LINES ON THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE. 21 



in the boat whilst landing, and his annoyance at the inn. Seemed to 

 have hurried down the few remaining sands of his g^ass ; and he felt 

 himself that time was drawing to a close with him. " *" 



He was perfectly collected, and, as fully as he could, was giving 

 his last directions to his friend, who had so generously attended 

 him ; he spoke much of his family, and gave particular messages to 



each, pointing out to R the various little trinkets he wished to 



send them as dying memorials of himself; a ring, which he still 

 wore on his finger, and which bore the inscription " To the memory 

 of my dear mother," he desired might be buried with him, together 

 with a locket which was suspended from his neck, and contained a 

 lock of raven hair: he did not mention whose. 



But words could not paint the expression of his countenance,' 

 nor the sad sublimity of his voice, when, for the last time, he feebly 

 grasped the hand of his affectionate friend, thanked him for all his 

 former kindness, and bade him his last mortal farwell; he shortly 

 after sank into an apparently painless lethargy, from which he never 

 aroused himself. 



It was evening before he died ; there was not a breath of wind 

 to wave the branches of the peach trees around his window, through 

 which the sun-beams were streaming on his death-bed, tinged with 

 the golden dyes of sunset. It was in a remote corner of Smyrna, 

 and no sound disturbed the silent progress of death ; the sun went 

 down at length behind the hills ; the clear, calm voice of the Muez- 

 zin from his tower, came from the distant city, and again all was re- 

 pose. We approached the bed of W , but his soul had bade 



adieu to mortality ; he had expired but a moment before, without a 

 sigh and without a struggle. 



Emerson. 



— ^ ♦ » 



LINES ON THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE. 



Jactis in altum molibus. 



HOR. 



I stand the sea shock on a lonely rock 



Where no one is nigh to save. 

 My forehead lies mid the rack of the skies, 



My foot is wet in the wave. 



In long long time thro' the parted brine 

 When Israel took his way. 



