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Tell how storms deform the skies,
Whence the waves subside and rise,
Trace the comet's blazing tail,
Weigh the planets in a scale;

Bend, great God, before thy shrine,
The bournless macrocosm's thine.

The remainder of this ode, which is rather tedious, has been omitted.

JOHN GILBERT COOPER

[Born, 1723. Died, 1769.]

sioned by the stone. He was a zealous pupil of the Shaftesbury school; and published, besides his Poems, a Life of Socrates, Letters on Taste, and Epistles to the Great from Aristippus in retirement.

WAS of an ancient family in Nottinghamshire, | Fair, after a long and excruciating illness, occaand possessed the estate of Thurgarton Priory, where he exercised the active and useful duties of a magistrate. He resided, however, occasionally in London, and was a great promoter of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts and Manufactures. He died at his house in May

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Through youth and age, in love excelling,
We'll hand in hand together tread ;
Sweet-smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed.
How should I love the pretty creatures,
While round my knees they fondly clung!
To see them look their mother's features,
To hear them lisp their mother's tongue!
And when with envy Time transported,
Shall think to rob us of our joys;
You'll in your girls again be courted,
And I'll go wooing in my boys.

SONG.

THE nymph that I loved was as cheerful as day,
And as sweet as the blossoming hawthorn in May,
Her temper was smooth as the down on the dove,
And her face was as fair as the mother's of love.

Though mild as the pleasantness zephyr that sheds,
And receives gentle odours from violet beds,
Yet warm in affection as Phoebus at noon,
And as chaste as the silver-white beams of the moon.

Her mind was unsullied as new-fallen snow,
Yet as lively as tints of young Iris's bow,
As firm as the rock, and as calm as the flood
Where the peace-loving halcyon deposits her brood.

The sweets that each virtue or grace had in store
She cull'd as the bee would the bloom of each
flower;

Which treasured for me, O! how happy was I,
For though hers to collect, it was mine to enjoy.

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WILLIAM FALCONER was the son of a barber in Edinburgh, and went to sea at an early age in a merchant vessel of Leith. He was afterwards mate of a ship that was wrecked in the Levant, and was one of only three out of her crew that were saved, a catastrophe which formed the subject of his future poem. He was for some time in the capacity of a servant to Campbell, the author of Lexiphanes, when purser of a ship. Campbell is said to have discovered in Falconer talents worthy of cultivation, and when the latter distinguished himself as a poet, used to boast that he had been his scholar. What he learned from Campbell it is not very easy to ascertain. His education, as he often assured Governor Hunter, had been confined to reading, writing, and a little arithmetic, though in the course of his life he picked up some acquaintance with the French,

Spanish, and Italian languages. In these his countryman was not likely to have much assisted him; but he might have lent him books, and possibly instructed him in the use of figures. Falconer published his "Shipwreck" in 1762, and by the favour of the Duke of York, to whom it was dedicated, obtained the appointment of a midshipman in the Royal George, and afterwards that of purser in the Glory frigate. He soon afterwards married a Miss Hicks, an accomplished and beautiful woman, the daughter of the surgeon of Sheerness-yard. At the peace of 1763, he was on the point of being reduced to distressed circumstances by his ship being laid up in ordinary at Chatham, when, by the friendship of Commissioner Hanway, who ordered the cabin of the Glory to be fitted up for his residence, he enjoyed for some time a retreat for study without

expense or embarrassment.

Here he employed himself in compiling his Marine Dictionary, which appeared in 1769, and has been always highly spoken of by those who are capable of estimating | its merits. He embarked also in the politics of the day, as a poetical antagonist to Churchill, but with little advantage to his memory. Before the publication of his Marine Dictionary he had left his retreat at Chatham for a less comfortable abode in the metropolis, and appears to have struggled with considerable difficulties, in the midst of which he received proposals from the late Mr. Murray, the bookseller*, to join him in the business which he had newly established. The cause of his refusing this offer was, in all probability, the appointment which he received to the pursership of the Aurora, East Indiaman. In that ship he embarked for India, in September 1769, but the Aurora was never heard of after she passed the Cape, and was thought to have foundered in the Channel of Mozambique; so that the poet of the "Shipwreck" may be supposed to have perished by the same species of calamity which he had rehearsed.

