away ! away! Once more his eyes shall hail the welcome bay ; Once more the happy shores without a law Receive the outlaws whom they lately saw ;
(* Isaic Martin, I saw, had an inclination to assist me; and as he led me with shaddock, my lips being quite parched, we explained each other's sentiments by looks. But this was observa, and he was removed. He then got into the boat, but was compelled to return." - Bligh.]
: (* Christian then said, ' Come, Captain Bligh, your officers and men are now in the boat, and you must go with them : if you attempt to make the least resistance, you will instantly be put to death ;' and, without further ceremony, I *u forced over the side by a tribe of armed ruffians, where tbar untied my hands. Being in the boat, we were veered astera by a rope. A few pieces of pork were thrown to us,
also the four cutlasses. After having been kept some time to make sport for these uinfeeling wretches, and having undergone much ridicule, we were at length cast adrift in the open ocean. Eighteen persons were with me in the boat.
When we were sent away, · Huzza for Otaheite!' was frequently heard among the mutineers. Christian, the chief of them, was of a respectable family in the north of England. While they were forcing me out of the ship, I asked him whether this was a proper return for the many instances he had ex. perienced of my friendship ? He appeared disturbed at the question, and answered, with much emotion, That-Captain Bligh - that is the thing - I am in hell - I am in hell!!". Blign.)
Nature, and Nature's goddess — woman — woos
And, wet and shining from the sportive toil,
CANTO TIIE SECOND.
III. But now the dance is o'er — yet stay awhile ; Ah, pause ! nor yet put out the social smile. To-morrow for the Mooa we depart, But not to-night-to-night is for the heart. Again bestow the wreaths we gently woo, Ye young enchantresses of gay Licoo ! How lovely are your forms! how every sense Bows to your beauties, soften'd, but intense, Like to the flowers on Mataloco's steep, Which fling their fragrance far athwart the deep!We too will see Licoo; but-oh! ny heart! What do I say? - to-morrow we depart !
I. How pleasant were the songs of Toobonais, When summer's sun went down the coral bay ! Come, let us to the islet's softest shade, And hear the warbling birds ! the damsels said : The wood-dove from the forest depth shall coo, Like voices of the gods from Bolotoo; Well cull the flowers that grow above the dead, For these most bloom where rests the warrior's head; And we will sit in twilight's face, and see The sweet moon glancing through the tooa tree, The lofty accents of whose sighing bough Shall sadly please us as we lean below; Or climb the steep, and view the surf in vain Wrestle with rocky giants o'er the main, Which spurn in columns back the baffled spray. How beautiful are these ! how happy they, Who, from the toil and tumult of their lives, Steal to look down where nought but ocean strives ! Even he too loves at times the blue lagoon, And smooths his ruffled mane beneath the moon.
IV. Thus rose a song - the harmony of times Before the winds blew Europe o'er these climes. True, they had vices — such are Nature's growth But only the barbarian's— we have both: The sordor of civilisation, mix'd With all the savage which man's fall hath fix'd. Who hath not seen Dissimulation's reign, The prayers of Abel link'd to deeds of Cain ? Who such would see may from his lattice view The Old World more degraded than the New, Now new no more, save where Columbia rears Twin giants, born by Freedom to her spheres, Where Chimborazo, over air, earth, wave, Glares with his Titan eye, and sees no slave.
II. Yes - from the sepulchre we 'll gather flowers, Then feast like spirits in their promised bowers, Then plunge and revel in the rolling surf, Then lay our limbs along the tender turf,
V. Such was this ditty of Tradition's days, Which to the dead a lingering fame conveys
1 The now celebrated bread.fruit, to transplant which Captain Bligh's expedition was undertaken.
? (The vessel in which Jason embarked in quest of the golden fleece.)
