And in my tongue the thirst became A something fierier far than flame.

XII. “ We ncar'd the wild wood - 't was so wide, I saw no bounds on either side ; 'T was studded with old sturdy trees, That bent not to the roughest breeze Which howls down from Siberia's waste, And strips the forest in its haste, But these were few, and far between Set thick with shrubs more young and green, Luxuriant with their annual leaves, Ere strown by those autumnal eves That nip the forest's foliage dead, Discolour'd with a lifeless red, Which stands thereon like stiffen'd gore Upon the slain when battle 's o'er, And some long winter's night hath shed Its frost o'er every tombless head, So cold and stark the raven's beak May peck unpierced each frozen cheek: 'T was a wild waste of underwood, And here and there a chestnut stood, The strong oak, and the hardy pine ;

But far apart -- and well it were, Or else a different lot were mine

The boughs gave way, and did not tear My limbs; and I found strength to bear My wounds, already scarr'd with cold My bonds forbade to loose my hold. We rustled through the leaves like wind, Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves behind; By night I heard them on the track, Their troop came hard upon our back, With their long gallop, which can tire The hound's deep hate, and hunter's fire : Where'er we few they follow'd on, Nor left us with the morning sun; Behind I saw them, scarce a rood, At day-break winding through the wood, And through the night had heard their feet Their stealing, rustling step repeat. Oh! how I wish'd for spear or sword, At least to die amidst the horde, And perish — if it must be soAt bay, destroying many a foe. When first my courser's race begun, I wish'd the goal already won; But now I doubted strength and speed. Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed Had nerved him like the mountain-roe ; Nor faster falls the blinding snow Which whelms the peasant near the door Whose threshold he shall cross no more, Bewilder'd with the dazzling blast, Than through the forest-paths he past Untired, untamed, and worse than wild ; All furious as a favour'd child Balk'd of its wish; or fiercer still A woman piqued — who has her will.

XIII. “ The wood was past; 't was more than noon, But chill the air, although in June;

I [The reviewer already quoted says, “ As the Hetman proceeds, it strikes us there is a much closer resemblance to the fiery dow of Walter Scott's chivalrous narrative, than in

Rose crimson, and deposed the stars,
And call'd the radiance from their cars,'
And fuld the earth, from his deep throne,
With lonely lustre, all his own.

And we are half-way, struggling o'er
To yon unknown and silent shore.
The waters broke my hollow trance,
And with a temporary strength

My stiffen'd limbs were rebaptized.
My courser's broad breast proudly braves,
And dashes off the ascending waves,
And onward we advance !
We reach the slippery sbore at length,

A haven I but little prized,
For all behind was dark and drear
And all before was night and fear.
How many hours of night or day
In those suspended pangs I lay,
I could not tell; I scarcely knew
If this were human breath I drew.

XV. * With glossy skin, and dripping inane,

And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain

Up the repelling bank. We gain the top: a boundless plain Spreads through the shadow of the night,

And onward, onward, onward, seems,

Like precipices in our dreams,
To stretch beyond the sight;
And here and there a speck of white,

Or scatter'd spot of dusky green,
In masses broke into the light,
As rose the moon upon my right.

But nought distinctly seen
In the dim waste would indicate
The omen of a cottage gate;
No twinkling taper from afar
Stood like a hospitable star ;
Not even an ignis-fatuus rose
To make him merry with my woes :

That very cheat had cheer'd me then! Although detected, welcome still, Reminding me, through every ill,

Of the abodes of men.

XVII.
“ Up rose the sun; the mists were curl'd
Back from the solitary world
Which lay around -behind- before ;
What booted it to traverse o'er
Plain, forest, river ? Man nor brute,
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot,
Lay in the wild luxuriant soil ;
No sign of travel - none of toil ;
The very air was mute;
And not an insect's shrill small horn,
Nor matin bird's new voice was borne
From herb nor thicket. Many a werst,
Panting as if his heart would burst,
The weary brute still stagger'd on;
And still we were — or seem'd-alone :
At length, while reeling on our way,
Methought I heard a courser neigh,
From out yon tuft of blackening firs.
Is it the wind those branches stirs ?
No, no! from out the forest prance

A trampling troop; I see them come!
In one vast squadron they advance !