The subject of the Shipwreck, and the fate of its author, bespeak an uncommon partiality in its favour. If we pay respect to the ingenious scholar who can produce agreeable verses amidst the shades of retirement, or the shelves of his library, how much more interest must we take in the "ship-boy on the high and giddy mast," cherishing refined visions of fancy at the hour which he may casually snatch from fatigue and danger. Nor did Falconer neglect the proper acquirements of seamanship in cultivating poetry, but evinced considerable knowledge of his profession, both in his Marine Dictionary and in the nautical precepts of the Shipwreck. In that poem he may be said to have added a congenial and peculiarly British subject to the language; at least, we had no previous poem of any length of which the characters and catastrophe were purely naval.

The scene of the catastrophe (though he followed only the fact of his own history) was poetically laid amidst seas and shores where the mind easily gathers romantic associations, and where it supposes the most picturesque vicissitudes of

scenery and climate. The spectacle of a majestic
British ship on the shores of Greece brings as
strong a reminiscence to the mind, as can well be
imagined, of the changes which time has wrought
in transplanting the empire of arts and civilisation.
Falconer's characters are few; but the calm saga-
cious commander, and the rough obstinate Rod-
mond, are well contrasted. Some part of the
love-story of" Palemon" is rather swainish and
protracted, yet the effect of his being involved in
the calamity, leaves a deeper sympathy in the
mind for the daughter of Albert, when we con-
ceive her at once deprived both of a father and a
lover. The incidents of the "Shipwreck," like
those of a well-wrought tragedy, gradually deepen,
while they yet leave a suspense of hope and fear
to the imagination. In the final scene there is
something that deeply touches our compassion in
the picture of the unfortunate man who is struck
blind by a flash of lightning at the helm.
I re-
member, by the way, to have met with an affect-
ing account of the identical calamity befalling the
steersman of a forlorn vessel in a similar moment,
given in a prose and veracious history of the loss
of a vessel on the coast of America. Falconer
skilfully heightens this trait by showing its effect
on the commiseration of Rodmond, the roughest
of his characters, who guides the victim of mis-
fortune to lay hold of a sail.

"A flash, quick glancing on the nerves of light,
Struck the pale helmeman with eternal night:
Rodmond, who heard a piteous groan behind,
Touch'd with compassion, gazed upon the blind;
And, while around his sad companions crowd,
He guides th' unhappy victim to the shroud.
Hie thee aloft, my gallant friend! he cries;
Thy only succour on the mast relies!"

The effect of some of his sea-phrases is to give a definite and authentic character to his descriptions; but that of most of them, to a landsman's ear, resembles slang, and produces obscurity . His diction, too, generally abounds with commonplace expletives and feeble lines. His scholarship on the shores of Greece is only what we should accept of from a seaman; but his poem has the sensible charm of appearing a transcript of reality, and leaves an impression of truth and nature on the mind.

FROM "THE SHIPWRECK."

CHARACTER OF THE OFFICERS.

O'ER the gay vessel, and her daring band,
Experienced Albert held the chief command:
Though train'd in boisterous elements, his mind
Was yet by soft humanity refined.
Each joy of wedded love at home he knew;
Abroad confess'd the father of his crew!

[* The father of the publisher of this work.]

[ The first edition has this title: "The Shipwreck. A Poem in Three Cantos. By a Sailor:" and in the pre

Brave, liberal, just, the calm domestic scene Had o'er his temper breathed a gay serene. fatory Advertisement Falconer says that he was forced to explain the sea-phrases, for he could recommend no Marine Dictionary, "without forfeiting his claim to the capacity assumed in the title page, of which he is much more tenacious than of his character as a poet." The poem as first published though in three cantos, its present number, is not one third in extent of what it now is. There is nothing of Albert and Rodmond, Palemon and Anna-it is simply a descriptive poem. The alterations defy enumeration and are everywhere for the better.]

Him science taught by mystic lore to trace
The planets wheeling in eternal race ;
To mark the ship in floating balance held,
By earth attracted and by seas repell'd;

Or point her devious track, through climes unknown,
That leads to every shore and every zone.

