And fancy accents sad and strange

Along the ocean's weary range,
All-in those dizzying hours of dread-

Seemed as though earth and heaven had fled
For ever, from the eye and ear,

That knew no objects but of fear :-
The sun, that stained the burning flood,
It rose in fire, it sank in blood-
The mist, that hurrying whirlwinds sweep,
Fast, like a spectre o'er the deep.
-Like that red sun, that spectre cloud
Darkened and flamed my spirit proud!—

"Yet were there moments of delight;
'Twas sweet to roam o'er moonlight seas,
"Twas sweet to breathe the landward breeze,
While not a sound the silence broke,
And not a stir the bosom woke,-
Was there no sound?—The dirge-like flow
Of Ocean murmurs sad and low,
And, from the convent on the rock,
Chimes the slow warning of the clock,
And, o'er the billows bright and calm,
At times you hear the plaintive psalm,
And just can see the shadows dim
Of monks, who pour that measured hymn :
-My soul, though long untuned to bliss,
Mourned not 'mid such a scene as this!-
What odours 'wake from every grove,
What thousand twinkling leaflets move,
What quivering shadows sportive play,
And o'er the water shift and stray!
-I loved to mark the Pharos' light
Streak the blue wave with trembling white,
And gleam serene upon my bark,-
Like Hope, when all around was dark!
Then thoughts of former hours would roll
Faint through the darkness of my soul.
I dwelt upon my daughter's doom,
I saw her bright in beauty's bloom
Returning to her sire, to shine
And shed repose on his decline:
And in such hour, that son, whose fate
Hath made this bosom desolate,
Even him again I seemed to see

Burst from the tomb to life and me!

Strange fancies then would I conceive,

Such even as madness dotes to weave,

And I too loved the dear deceit,

It was so wild, so sad, so sweet.

Silence and utter solitude

Had soothed me to a pensive mood;

Methought at length had ceased the strife,
The woes, the weariness of life,-

Methought the pang of death was o'er,
And I was journeying to the shore
Where gladness dwells for evermore ;
The boundless ocean seemed to me
The waters of eternity,

And glories from another sky
In distant prospect blest mine eye;

A moment glowed the vision bright-
A moment-and again 'twas night!-

"Thou, boy, art young, and yet some friend Of thine may sleep the grave's cold sleep; Mayhap thou lovest alone to bend

Above his tomb and weep!

Or hast thou loved a form divine,

Whose hopes, whose heart, whose soul was thinc
Whose eye, whene'er thine met its view,
Bevealed the spirit sparkling through?

And has thy loved and loving bride
Left thee in loneliness, and died ?—

-Deep may'st thou sigh, but can'st not know

The anguish of a father's woe :—

The camp, the field, the court, the bower,
Another smiling paramour,

And youth and years bring thee relief;

But think upon the restless grief

Of him, whose hopes were fixed upon
A dearer self, an only son,

Whose hand should prop him on the brink,
Ere yet into the grave he sink,—

Whose arm-but it is pain to think!—
-Blame not such father, but his fate,
If he may seem too much to hate
The wretch, by whom he was undone,-
The infidel-who slew his son !-

I see the swan sail calmly by,

And the ringlet formed by the falling fly,
The woodbines wreathing the coloured crag,
The lifted head of the antlered stag :-
Light breezes wake the soft air, rife
With playful atoms of insect life ;-
Light breezes bend the head of the rose,
And scatter on earth the cistus' snows;
The clouds and the mists are sailing by,
And fading fast in the blue of the sky;
The streaks of coloured light, that shone
O'er the chambers of the east, are gone ;
The sunbeams fall, like a silent shower,
Through the stirring leaves of the budding bower,—
And, MEINA, before mine eye thou art,
As when first thy loveliness fix'd my heart;
With the bridal wreath my fingers wound
Thy sunny locks again are bound;

Thy hand moves swift o'er the harp I strung,
Thy voice is busy with lays I sung-

Look up, my Beloved, thy wanderer's at home!

-I looked for her glance, and I saw-the sea-foam; I saw once more that lovely scene,

But the cold blue water gushed between ;

I gazed again with a searching eye,
But the dream of delight had for ever gone by
'Tis strange in those moments no sorrow woke,
No thought of my son the transport broke!

