cated state of being is represented under the guise of a young female, preserved from the wreck of a vessel:-this, like the rest of the conception, is sufficiently outré; but the portrait in question is one of exquisite beauty, of that species which the old dramatists and the modern Lake poets delight to describe,-simple, affectionate, guided purely by the impulse of her own heart, and unsuspicious of evil either in herself or in others. We shall omit what may be called the mythological introduction, and pass on to the description of the storm. It will be perceived that the author had peculiar notions of metre. "Metre," he says, "is the focus of union between the sense and the sound: it is a contrivance to throw the accent, not where a common speaker or reader would throw it, but where an impassioned orator or judicious actor would throw it;" and he proceeds to illustrate his meaning by an analysis of some lines of The Hurricane. We shall, however, leave the ear of the reader to decide as to the effect of this singular metrical system.

"The Eastern shore receives the welcome gale;
And leads to caverns, or the brow of rocks,
To gravel banks with glittering shell-fish strew'd,
To deep-green mangrove, or the shadowing branch
Of lofty cedar dropping blossoms white,
That tremble as they fall, and meet the wave
Progressive to their root. Here, oft, at even,
When lengthening shadows to the calmy wave
Shot dubious twilight and alluring gloom,
I sat contemplative; and viewed the breeze
Chequer the water with far-streaming light,
That glistened as with gems: I sat and thought
Ambition was a folly; glory, madness;
And all the hopes attending various man
Were robbers of his rest; I thought, that Love
Was all the sum indulgent Heaven e'er made

!

To constitute his bliss. I thought so and was blest.
For four long days a calm through nature reigned;

A calm as dead as ever struck the deep;

As ever mark'd the silent air with awe,

Or still'd the leaf high trembling on the bough;

The fifth at eve to my accustom'd haunt,

Along the shadow of a cocoa grove,

Down to the beach I stroll'd. The setting sun
Was dyed with crimson; and the full-orb'd moon,
That palely rose above the dusky arch,

Was deeply burr'd. Settl'd, encreasing, black,

the

The jagged clouds, voluminous and deep,
Scudded along the northern verge of ocean,
And a long labouring swell hove the large
Billow lifeless on the shore, while adverse clouds
In dark battalia swiftly met in air.

Just where the horizon bends to meet the wave,
Within the farthest reach of human ken,
A sail appeared. The mild ray far beaming
From the western sun glanced on her canvas,
And beheld it spread before the rising breeze.
The rising breeze far from the northward mov'd,
Ruffling along, and blacken'd as it came;
The affrighted plover from its blast retir'd;
The lizard nestled in the watchman's hut,
And heavy, awful, gloom pour'd deep'ning on.
Soon reigning darkness o'er creation drew
The deep-black curtain of involving night:
The tempest thicken'd; and the dark wind howl'd
Encreasing horrors and sublimer blasts
Heavy the deep-hung atmosphere along.
Retired as soon as straws around me felt
The wind, I, hence, enjoy'd in silent peace
The rending gale; but, ever and anon,

Some crash of trees or noise of swift destruction

Met my ear. Soon the expected signals of
Distress roll through the heavy storm; the wind
Almost suppress'd the deep-mouth'd sound it bore.

Reiterate at rapid intervals,

The guns were heard, and oft-times join'd the thunder.

The firing ceas'd. The aggravated storm rode

Wide and unrivall'd through the midnight air;

All else was silence."

Thus ends the first canto; the second introduces us to young Elmira.