I strove to cry --my lips were dumb.
The steeds rush on in plunging pride ;
But where are they the reins to guide ?
A thousand horse — and none to ride !
With flowing tail, and flying mane,
Wide nostrils — never stretch'd by pain,
Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein,
And feet that iron never shod,
And flanks unscarr'd by spur or rod,
A thousand horse, the wild, the free,
Like waves that follow u'er the sea,

Came thickly thundering on,
As if our faint approach to meet;
The sight re-nerved my courser's feet,
A moment staggering, feebly fleet,
A moment, with a faint low neigh,

He answer'd, and then fell;
With gasps and glazing eyes he lay,
And reeking limbs immoveable,

His first and last career is done!
On came the troop- they saw him stoop,

They saw me strangely bound along

His back with many a bloody thong :
They stop — they start — they snuff the air,
Gallop a moment here and there,
Approach, retire, wheel round and round,
Then plunging back with sudden bound,
Headed by one black mighty steed,
Who seem'd the patriarch of bis breed,

Without a single speck or hair
Of white upon his shaggy hide ;
They snort - they foam - neigh - Swerve aside,
And backward to the forest fly,
By instinct, from a human eye.

They left me there to my despair, Link'd to the dead and stiffening wretch, Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch,

XVI. * Onward we went - but slack and slow;

His savage force at length o'erspent,
The drooping courser, faint and low,

All feebly foaming went.
A sickly infant had bad power
To guide him forward in that hour;

But useless all to me.
His new-born tameness nought avail'd-
My limbs were bound; my force had fail'd,

Perchance, had they been free.
With feeble effort still I tried
To rend the bonds so starkly tied —

But still it was in vain;
My limbs were only wrung the more,
And soon the idle strife gave o'er,

Which but prolong'd their pain:
The dizzy race seem'd almost done,
Although no goal was nearly won:
Some streaks announced the coming sun

How slow, alas ! he came !
Methought that mist of dawning gray
Would never dapple into day;
How heavily it roll'd away —

Before the eastern flame

[“ Rose crimson, and forbad the stars

To sparkle in their radiant cars." - MS.]

Relieved from that unwonted weight,
From whence I could not extricate
Nor bim nor me — and there we lay

The dying on the dead !
I little deem'd another day

Would see my houseless, helpless head.

I saw his wing through twilight fit,
And once so near me he alit

I could have smote, but lack'd the strength;
But the slight motion of my hand,
And feeble scratching of the sand,
The exerted throat's faint struggling noise,
Which scarcely could be call'd a voice,

Together scared him off at length. I know no more — my latest dream

Is something of a lovely star

Which fix'd my dull eyes from afar,
And went and came with wandering beam,
And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense
Sensation of recurring sense,

And then subsiding back to death,

And then again a little breath,
A little thrill, a short suspense,

An icy sickness curdling o'er
My heart, and sparks that cross'd my brain
A gasp, a throb, a start of pain,

A sigh, and nothing more.

“ And there from morn till twilight bound,
I felt the heavy hours toil round,
With just enough of life to see
My last of suns go down on me,
In hopeless certainty of mind,
That makes us fcel at length resign'd
To that which our foreboding years
Presents the worst and last of fears
Inevitable even a boon,
Nor more unkind for coming soon;
Yet shunn'd and dreaded with such care,
As If it only were a snare

That prudence might escape :
At times both wish'd for and implored,
At times sought with self-pointed sword,
Yet still a dark and hideous close
To even intolerable woes,

And welcome in no shape.
And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure,
They who have reveli'd beyond measure
In beauty, wassail, wine, and treasure,
Die calm, or calmer, oft than be
Whose heritage was misery :
For he who hath in turn run through
All that was beautiful and new,

Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave ;
And, save the future, (which is viewd
Not quite as men are base or good,
But as their nerves may be endued,)

With nought perhaps to grieve :: The wretch still hopes his woes must end, And Death, whom he should deem his friend, Appears, to his distemper'd eyes, Arrived to rob him of his prize, The tree of his new Paradise. To-morrow would have given him all, Repaid his pangs, repair'd his fall ; To-morrow would have been the first Of days no more deplored or curst, But bright, and long, and beckoning years, Seen dazzling through the mist of tears, Guerdon of many a painful hour; To-morrow would have given him power To rule, to shine, to smite, to save – And must it dawn upon his grave ?

