Original Poetry.

Evening Star, Volume VII, Issue 1987, 17 September 1869, Page 2

Original Poetry.

ON LEAVING ENGLAND. l. The bark unfurls her snowy sails, And o’er the deep blue sea she glides; Borne swiftly by the flowing gale, How proudly o’er the waves she rides ! With her I go from friends and home, Far, far in foreign lands to roam, ir. The sun has sunk into the western sea; And golden clouds close round his dying flight, "While in the east approaches solemnly The dark and sable chariots of the night, And Phoebus, dying, sheds a ray of light, Like meteor’s flash, around my native shore ; I see her mountains smile serene and bright, Then vanish like a summer dream far o’er The dense blue waters, to be seen by me no more. m. Away, away, through the dashing spray 1 But sea and sky we hail! O’er the white crest of the ocean’s breast Under a crowded sail, Our good ship proudly flies before the swelling gale. iv. Over the waves, and the watery caves She speeds with giant strides, And the billows that seek their vengeance to wreak, Start back from her sturdy sides, And form a path of snow, o’er which she swiftly glides. v. Nor the Arab steed, with its quick’ning speed, As it bounds o’er the desert plain, Nor the startled deer, when the hunter is near, And the hounds on its footsteps gain, Can spurn the earth so fast, as our ship cleaves through the main. VI. Over the track of the sea we look back; Away o’er the billows white ! And gaze awhile tow’rds our native isle, Now lost to our straining sight Beneath the dark’ning shades of fast approach* ing night, VII. Bright isle, when I stray in lands far away, For ever thou shalt be The home of my soul, though between us roll The waves of the deep blue sea. And oft in slumber deep I will revisit thee. VIII, For when in my dreams the byegone gleams, And breaks on my raptured sight, ITI mingle again in the merry train Of Youth’s companions bright; And taste once more the joys of every past delight. J.K. Dunedin, 1869.

truth and save his life; but he replied with the utmost simplicity and sincerity by asking the mate if he might pray. The mate said nothing, but nodded his head and turned as pale as a ghost, and shook with trembling like a reed with the wind. And there, all eyes turned on him, the brave and noble little fellow, this poor waif whom society owned not, and whose own stepfather could not care for him—there he knelt with clasped hands and eyes upturned to heaven, while he repeated audibly the Lord’s Prayer, and prayed the dear Lord Jesus to take him to heaven. Our informant adds that there then occurred a scene as of Pentecost. Sobs broke from strong hard hearts as the mate sprang forward to the boy and clasped him to his bosom, and kissed him and blessed him, and told him how sincerely he now believed his story, and how glad he was that he had been brave enough to face death and be willing to sacrifice his life for the truth of his word.