He saw the moon through heaven's blue concave
And into motion charm th' expanding tide; [glide,
While earth impetuous round her axle rolls,
Exalts her watery zone, and sinks the poles.
Light and attraction, from their genial source,
He saw still wandering with diminish'd force ;
While on the margin of declining day,
Night's shadowy cone reluctant melts away.-
Inured to peril, with unconquer'd soul,
The chief beheld tempestuous ocean's roll;
His genius, ever for the event prepared,
Rose with the storm, and all its dangers shared.
The second powers and office Rodmond bore:
A hardy son of England's furthest shore!
Where bleak Northumbria pours her savage train
In sable squadrons o'er the northern main;
That, with her pitchy entrails stored, resort,
A sooty tribe! to fair Augusta's port.
Where'er in ambush lurk the fatal sands,
They claim the danger; proud of skilful bands;
For while with darkling course their vessels sweep
The winding shore, or plough the faithless deep,
O'er bar and shelf the watery path they sound,
With dextrous arm; sagacious of the ground:
Fearless they combat ev'ry hostile wind,
Wheeling in mazy tracks with course inclined.
Expert to moor, where terrors line the road;
Or win the anchor from its dark abode :
But drooping and relax'd in climes afar,
Tumultuous and undisciplined in war.
Such Rodmond was; by learning unrefined,
That oft enlightens to corrupt the mind:
Boisterous of manners; train'd in early youth
To scenes that shame the conscious cheek of truth;
To scenes that nature's struggling voice control,
And freeze compassion rising in the soul! [shore,
Where the grim hell-hounds, prowling round the
With foul intent the stranded bark explore-
Deaf to the voice of woe, her decks they board,
While tardy justice slumbers o'er her sword—
Th' indignant Muse, severely taught to feel,
Shrinks from a theme she blushes to reveal!
Too oft example, arm'd with poisons fell,
Pollutes the shrine where mercy loves to dwell:
Thus Rodmond, train'd by this unhallow'd crew,
The sacred social passions never knew:
Unskill'd to argue; in dispute yet loud;
Bold without caution; without honours proud;
In art unschool'd, each veteran rule he prized,
And all improvement haughtily despised:
Yet though full oft to future perils blind,
With skill superior glow'd his daring mind,
Through snares of death the reeling bark to guide,
When midnight shades involve the raging tide.

To Rodmond next, in order of command,
Succeeds the youngest of our naval band.

But what avails it to record a name
That courts no rank among the sons of fame!
While yet a stripling, oft with fond alarms,
His bosom danced to nature's boundless charms;
On him fair science dawn'd in happier hour,
Awakening into bloom young fancy's flower;
But frowning fortune with untimely blast
The blossom wither'd, and the dawn o'ercast.
Forlorn of heart, and by severe decree
Condemn'd reluctant to the faithless sea,
With long farewell he left the laurel grove,
Where science and the tuneful sisters rove.-
Hither he wander'd, anxious to explore
Antiquities of nations now no more;
To penetrate each distant realm unknown,
And range excursive o'er th' untravell❜d zone.
In vain for rude adversity's command,
Still on the margin of each famous land,
With unrelenting ire his steps opposed,
And every gate of hope against him closed.
Permit my verse, ye bless'd Pierian train,
To call Arion this ill-fated swain * !
For, like that bard unhappy, on his head
Malignant stars their hostile influence shed.
Both, in lamenting numbers, o'er the deep,
With conscious anguish taught the harp to weep;
And both the raging surge in safety bore
Amid destruction panting to the shore.
This last our tragic story from the wave
Of dark oblivion haply yet may save;
With genuine sympathy may yet complain,
While sad remembrance bleeds at ev'ry vein.
Such were the pilots; tutor'd to divine
Th' untravell'd course by geometric line;
Train'd to command, and range the various sail,
Whose various force conforms to every gale.—
Charged with the commerce, hither also came
A gallant youth, Palemon was his name ;
A father's stern resentment doom'd to prove,
He came, the victim of unhappy love!
His heart for Albert's beauteous daughter bled;
For her a secret flame his bosom fed.
Nor let the wretched slaves of folly scorn
This genuine passion, nature's eldest born!
"Twas his with lasting anguish to complain,
While blooming Anna mourn'd the cause in vain.
Graceful of form, by nature taught to please,
Of power to melt the female breast with ease,
To her Palemon told his tender tale,
Soft as the voice of summer's evening gale.
O'erjoy'd, he saw her lovely eyes relent;
The blushing maiden smiled with sweet consent.
Oft in the mazes of a neighbouring grove,
Unheard, they breathed alternate vows of love:
By fond society their passion grew,
Like the young blossom fed with vernal dew,

[* Thy woes Arion! and thy simple tale,
O'er all the heart shall triumph and prevail !
Charm'd as they read the verse too sadly true,
How gallant Albert and his weary crew,
Heaved all their guns, their foundering bark to save,
And toil'd-and shriek'd-and perish'd on the wave!
Pleasures of Hope.]

