VESUVIUS.* 



FAIR rose the sun o'er mountain, plain, and sea, 

 As youthful Time burst from Eternity, 

 Chasing with magic wand chaotic night, 

 And speaking darkness into living light. 

 'Twas nature's infant morn, and loveliness 

 Played on each feature, every look was bliss. 

 Nought spake of discord ; peace triumphant reigned ; 

 Her shining garments yet with blood unstained. 

 Nature rejoiced, the circling sun looked down, 

 And smiled upon a face all glorious as his own : 

 Far o'er the world his kindly rays were shed, 

 From morn's dim curtain to his ocean bed, 

 Soothing the rigours of the Arctic waste. 

 While softly beaming on the glassy breast 

 Of seas, bright sparkling round their sunny Isles, 

 Where summer ever reigns and ever smiles. 



Wide through his circuit, Sol no clime surveyed 

 So loved by Heaven in beauty so arrayed, 

 As thy broad fields, Hesperia, land divine ! 

 Pride of the world ! proud home of Priam's line ! 

 O'er thee full many an age of victory 

 Has shed its lustre, whilst thou yet wert free : 

 Yes ! farthest ocean wafted on its wave 

 The captive Kings of Earth, the suppliant brave, 

 To grace the triumph of Jove-nurtured Rome, 

 And tell the world her conquerors had come. 

 *Tis ours to sing no wars of mortal men, 

 The laurel'd brow, the shout that rung again : 

 We sing the war of elements, not waves, 

 Nor rushing winds, which in his vaulted caves 

 Old ^Eolus could hold, or bid them speed, 

 Swift as the current of the winged steed. 

 We sing the fires that subterraneous burn, 

 Unquenched by time, deep in the mighty urn ; 

 Which rising o'er the stilly midland sea, 

 Proclaims destruction 'mid life's ecstacy. 

 Ere yet with gods immortal men had striven 

 And blooming nature praised the gifts of Heaven, 

 Beauteous the shore around the crater lay, 

 Heedless that Jove had marked it as the prey 

 Of his bright thunderbolt, and doomed afar 

 The ruined earth to tell his power in war. 

 Yes ! ages long have rolled above these plains ; 

 But still their ancient barrenness remains. 

 The tide that lashed those sullen rocks of yore, 

 And told wild fables to the poet hoar, 

 Still laves Phlegraean fields, and whispers still 

 In Fancy's ear the boding tale of ill. 



* These verses, written by a talented youth in the Edinburgh Academy, we copy 

 with much pleasure from the Rector's Report of that excellent Institution. Our read- 

 ers will agree with us that this poem is to say the least one of very high promise. 