"Still was I musing on this scene,
When, lo! an armed brigantine,
With sail outspread, and streamer flowing,
And oarsmen rapidly all rowing!-
I viewed her break the foamy main,
And, though I gazed and gazed again,
Methought it was my idle brain

Had shaped the phantom fair;
And still I gazed, and still I thought
The creature strange that fancy wrought
Would fade away in air;

More near approached the pirate bark,-
Its shadow fell more long and dark,-
They reached my little boat :-appalled,
On Allah's name in prayer I called;
Till then, while on my lonely way,
In sooth I had no heart to pray-
The steersman heard the name divine,
And blest him with the Christian sign,
And smiled;-I saw that sneer before,
When my son, sinking, writhed in gore,-
That moment o'er my spirit cross'd
The thought of all I loved and lost
-Oh! I have seen the tiger crouch
To watch the pilgrim's grassy couch,
Have marked the burning eye-ball's glare
Ere yet he leaves his silent lair,
Like him the captive ZAMRI lay,
With eye, that rested on his prey.

;

"Dark fell the night-and fierce and fast, Through riven sail and crashing mast, The lightning's hurrying arrows past

:

Yes! Heaven's own lightning was my guide, And Heaven's own strength my arm supplied,

The wind was loud, the thunder pealed,
In prayer the frighted pilot kneeled ;-
A sudden tide of passion gushed
Along my veins, and forth I rushed,-
Swift, as the lightning's winged dart,
The sabre's point was in his heart!

"A moment undisturbed I stood,
And gazed in gladness on the blood ;-
They viewed in fear, but did not seize

The avenger, standing o'er the slain ;
It seemed mine eye had power to freeze
The life that paused in every vein,
So chill each look, so hushed each breath,
Of those who saw that scene of death :-
And yet no stir :-I heard alone
One throbbing pulse, one deep-drawn groan
Disturb the general hush;

I saw one struggling heave of pain,
As bursting from the broken vein
The rapid life-drops gush.

"A moment, and mine eye was dim,-
I did not see, I did not think,

But through each pulse and through each limb
I felt my failing spirit shrink:

Yet all was hushed-one moment more
They seized the hand still hot with gore!→
-Ah! senseless ones! why seize this hand?
Will he, for whom hath been untwined
Each tie, that linked him to his kind,
Pause now to think on axe and brand?
Think ye he stands to calculate

How best to 'scape the murderer's fate,
That thus ye wreathe your idle bands
Round moveless feet and passive hands?
Thought ye the sight of sun or star,

Thought ye the breath and dews of heaven,
One added rapture could have given,
That thus in wrath ye flung me far
From all the scenes that can impart
Enjoyment to the untroubled heart?
Thought ye, when in your dungeon cast,
And lingering there companionless,
The long and weary hours I past

Abandoned tamely to distress ?No! I have listened to the breeze, And heard the music of the seas,

And joyous echoed every sound

That swept my prison-house around

Yes! if thou wilt, pronounce it madness-
Oft with my fettered feet I sprang,

Oft did I clash my chains in gladness,
Oft in delirious joy I sang-

My righted son was with me there,
And joy was in his eye and air,
Nor could I wish his fortune changed,
Whose death so deeply was avenged.
-Why did ye fling me thus from light?
Thought ye I cared for noon or night?
-My prison hours were hours of joy,
Yet interchanged with agony—
Yes! raptures rose like waves that reach
The proud rocks of some lonely beach,

Then ebb, and, where they cease to heave,
Oh, what a dreary waste they leave !—

"How wildly then did passions rave!
The Moon of Madness ruled the wave-*
What bursts of splendour light the Deep,
What shadows o'er its surges sweep!-
-I cannot linger here, to tell

The tortures Man prepared for me,
The blood that stained my lonely cell,
The soul he vainly sought to quell,
That, when the body shrank and fell,
Groaned not amid the agony !—

I called for tortures-and I felt
Strange pleasure in the stripes they dealt
In rage they struck-I loved to shew
With what calm scorn I bore the blow-
Still did they meanly spare this breath,
Lest suffering should be 'scap'd by death!

-"Amid such shocks of outward strife,

Such dreams, each wilder than the past,
My brain with fearful visions rife,
My body worn, 'twas strange that life
Sank not beneath the weight at last!"

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE REV. BLACKTHORN M'FLAIL, LATE P. P.

OF BALLYMACWHACKEM.

Written by his Cousin, the Rev. Phedlim M'Fun, Roman Catholic Rector of Ballymacscaltheen.

CHAP. III.-THE CHRISTENING.

This image is from the Persian Tales of Inatulla.