In evil hour th' officious tongue of fame
Betray'd the secret of their mutual flame.
With grief and anger struggling in his breast,
Palemon's father heard the tale confest.
Long had he listen'd with suspicion's ear,
And learn'd, sagacious, this event to fear.
Too well, fair youth! thy liberal heart he knew ;
A heart to nature's warm impressions true!
Full oft his wisdom strove, with fruitless toil,
With avarice to pollute that generous soil :
That soil, impregnated with nobler seed,
Refused the culture of so rank a weed.
Elate with wealth, in active commerce won,
And basking in the smile of fortune's sun,
With scorn the parent eyed the lowly shade,
That veil'd the beauties of this charming maid.
Indignant he rebuked th' enamour'd boy,
The flattering promise of his future joy :
He sooth'd and menaced, anxious to reclaim
This hopeless passion, or divert its aim:
Oft led the youth where circling joys delight
The ravish'd sense, or beauty charms the sight.
With all her powers enchanting music fail'd,
And pleasure's syren voice no more prevail'd.
The merchant, kindling then with proud disdain,
In look and voice assumed an harsher strain.
In absence now his only hope remain'd;
And such the stern decree his will ordain'd.
Deep anguish, while Palemon heard his doom,
Drew o'er his lovely face a saddening gloom.
In vain with bitter sorrow he repined,
No tender pity touch'd that sordid mind;
To thee, brave Albert, was the charge consign'd.
The stately ship, forsaking England's shore,
To regions far remote Palemon bore.
Incapable of change, th' unhappy youth
Still loved fair Anna with eternal truth:
From clime to clime an exile doom'd to roam,
His heart still panted for its secret home.

FROM THE SAME.

Evening described-Midnight—The ship weighing anchor and departing from the haven.

THE Sun's bright orb, declining all serene,
Now glanced obliquely o'er the woodland scene.
Creation smiles around; on every spray
The warbling birds exalt their evening lay.
Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train
Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain :
The golden lime and orange there were seen,
On fragrant branches of perpetual green.
The crystal streams, that velvet meadows lave,
To the green ocean roll with chiding wave.
The glassy ocean hush'd forgets to roar,
But trembling murmurs on the sandy shore :
And lo! his surface, lovely to behold!
Glows in the west, a sea of living gold!
While all above, a thousand liveries gay
The skies with pomp ineffable array.

Arabian sweets perfume the happy plains:
Above, beneath, around enchantment reigns!
While yet the shades, on time's eternal scale,
With long vibration deepen o'er the vale ;
While yet the songsters of the vocal grove
With dying numbers tune the soul to love;
With joyful eyes th' attentive master sees
Th' auspicious omens of an eastern breeze.—
Now radiant Vesper leads the starry train,
And night slow draws her veil o'er land and main;
Round the charged bowl the sailors form a ring;
By turns recount the wondrous tale or sing;
As love or battle, hardships of the main,
Or genial wine awake their homely strain :
Then some the watch of night alternate keep,
The rest lie buried in oblivious sleep.

Deep midnight now involves the livid skies,
While infant breezes from the shore arise.
The waning moon, behind a wat`ry shroud,
Pale-glimmer'd o'er the long-protracted cloud.
A mighty ring around her silver throne,
With parting meteors cross'd, portentous shone.
This in the troubled sky full oft prevails;
Oft deem'd a signal of tempestuous gales.—
While young Arion sleeps, before his sight
Tumultuous swim the visions of the night.
Now blooming Anna, with her happy swain,
Approach'd the sacred hymeneal fane:
Anon tremendous lightnings flash between ;
And funeral pomp and weeping loves are seen!
Now with Palemon up a rocky steep,
Whose summit trembles o'er the roaring deep,
With painful step he climb'd; while far above
Sweet Anna charm'd them with the voice of love.
Then sudden from the slippery height they fell,
While dreadful yawn'd beneath the jaws of hell-
Amid this fearful trance, a thundering sound
He hears and thrice the hollow decks rebound.
Upstarting from his couch on deck he sprung;
Thrice with shrill note the boatswain's whistle rung.
"All hands unmoor!" proclaims a boisterous cry:
"All hands unmoor!" the cavern rocks reply.
Roused from repose aloft the sailors swarm,
And with their levers soon the windlass arm.
The order given, up-springing with a bound
They lodge the bars, and wheel their engine round:
At every turn the clanging pauls resound.
Uptorn reluctant from its oozy cave,
The ponderous anchor rises o'er the wave.
Along their slippery masts the yards ascend,
And high in air the canvas wings extend:
Redoubling cords the lofty canvas guide,
And through inextricable mazes glide.
The lunar rays with long reflection gleam,
To light the vessel o'er the silver stream:
Along the glassy plain serene she glides,
While azure radiance trembles on her sides.
From east to north the transient breezes play;
And in the Egyptian quarter soon decay.
A calm ensues; they dread th' adjacent shore;
The boats with rowers arm'd are sent before :

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