""Twas where the sound of guns had mark'd a wreck,
My own selected path I took, in search

Of objects breathing from the eastern storm.
Wild and tremendous was the nightly sky:
The clouds involv'd in vast confusion, deep
And ripening still for action, ascended
Swiftly from the south and west. Exhausted
To the east they thinn'd, and nearly oped there
The lowering sky; where, dimly seen, one star

Glimmer'd on night's dull brow, and then was hid.
Pale twilight from the shrouded moon discovered
Shatter'd Nature; and, as we near'd the dreadful
Sounding ocean, large torches held aloft
Gleam'd fearful on the loud tempestuous waste.
Ocean, why in darkness hid, sounds so deep
Your midnight roar? Clouds, enclosing warring
Winds, why so solemn flit ye o'er? Tell me
All your mighty ravage! Hear I not some
Female shriek, now faintly sighing on the
Wings of night? Straightly appear'd a gleam of
White before us. Advancing quickly forward,
We saw, on near approach, the tatter'd sail
Of a ship driven by billows over shelves
Of rocks, high up the creek, and lodg'd on shore.
Around, no form of life was seen. 'Twas ravage.
No hand remained. The tempest was her pilot,

And the mighty arm, that wing'd the ruin.
Hung o'er the side, female attire we found
In shreds; its owner sought in vain, was lost.
Within with speed through every hold we search,
And cabin. The first were empty. The last
Repaid my zeal; for here I found, softly
Reclining on a leeward couch, a form

Divine. Wak'd by the noise and lights, her eyes,
As on I came, return'd the beams of mine.
With hurried speed she said-

But our own. Come quick, thou mildly-beaming Angel-form, with me-The moments stay notAnd I'll lead thee into peace and safety.

Elmira.

Where is my mother gone? And are we yet

In England?

I.

No: with truest friends you are.

I plac'd her in an idle hammaque near,
Which, held by negroes, bore her gently on.
And as we went, I aim'd, with tenderest talk
To cheer the droopy maid; who, not reluctant
Seemed to solace: for to sea unused, young
And innocent, she knew not the dangers

She had passed; but hearing English spoke, and
Dreaming nought of strangers, having sunk to sleep
Among accustomed friends, supposed herself
Still known. Simply eloquent, she told me,

How they disturbed her with their noise on board;
How, being still at length, she hugg'd her couch,
Rock'd by the winds and seas to dead repose,
Till thence awoke by me. So infant spirits,
Who wing their animating flight of death
In pleasing slumbers from their mother's arms,
Alight unknowing on celestial ground:

Then press with firmy step the flowery path,
Nor dream of serpents they have never known;
Embrace with smiles their first angelic friend,
And ope the little treasure of their hearts:
Thus sweet Elmira told her gentle tale,

And lit each generous ardour in my. breast."

She is taken to the stranger's home, and looks round her with surprise.

Elmira.

"Where is my mother's room?

Or where is she? I want to sleep again
For you removed me when but half awake.
What is this country?

. I.

A country 'tis, where

Daughters and mothers seldom live together.

Why not?

Elmira.

I.

They cannot. Young with young, and old
With old together dwell, where you are now.
Your mother, fully welcom'd, just is gone
Where you can never follow. The distance
Is but small; yet bad the road, and water
Lies between you. She begs you here to rest,

Till, with a few days' use, you like the place.
You will command whatever you may see,
And all this house is your's. All varied pleasure
Shall attend the varied day. The morning
Breeze luxuriant shall be your's, in this saloon,
Or in the Orange and Acacia shade;

Where flower or fruit alike regale your taste.
For you shall noon pour tranquil splendour wide,
Not unair'd, nor void of rich aroma;

For shrubs that love to drink his ray and live,
Will skreen it from Elmira. The purple
Sorrel-nectar high, or milk of cocoa nut
You then shall drain; and in its sportive shade
Hearken the breeze race on its rising stem.
Evening shall bear us to the thicket shade;
Or else, at large, we'll catch the rambling air;
And when we see the peaceful breast of ocean
Just rippl'd over with the wild'ring breeze,
We'll then descend the beach; and, pleas'd, inhale
The freshest breath of genial air that blows;
Or snuff the showers collecting in the east
To cool the atmosphere and green the earth.
Elmira.

But, will my mother never come? I long
To tell her of those pleasant things.

Better

I.

Enjoy them first, and know them true yourself.
Then, sweet companions of your sex and age

Will join your walk, and mix their joys with your's;
With equal transport catch the lively glow

From nature's face, and beam it in their eyes;
While with extatic smiles you hail the scene,
And eager tell what various pleasures swell.