96 THE WRECK, 



And now tlie land where home has been, 

 Where lingering friends were lately seen. 

 The land which bright eyes lately blest, 

 ^Vhere gather 'd kindred sleep at rest. 

 Fades — then denies a single trace. 

 Lost in the hovering mist of space. 



From oft-told tales of some past day 



Hearing, to drive the time away ; 



Or from being wrapt in silent thought, 



Where, fairy-like, past pleasm-es float ; 



Or from being lock'd in slumber's chain 



(Waking, alas I to sleep again !) 



All start, surmise, and from below 



Rush to the deck the worst to know. 



How changed each look, in one short stroke 



Of time's infonner, stern death broke 



In all his terror on the soul. 



Which just before owned no controul. 



Crying, while on the fear-bent knee, 



" Oh God, be mercilul to me !" 



But not to all was death so dread ; 



Fear saw the cause, and scowling fled. 



For there religion breath'd her balm. 



And lull'd each rising to a calm. 



Yes ! whilst this and the future state 



Stay'd to unite, the will of fate. 



That heavenly form hung o'er the spot. 



Bearing o'er doubts the christian's lot ! 



First, where her babes a mother press 'd. 

 She flew, and wrote their names as bless'd. 

 And when consol'd for them, on high 

 Pointed to heav'nly blessings nigh ; 

 With buoyant hope inspired her mind. 

 And bade in faith to be resign'd : 

 And then where one — whose lips had mov'd 

 On land, to praise the God he lov'd 



