So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
They cannot see the sun on high:
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land;

Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon."

"Canst hear," said one,

"the breakers roar?

For yonder, methinks, should be the shore—
Now where we are I cannot tell,

But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell!"

They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock:
Oh woe! "It is the Inchcape Rock!"

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
He cursed himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.

SOUTHEY.

LXI

THE CONVICT SHIP.

Morn on the waters !—and, purple and bright,
Bursts on the billows the flushing of light;

O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun,
See, the tall vessel goes gallantly on;

Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,

And her pennon streams onward, like hope, in the gale ;
The winds come around her with murmur and song,
And the surges rejoice as they bear her along;
See! she looks up to the golden-edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gaily aloft in the shrouds:
Onward she glides, amid ripple and spray,
Over the waters-away, and away!

Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part,
Passing away, like a dream of the heart!
Who-as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,
Music around her, and sunshine on high-
Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow,
Oh! there be hearts that are breaking below!

Night on the waves! and the moon is on high,
Hung like a gem, on the brow of the sky,
Treading its depths in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light!
Look to the waters !-asleep on their breast,
Seems not the ship like an island of rest?

Bright and alone on the shadowy main,

Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain !

Who-as she smiles in the silvery light,
Spreading her wings on the bosom of night,
Alone on the deep, as the moon in the sky,
A phantom of beauty-could deem, with a sigh,
That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin,

And that souls that are smitten lie bursting within ?
Who-as he watches her silently gliding-
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,
Hearts which are parted and broken for ever ?
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave!

'Tis thus with our life, while it passes along,
Like a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song!
Gaily we glide in the gaze of the world,

With streamers afloat, and with canvas unfurled;
All gladness and glory, to wondering eyes,

Yet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with sighs :

Fading and false is the aspect it wears,

As the smiles we put on, just to cover our tears;

While the withering thoughts which the world cannot know,

Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below;

And the vessel drives on to that desolate shore

Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er.

HERVEY.

N

LXII

SIR PATRICK SPENS.

The King sat in Dunfermline town
Drinking the blood-red wine—
"Oh where shall I get a skeely skipper,
To sail this ship of mine?"

Then up and spake an eldern knight
That sat at the King's right knce,
"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That sails upon the sea."

The King has written a letter broad,
And sealed it with his hand;
The news came to Sir Patrick Spens
When walking on the strand.

To Norraway, to Norraway,

To Norway through the foam; The King's daughter of Norraway, 'Tis thou must bring her home.

The first word that Sir Patrick read
A loud laugh laughed he;
The next word that Sir Patrick read
The tear stood in his ee'.

"Oh who is this hath done this deed,
To tell the King of me?

To send us out at this time o' the year
To sail upon the sea

?

"Be't rain, be't wet, be't hail, be't sleet, Our ship maun through the foam ; The King's daughter of Norraway 'Tis we maun bring her home."

They hoisted their sails on Monenday
To make what speed they may
They hae landed in Norraway
Upon a Wodensday.

They had not been a week, a week,

In Norraway but twae,

When that the men of Norraway

Began aloud to say;

"Ye Scots spend all our good King's gold

And all our Queenis fee".

"'Tis false, 'tis false, ye liars loud,

Ye lee, sae loud ye lee.

"For I brought as much white money

As served my men and me;

And I brought a bag fu' of gude red gold Out o'er the sea with me."