3 The first three sections are taken from an actual song of
the Tonga Islanders, of which a prose translation is given in “ Mariner's Account of the Tonga Islands." Toobonai is not however one of them ; but was one of those where Christian and the inutineers took refuge. I have altered and adued, but have retained as much as possible of the original
In song, where fame as yet hath left no sign
The sun-born blood suffused her neck, and threw
VI. And sweetly now those untaught melodies Broke the luxurious silence of the skies, The sweet siesta of a summer day, The tropic afternoon of Toobonai, When every flower was bloom, and air was balm, And the first breath began to stir the palm, The first yet voiceless wind to urge the wave All gently to refresh the thirsty cave, Where sat the songstress with the stranger boy, Who taught her passion's desolating joy, Too powerful over every heart, but most O'er those who know not how it may be lost; O'er those who, burning in the new-born fire, Like martyrs revel in their funeral pyre, With such devotion to their ecstasy, That life knows no such rapture as to die : And die they do; for earthly life has nought Match'd with that burst of nature, even in thought, And all our dreams of better life above But close in one eternal gush of love.
VII. There sat the gentle savage of the wild, In growth a woman, though in years a child, As childhood dates within our colder clime, Where nought is ripen'd rapidly save crime; The infant of an infant world, as pure From nature - lovely, warm, and premature ; Dusky like night, but night with all her stars ; Or cavern sparkling with its native spars ; With eyes that were a language and a spell, A form like Aphrodite's in her shell, With all her loves around her on the deep, Voluptuous as the tirst approach of sleep; Yet full of life — for through her tropic check The blush would make its way, and all but speak;
VIII. And who is he ? the blue-eyed northern child i Of isles more known to man, but scarce less wild ; The fair-hair'd offspring of the Hebrides, Where roars the Pentland with its whirling seas ; Rock'd in his cradle by the roaring wind, The tempest-born in body and in mind, His young eyes opening on the ocean-foam, Had from that moment deem'd the deep his home, The giant comrade of his pensive moods, The sharer of his craggy solitudes, The only Mentor of his youth, where'er His bark was borne ; the sport of wave and air; A careless thing, who placed his choice in chance, Nursed by the legends of his land's romance ; Eager to hope, but not less firm to bear, Acquainted with all feelings save despair. Placed in the Arab's clime, he would have been As bold a rover as the sands have seen, And braved their thirst with as enduring lip As Ishmael, wafted on his desert-ship; % Fix'd upon Chili's shore, a proud cacique ; On Hellas' mountains, a rebellious Greek; Born in a tent, perhaps a Tamerlane ; Bred to a throne, perhaps unfit to reign. For the same soul that rends its path to sway, If rear'd to such, can find no further prey Beyond itself, and must retrace its
way Plunging for pleasure into pain: the same Spirit which made a Nero, Rome's worst shame, A humbler state and discipline of heart, Had form'd his glorious namesake's counterpart ; *
! (George Stewart. “He was," says Bligh, “ a young man of creditable parents in the Orkneys; at which place, on the return of the Resolution from the South Seas, in 1780, we
receiveri so raany civilities, that, on that account only, I || should gladly have taken him with me; but, independent of
this recoinreodation, he was a seaman, and had always borne a good character."]
* The “ ship of the desert" is the Oriental figure for the camel op dromedary; and they deserve the metaphor well, the former for his endurance, the latter for his swiftness.
“ Lucullus, when frugality could charm,
Had roasted turnips in the Sabine farm." - Pore. • The consul Nero, who made the unequalled march which deceived Hannibal, and defeated Asdrubal; thereby accom. plishing an achievement almost unrivalled 'n military annals. The first intelligence of his return, to Hannibal, was the sight of Asdrubal's head thrown into his carnp. When Han. nibil saw this, he exclaimed with a sigh, that " Rome would now be the mistress of the world." And yet to this victory of Xero's it might be owing that his imperial namesake reigned
But grant his vices, grant them all his own,
X. By Neuha's side be sate, and watch'd the waters, Neuha, the sun-flower of the island daughters, High born, (a birth at which tbe herald smiles, Without a scutcheon for these secret isles,) of a long race, the valiant and the free, The naked knights of savage chivalry, Whose grassy cairns ascend along the shore; And thine - I've seen - Achilles ! do no more. She, when the thunder-bearing strangers came, In vast canoes, begirt with bolts of fame, Topp'd with tall trees, which, loftier than the palm, Seem'd rooted in the deep amidst its calm : But when the winds awaken'd, shot forth wings Broad as the cloud along the horizon flings, And sway'd the waves, like cities of the sea, Making the very billows look less free; She, with her paddling oar and dancing prow, Shot through the surf, like reindeer through the snow, Swift-gliding o'er the breaker's whitening edge, Light as a nereid in her ocean sledge, And gazed and wonder'd at the giant hulk, Which heaved from wave to wave its trampling bulk: The anchor dropp'd ; it lay along the deep, Like a huge lion in the sun asleep, While round it swarm'd the proas' Aitting chain, Like summer bees that hum around his mane.
