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health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.
immortal man! behold her glories shine,
and cry exultingly, they are thine
gaze on, while yet thy gladdened eyes may see,
a morrow comes when they are not for thee.
in the same spirit cowper begins his poem on hope:
see nature gay as when she first began,
with smiles alluring her admirer, man,
she spreads the morning over eastern hills.
earth glitters with the drops the night distils.
the sun obedient at her call appears
to fling his glories oer the robe she wears,
. to proclaim
his happiness, her dear, her only aim.
the thracians, says cicero, wept when a child was born, and feasted
and made merry when a man went out of the world, and with reason. show
me the man who knows what life is, and dreads death, and ill show
thee a prisoner who dreads his liberty.
of the misery of human life, gray speaks in similar terms:
to all their sufferings all are men,
condemnd alike to groan,
the feeling for anothers pain,
the unfeeling for his own.
audi alteram partem:
its a happy world after all._paley_.
and gray himself:
for who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
this careful, anxious being eer resigned,
eer left the precincts of the _cheerful day_
nor cast one longing, lingering look behind.
and another popular author:
a world of pleasure is continually streaming in on every side. it
only depends on man to be a demi-god, and to convert this world
into elysium._gaieties and gravities_.
it is doubtless wise to incline to the latter sentiment.
of the instability of human happiness and glory, a fine picture is
drawn by appian, who represents scipio weeping over the destruction of
carthage. when he saw this famous city, which had flourished seven
hundred years, and might have been compared to the greatest empires,
on account of the extent of its dominions, both by sea and land,
its mighty armies, its fleets, elephants and riches; and that the
carthaginians were even superior to other nations, by their courage
and greatness of soul, as, notwithstanding their being deprived of
arms and ships, they had sustained for three whole years, all the
hardships and calamities of a long siege; seeing, i say, this city
entirely ruined, historians relate that he could not refuse his tears
to the unhappy fate of carthage. he reflected that cities, nations,
and empires are liable to revolutions, no less than particular men;
that the like sad fate had befallen troy, once so powerful; and in
later times, the assyrians, medes, and persians, whose dominions were
once of so great an extent; and lastly, the macedonians, whose empire
had been so glorious throughout the world. full of these mournful
ideas, he repeated the following verse of homer:
the day shall come, that great avenging day,
which troys proud glories in the dust shall lay,
when priams powers, and priams self shall fall,
and one prodigious ruin swallow all
thereby denouncing the future destiny of rome, as he himself confessed
to polybius, who desired scipio to explain himself on that occasion.
a coasting scrap.
(_for the mirror_.)
it was a bright summer afternoon: the estuary of poole harbour lay
extended before me; its broad expanse studded with inlands of sand and
furze bushes, of which brownsea is the most considerable. a slight
ripple marked the deeper channels which were of a blue colour, and the
shallow mud banks being but barely covered by the tide, appeared like
sheets of molten silver. the blue hills of purbeck bounded the distant
heath-lands to the westward, and the harbour extended itself inland
towards the town of wareham, becoming more and more intricate in its
navigation, although it receives the contributions of two rivers, the
piddle and the froome, arising probably from the soil carried down by
the streams, and the faint action of the tide at a distance of eight
or ten miles from the mouth of the harbour. the wareham clay boats
added life to the scene. some were wending their way through the
intricate channels close hauled upon a wind; others were going right
away with a flowing sheet. on the eastern side was the bold sweep of
the shore, extending to the mouth of the harbour, and terminating in a
narrow point of bright sand hills, separating the quiet waters of the
harbour from the boisterous turmoilings of the english channel.
sauntering along the quay of poole, indulging in a kind of reverie,
thinking, or in fact, thinking of nothing at all, (a kind of waking
dream, when hundreds of ideas, recollections, and feelings float with
wonderful rapidity through the brain,) my attention was attracted by
a stout, hardy-faced pilot, with water boots on his legs, and a red,
woollen night-cap on his head, who was driving a very earnest bargain
for a small, but elegant assortment, of dabs and flounders. dree
and zixpence if you like, said he. i could a bought vour times as
much vor one and zixpence coast-ways, if id a mind, and ill give
thee no more, and not a word of a lie. his oratory conquered the
coyness of the fishy damsel; and he invited the lady to take a glass
of zomat avore he topped his boom for swanwidge.
having before me the certainty of a dull, monotonous afternoon, and
cheerless evening, without any visible means of amusement, i instantly
closed a bargain with dick hart (for such was the pilots name) to
give me a cast to swanwidge. in a short time i found myself on board
a trim, little pilot boat, gliding along the waters as the sun was
sliding his downward course, and shedding a mellow radiance over the
distant scenery towards lytchett. the white steeple of poole church
was lighted by the rays, while the town presented a neat and
picturesque appearance with the masts of the shipping cutting against
the blue sky.
dick hart formed no small feature in the scene as he stood at the helm
with his red cap and black, curly hair, smoking a short, clay pipe,
which like his own face, had become rather brown in service. he looked
around him with an air of independence and unconcern, as the monarch
of all he surveyed, casting his eye up now and then at the trim of
his canvass, but more frequently keeping it on me. dick began to open
his budget of chat, and i found him as full of fun as his mainsail was
full of nettles.
a voice from the forecastle called out to dick, who was so intent on
his story that the helm slipped from his hand, and the ship flew up
in the wind, mind, skipper, or you will run down old betty. i was
astonished at the insinuation against my noble captain that he was
likely to behave rude to a lady, but my suspicions were soon removed,
when i saw old betty was a buoy, floating on the waters, adorned with
a furze bush. old betty danced merrily on the rippling wave with her
furze bush by way of a feather, with shreds of dried sea weed hanging
to it forming ribbons to complete the head dress of the lady buoy.
the nearer we approached, the more rapid did betty dance, and when
we passed close alongside of her, she curtsied up and down as if to
welcome our visit. dick narrated why a buoy placed at the head of a
mud bank obtained the name of a _lady fair_, and i briefly noted it
many years ago a single lady resided at poole, of plain manners,
unaffected simplicity, affable, yet retiring, and
passing rich with forty pounds a-year.
the gentry courted her, but she still adhered to her secluded habits.
year after year rolled on, and though some may have admired her,
she was never led to the altar, and consequently her condition was
_unaltered_. kind and friendly neighbours kept a vigilant eye upon her
proceedings, but her character was unimpeachable; and they all agreed
that she was a very suspicious person, because they could not slander
her. she lived a blameless single lady