17 



Then, if there be one heart so kind, 



It mourns each hour the loss of me ; 

 Shrinks, when it hears some gust of wind, 



And sighs — " Perhaps a storm at sea ! " 



Oh ! if there be an heart indeed, 



Which beats for me, so sad, so true, 

 Swift to its aid, Oblivion, speed, 



And bathe it with thy poppy's dew ; 



My form in vapours to conceal, 



From Pleasure's wreath rich odours shake ; 



Nor let that heart one moment feel 

 Such pangs as force my own to ache. 



Demon of Memory, cherish'd grief ! 



Oh, could I break thy wand in twain ! 

 Oh, could I close thy magic leaf, 



Till those I love are mine again ! 



December 1. (Friday.) 



The captain to-day pointed out to me a sailor- 

 boy, who, about three years ago, was shaken from 

 the mast-head, and fell through the scuttle into the 

 hold : the distance was above eighty feet, yet the 

 boy was taken up with only a few bruises. 



December 3. (Sunday.) 

 The wind during the last two days has been more 

 favourable ; and at nine this morning we were in 

 the latitude of Madeira. 



December 5. 



Sea Terms, — Ratlines, the rope ladders by which 

 the sailors climb the shrouds j the companion, the 



c 



