Hominem pagina nostra sapit....MARTIAL.
A DESCRIPTIVE EPISTLE FROM
DEEP in the bosom of Atlantic waves,
Whose snowy foam a rocky Island laves,
Far from my friends on western Scotia's shore,
But further from the land my thoughts deplore:
I sit me down to muse an hour or two,
Ease my full heart, and fill a page for you.
What time the moon a slender crescent wears,
Dim in the west, and quickly disappears;
We seek the bark, unfurl each lofty sail,
To the full impulse of a northern gale :
And left the land where polar tempests blow,
Bind the wild waves, and spread a waste of snow;
Where woods extend immeasurably wide,
And gloomy fogs the summer sun-shine hide.
Where rais'd sublime on her unpolish'd throne,
Wild nature reigns unrivald and alone:
Rocks, cataracts, rivers, forests, own her sway,
And caverns exild from the light of day.
But when night's orb her spacious horn had fillid
One globe of light, one pure refulgent shield;
We saw Bermuda's rocky circled shore,
Foam o'er the deep, and heard her breakers roar!
Where gallant Sommers, tost by many a blast !
Found an asylum from the waves at last !
Here rocks into a thousand shapes are wrought,
The yawning cavern, and the dripping grot,
And dismal ledges lurk beneath the wave,
The ship's destruction, and the seaman's graye.
For long before the steersman sees the shore,
Or hears appal'd the inner breakers roar,
His gallant vessel with an awful crash,
On the dire reefs with thund'ring noise may dash;
While the stun'd seaman, ʼmidst a sea of foam,
Rolls his wild eyes and sadly thinks of home;
But wife or home his eyes shall never view,
The next fierce surge o'erwhelms the hapless crew;
And spreads the wreck in shivers on the wave;
No eye to pity, and no arm to save.
Yet though the seas a thousand rocks infold,
Not half so fatal Scylla fam'd of old!
Though needy Spaniards mourn'd its loss of mines,
Where diamonds blaze, and snowy silver shines;
Tho' bleak and wild the chill north-wester roars,
And rolls the white wave on the rocky shores,
That stand a barrier 'midst the surging swell,
So stands a saint amidst the rage of hell !
So stands that word of truth on which I rest!
When hell pours all her whirlwinds round my
breast !
Yet on the land a different view is seen,
Groves ever gay, and vallies ever green,
Here Waller made the list
ning rocks admire,
The sylvan sweetness of his charming lyre.
And here his ditties love-sick Little sigh’d,
Where the dark mangroves kiss the flowing tide.
But not with these do I attempt a flight,
Too high the lofty, and too low the light;
And yet I may one short epistle send,
I
Nor fear a critic whom I love, a friend.
Here Spring in robes of living verdure deigns-
To crown the cedar hills, and sunny plains,
"Here sea-born gales their gelid winds expand; "To winnow fragrance o'er the happy land." When on some little eminence I rise,
O what a sight to feast poetic eyes!
Three hundred Isles adorn'd with cedar trees,
That give their balmy sweetness to the breeze:
While here and there the snowy mansions rise,
Like bowers of bliss in groves of paradise!
Had ancient poets known this little spot,
These em'rald Isles, that ocean's bosom dot,
Thessalian Tempe, and Ausonian bowers,
Tho' rich in pastures, and profuse in flowers,
Had not appear'd more beautiful and fair,
Than these gay rocks and sea-beat islets are!
Thro' half the year a rich nutritious store,
The blooming trees and cultur'd gardens pour;
Here purple grapes in swelling clusters grow,
There milk-white arrow-root abounds below:
See rich in juice the musky melon lies,
Aloof the bread-fruit, green cassadas rise:
The savoury onion, and the yellow squash,
The pumpkin green, and bowl-form'd calabash.
In the green woods how beauteous to behold,
The yellow orange pour his flaming gold;
Enormous lemons swell the curving bough,
And juicy limes unask'd spontaneous grow;
As nature's commoners, each thirst, to cheer,
And cool the fervours of the genial year.
Nor should my landscape-loving muse forget,
The luscious fig, and seedy pomegranate;
The guava sweet, and tart the tamarine,
The mulberry red, the pappa deeply green;
With that whose every branching leaf displays,
A parasol to break the solar rays;
Delicious fruit, which some banana call,
Whose pulpy sweetness flavours rich to all.
Nor should the azure ocean be forgot,
That adds new beauties to this little spot,
Clear thro' the verdant isles, it sweetly roves!
Clasps their green charms, and laves their coral groves!
-And like a mirror of the finest glass,
Improves the scene, and brightens every grace!
A thousand shining shells the deeps adorn,
With lustres brilliant as a vernal morn:
Thro' the clear wave along the rocks are seen,
The pearly oyster, and the plant marine:
On the white sand the murex forms his mail,
The little nautilus expands his sail,
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