XIX.
“ I woke - Where was I? — Do I see
A human face look down on me ?
And doth a roof above me close ?
Do these limbs on a couch repose ?
Is this a chamber where I lie ?
And is it mortal yon bright eye,
That watches me with gentle glance ?

I closed my own again once more,
As doubtful that the former trance

Could not as yet be o'er.
A slender girl, long-hair'd, and tall,
Sate watching by the cottage wall;
The sparkle of her eye I caught,
Even with my first return of thought ;
For ever and anon she threw

A prying, pitying glance on me

With her black eyes so wild and free:
I gazed, and gazed, until I knew

No vision it could be,-
But that I lived, and was released
From adding to the vulture's feast :
And when the Cossack maid bebeld
My heavy eyes at length unseald,
She smiled — and I essay'd to speas,

But fail'd- and she approach'd, and made

With lip and finger signs that said,
I must not strive as yet to break
The silence, till my strength should be
Enough to leave my accents free;
And then her hand on mine she laid,
And smooth'd the pillow for my head,
And stole along on tiptoe tread,

And gently oped the door, and spake
In whispers — ne'er was voice so sweet !
Even music follow'd her light feet;

But those she call'd were not awake, And she went forth ; but, ere she pass'd, Another look on me she cast,

Another sign she made, to say,
That I had nought to fear, that all
Were near, at my command or call,

And she would not delay
Her due return : - while she was gone,
Methought I felt too much alone.

XVIII. “ The sun was sinking still I lay

Chain'd to the chill and stiffening steed, I thought to mingle there our clay ;

And my dim eyes of death hath necd,

No hope arose of being freed : I cast my last looks up the sky,

And there between me and the sun I saw the expecting raven fly, Who scarce would wait till both should dic,

Ere his repast begun; He flew, and perch'd, then flew once more, And each time nearer than before ;

For ne'er can man his conscience all assuage, Unless he drain the wine of passion - rage.

His dreams were of Old England's welcome shore,
Or toils rewarded, and of dangers o'er;
His name was added to the glorious roll
Of those who search the storm-surrounded Pole.
The worst was over, and the rest seem'd sure,'
And why should not his slumber be secure ?
Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet,
And wilder hands would hold the vessel's sheet;
Young hearts, which languish'd for some sunny isle,
Where summer years and summer women smile ;
Men without country, who, too long estranged,
Had found no native home, or found it changed,
And, half uncivilised, preferr'd the care
Of some soft savage to the uncertain wave-
The gushing fruits that nature gave untill'd;
The wood without a path but where they willid;
The field o'er which promiscuous Plenty pour'd
Her horn; the equal land without a lord;
The wish — which ages have not yet subdued
In man — to have no master save his mood; ?
The earth, whose mine was on its face, unsold,
The glowing sun and produce all its gold;
The freedom which can call each grot a home ;
The general garden, where all steps may roam,
Where Nature owns a nation as her child,
Exulting in the enjoyment of the wild ;
Their shells, their fruits, the only wealth they know,
Their unexploring navy, the canoe ;
Their sport, the dashing breakers and the chase ;
Their strangest sight, an European face: -
Such was the country which these strangers yearn'd
To see again ; a sight they dearly earn'd.

