320 



wicked Italian, in allusion to a very different sub- 

 ject,— 



" Piango perche di cio tardi un'accorsi 



A cui dovea piu di buon ora attendere;" 



and I hope you will endeavour to make up for your 

 lost time by producing other pieces of equal merit.* 



* The editor is here tempted to give the entire song which 

 was thus mentioned by a partial friend. 



SONG. 



The morning o'er the ocean breaks, 



The orient waves are liquid fire, 

 While William from the topmast seeks 



All that his fondest hopes desire. 



Yon speck in night's retiring veil 

 None but a lover's eyes could spy — 



" 'Tis land ! 'tis England ! messmates, hail ! " 

 " 'Tis land !" the joyful crew reply. 



" Oh Mary ! is thy tender breast 



Still to thy William fond and true, 

 As when we first our love confest ? 



As when with tears we bade adieu? " 



Propitious gales and swelling waves 



To William faint and tardy seem — 

 But now the lab'ring ocean heaves, 



And thunders roll and lightnings gleam. 



And now the shatter'd bark no more 

 Resists the sweeping whirlwind's sway; 



It shivers on its native shore, 



And death and horror close the daj T . 



But love survives the wasting storm ; 



O'er William harmless thunders roll ; 

 His Mary clasps his clay-cold form, 



Her breath recalls his fleeting soul. 



