METHODIST POET . 595 



But thou, my country, know, that at this hour 



He is no patriot who prays not for thee ; 

 Thy heart of wisdom, and thy hand of power, 



If heaven-inspired, shall keep thee nobly free ; 

 Then, England, be it theirs, who seek thy weal, 

 On all thine acts to stamp Religion's seal. , 



" Oh, bless my country, Heav'n ! and be the shield 

 Of God's pure word, the safeguard, day by day, 



Of him who through all seasons tills the field ; 

 Of him who dares all storms on ocean's way ; 



Of him who beats the anvil, plies the loom, 



Or wastes in studious toil health's precious bloom." 



Time, thou sweep'st hence, with stern, unsparing hand, 



The hoary monuments of ages past ; 

 Yet many a ruin on these banks doth stand, 



Hallow'd by genius, piety, or taste ; 

 Heir-looms of history, way-marks left for man, 

 To shew where long-past generations ran. 



But greener grows the water here and there 



The long-wing'd sea-bird o'er the river soars ; 

 There is a springy freshness in the air, 



Such as oft fans with health propitious shores. 

 On glides the bark and lo ! on either hand, 

 The suburbs, north and south, of Shields expand. 



There crowd the craft the harbour's space along, 

 Their streamers flying, and their sails display'd ; 



While on each quay behold the motley throng, 

 The busy sons of industry and trade ; 



Merchants and seamen links of that strong chain 



Which binds to British commerce land and main. 



For hither come the ships from east and west, 



From southern regions and the rigorous north ; 

 And hence, with England's holiest wishes blest; 



To every quarter of the globe go forth. 



, 

 Thus grew those famous cities, ocean-born, 



O'er whose fall'n grandeur ruins ploughshare goes ; 

 Rhodes, Genoa, Tyre and so, though now forlorn, 



Queen of the Adriatic ! Venice rose : 

 And so those countless, nameless towns, by time, 

 Like broken sea-shells, strewn through every clime. 



But what is yon magnificent expanse ? 



The sea! the sea! the everlasting sea! 

 'Tis the creation, by one moment's glance, 



Of a new world, in thought and memory ; 

 For ne'er before did mine astonish'd eye 

 Behold thee, Ocean ! now beheld so nigh. 



I see, I feel thine amplitude sublime, 



Thy boundless undulations seem to me 

 Great Nature's pulses, beating through all time, 



Even from the heart of dread eternity. 



How smooth the water ! and how like the sky 



In the dim distance ! while yon vessels seem 

 Like specks, now clear, now fading on the eye - 



Or liketh' illusions of a quiet dream. 

 2R2 



