XXIII. 



THE SEA-SHORE. 



BY the solitary sea-shore, near the dashing of waves, 

 that for thousands of ages have ebbed and flowed in a 

 never tiring alternation, I stand, and yield my mind to 

 those sombre thoughts suggested by the scenes about 

 me. The rocks that bound the coast, and form a bul 

 wark for the land against the raging of the tempest 

 and the surging of the billows, stand around in naked 

 desolation, sublime in their strength to resist the con 

 tending elements, and beautiful as they reflect the rays 

 of the sun that gilds them when he rises above the 

 green-headed waves. The promontories, that extend 

 into the sea, call dismally to mind, the many disasters 

 they have witnessed, while contending against the 

 assaults of the ocean, and the anger of the winds ; and 

 the echoes, that haunt their solitary rocks, seem to repeat 

 many a tale of sorrow and misfortune. 



The sea-gulls are sailing above my head, uttering 

 their trilling scream, and congregating restlessly in 

 flocks upon the distant shallows. Clad in their downy 

 plumage, they are alike impenetrable by summer's heat 

 or winter's cold. They are merry and busy alike at all 

 seasons and in all weather ; and are never weary of 



