THE BEACON.

THE scene was more beautiful far to my eye
Than if day in its pride had arrayed it;
The land-breeze blew mild, and the azure arched sky
Looked pure as the Spirit had made it :
The murmur rose soft, as I silently gazed

On the shadowy waves' playful motion,

From the dim distant isle, where the beacon-fire blazed

Like a star in the midst of the ocean.

No longer the joy of the sailor-boy's breast

Was heard in his wildly-breathed numbers: The sea-bird had flown to her wave-girdled nest, The fisherman sunk in his slumbers.

One moment I looked from the hill's gentle slope,
(All hushed was the billow's commotion,)
And thought that the beacon looked lovely as Hope,
That star of life's tremulous ocean.

The time is long past, and the scene is afar,
Yet, when my head rests on its pillow,
Will memory sometimes rekindle the star

That blazed on the breast of the billow.
In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies,
And death stills the heart's last emotion,
Oh then may the bright beams of mercy arise
Like a star on eternity's ocean!

ANONYMOUS.

THE BELL AT SEA.

121

THE BELL AT SEA.

The dangerous islet called the Bell-rock, on the coast of Forfarshire, used formerly to be marked only by a bell, which was so placed as to be swung by the motion of the waves, when the tide rose above the rock. A Lighthouse has since been erected there.

WHEN the tide's billowy swell
Had reached its height,
Then tolled the rock's lone bell,
Sternly by night.

Far over cliff and surge,

Swept the deep sound,

Making each wild wind's dirge
Still more profound.

Yet that funereal tone

The sailor blessed,

Steering through darkness on

With fearless breast.

E'en so may we, that float
On life's wide sea,

Welcome each warning note,

Stern though it be!

MRS HEMANS.

DIFFERENT ASPECTS OF THE BELL-ROCK

LIGHTHOUSE.

"Holding forth the word of life."-(PHIL. ii. 16.)

I GAZED on thee when murky cloud
Cast gloom o'er land and sea,
And thou appearedst in sable shroud,
A mourner on our lee:

But still aloft in calm or strife,
Thou heldst the sailor's lamp of life.

I gazed on thee when cheering light
Illumined thy form again,

And thou didst rise like blessed sprite,
Upon the glassy plain:

But still aloft in calm or strife,
Alike thou heldst the lamp of life.

And thus, in Time's inconstant day,
The Pilgrim to the skies
Now bright reflects the Spirit's ray,
Now, darkling, droops and sighs:
But still like thee, in calm or strife,
He holds aloft the lamp of life.

J. LONGMUIL

THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

123

THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The ship was still as she could be;
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock
The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The pious Abbot of Aberbrothock

Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung.

When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell
The mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothock.

The sun in heaven was shining gay,

All things were joyful on that day;
The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round,
And there was joyance in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of Spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,

But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape Float;
Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,

And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothock."

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;

Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,

And he cut the Bell from the Inchcape Float.

Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound,

The bubbles rose and burst around;

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothock."

Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away,
He scoured the seas for many a day;

And now grown rich with plundered store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.