The sea-spread net, the lightly-launch'd canoe,
XI. The white man landed ! — need the rest be told ? The New World stretch'd its dusk hand to the Old ; Each was to each a marvel, and the tie Of wonder warmd to better sympathy. Kind was the welcome of the sun-born sires, And kinder still their daughters' gentler fires. Their union grew: the children of the storm Found beauty link'd with many a dusky form ; While these in turn admired the paler glow, Which seem'd so white in climes that knew no snow. The chase, the race, the liberty to roam, The soil where every cottage show'd a home;
XIII. The love which maketh all things fond and fair, The youth which makes one rainbow of the air, The dangers past, that make even man enjoy The pause in which he ceases to destroy, The mutual beauty, which the sternest feel Strike to their hearts like lightning to the steel, United the half savage and the whole, The maid and boy, in one absorbing soul. No more the thundering memory of the fight Wrapp'd his wean'd bosom in its dark delight;
at all. But the infamy of the one has eclipsed the glory of the other. When the name of " Vero" is heard, who thinks of the consul ? – But such are human things !
I When very roung, about eight years of age, after an at. tack of the scarlet lever at Aberdeen, I was removed by me. dical adrice into the Highlands, Here I passed occasionally some summers, and from this period I date my love of moun.
tainocs countries. I can never forget the effect, a few years afterwards, in England, of the only thing I had long seen, even in miniature, of a mountain, in the Malrern Hills. After I returned to Cheltenham, I rised to watch them every afternoon, at sunset, with a sensation which I cannot describe. This was boyish enough ; but I was then only thirteen years of age, and it was in the holidays.
No more the irksome restlessness of rest
The nightingale, their only vesper-bell,
XVII. Neuha arose, and Torquil : twilight's hour Came sad and softly to their rocky bower, Which, kindling by degrees its dewy spars, Echoed their dim light to the mustering stars. Slowly the pair, partaking nature's calm, Sought out their cottage, built beneath the palm ; Now smiling and now silent, as the scene; Lovely as Love — the spirit ! — when serene. The Ocean scarce spoke louder with his swell, Than breathes his mimic murmurer in the shell, ?
1 The now well-known story of the loves of the nightingale and rose need not be more than alluded to, being sutliciently familiar to the Western as to the Eastern reader.
If the reader will apply to his ear the sea-shell on his chimney-piece, he will be aware of what is alluded to. If the text should appear obscure, he will find in " Gebir" the same idea better expressed in two lines. The poem I never read, but have heard the lines quoted by a more recondite reader -who seems to be of a different opinion from the editor of the Quarterly Review, who qualified it, in his answer to the Cri. tical Reviewer of his Juvenal, as trash of the worst and most insane description. It is to Mr. Landor, the author of " Gebir," so qualitied, and of some Latin poems, which vie with Martial or Catullus in obscenity, that the immaculate Mr. Southey addresses his declamation against impurity ! (Mr. Landor's lines above alluded to are —
* For I have often seen her with both hands
Shike a dry crocodile of equal height,
And fancy there was life, and yet apply,
The jagged jaws wide open to the car." In the “ Excursion" of Wordsworth occurs the following exquisite passage:
“ I have seen