THE WRECK. 



Composed on the loss of the Steam Packet " Pegasus.'^ 



What pow'r is that which rules the deep. 

 Whose breath heaves on its tranquil sleep 

 And sinks a mine, whose in-drawn sigh. 

 In mountains lifts it to the sky; 

 What pow'r is that— look on the earth. 

 See to what wonders it gives birth ; 

 Mark where the yawning earthquake shakes. 

 Or mountains vomit fiery flakes ; 

 One Sov'reign pow r— One Author great- 

 Performs his own appointing fate : 

 Waters and land one voice obey — 

 God is that one ! He has the sway. 



Go where the tides wash Scotia's strand. 



For o'er it waves grief's sombre wand : 



The mourning's sign and sorrow's sigh. 



Speak of a tale of ocean's dye. 



Oft from that land had sped a bark. 



To shores where H umber leaves his mark ; 



Safely thro' waters had she dash'd 



Which hundred times her prow had washed : 



But late she left, gallant as e'er. 



Not as before her course to steer. 



For foul destruction helm'd her way. 



And sank her in the whelming spray. 



Bless'd is the veil which from the sight 

 The future shadows in its night. 

 Else had "Adieu" less lightly fell. 

 Friends had less lightly bid " farewell ;" 

 From many a hand the signal flew. 

 When words had told Adieu ! Adieu ! 