IV. In vain, not silenced by the eye of death, Thou call'st the loyal with the menaced breath:They come not; they are few, and, overawed, Must acquiesce, while sterner hearts applaud. In vain thou dost demand the cause: a curse Is all the answer, with the threat of worse. Full in thine eyes is waved the glittering blade, Close to thy throat the pointed bayonet laid. The levell’d muskets circle round thy breast In hands as steel'd to do the deadly rest. Thou darest them to their worst, exclaiming - Fire !" But they who pitied not could yet admire ; Some lurking remnant of their former awe Restraind them longer than their broken law; They would not dip their souls at once in blood, But left thee to the inercies of the food. S

V. “ Hoist out the hoat !" was now the leader's cry; And who dare answer “ No !” to Mutiny, In the first dawning of the drunken hour, The Saturnalia of unhoped-for power ? The boat is lower'd with all the haste of hate, With its slight plank between thee and thy fate; Her only cargo such a scant supply As promises the death their hands deny; And just enough of water and of bread To keep, some days, the dying from the dead : Some cordage, canvass, sails, and lines, and twine, But treasures all to hermits of the brine, Were added after, to the earnest prayer Of those who saw no hope, save sea and air; And last, that trembling vassal of the Pole The feeling compass — Navigation's soul. 4

III. Awake, bold Bligh! the foe is at the gate ! Awake! awake ! - Alas! it is too late ! Fiercely beside thy cot the mutineer Stands, and proclaims the reign of rage and fear. Thy limbs are bound, the bayonet at thy breast; The hands, which trembled at thy voice, arrest; Dragg'd o'er the deck, no more at thy command The obedient helm shall veer, the sail expand; That savage spirit, which would lull by wrath Jts desperate escape from duty's path, Glares round thee, in the scarce believing eyes Of those who fear the chief they sacrifice :

VI. And now the self-elected chief finds time To stun the first sensation of his crime, And raise it in his followers – “Ho! the bowl!" Lest passion should return to reason's shoal. “ Brandy for heroes !” 6 Burke could once exclaim No doubt a liquid path to epic fame;

"C" A few hours before, my situation had been peculiarly Alattering: I had a ship in the most perfect order, stored with every necessary, both for health and service; the object of the voyage was attained, and two thirds of it now completed. The reinaining part had every prospect of success." — B1.IGH.)

? [“ The women of Otaheite are handsome, mild, and cheerful in manners and conversation, possessed of grcat sensibility, and have sufficient delicacy to make them be admired and beloved. The chiefs were so much attached to our people, that they rather encouraged their stay among them than otherwise, and even made them promises of large possessions. Under these and many other concomitant circumstances, it ought hardly to be the subject of surprise that a set of sailors, most of them void of connections, should be led away, where they had the power of fixing themselves, in the midst of plenty, in one of the finest islands in the world, where there was no necessity to labour, and where the allurements of dissipation are beyond any conception that can be formed of it." -B.)

3 [" Just before sunrise, while I was yet asleep, Mr. Chris. tian, with the master at arms, gunner's mate, and Thomas Burkitt, seaman, came into my cabin, and, seizing me, tiert my hands with a cord behind my back, threatening me with instant death, if I spoke or made the least noise. I nevertheJess called out as lond as I could, in hopes of assistance; but the otficers not of their parts were already secured by sen. tinels at their doors. At my own cabin door were three men, besides the four within: all except Christian had muskets and

bayonets; he had only a cutlass. I was dragged out of bed, and forced on deck in my shirt. On demanding the reason o! such violence, the only answer was abuse for not holding my tongue. The boatswain was then ordered to hoist out the launch, accompanied by a threat, if he did not do it instantly.to take care of himself. "The boat being hoisted out, Mr. Heç. ward and Mr. Hallet two of the midshipmen, and Mr. Samuel, the clerk, were ordered into it. I demanded the intention of giving this order, and endeavoured to persuade the people near me not to persist in such acts of violence; but it was to no etfect ; for the constant answer was, . Hold your tongue, or you are dead this moment!'" – BLIGH.]

* (* The boatswain and those seamen who were to be put into the boat were allowed to collect twine, canvass, lines, sails, cordage, an eight-and-twenty-gallon cask of water ; and Mr. Samuel got one hundred and filty pounds of bread, with a small quantity of rum and wine; also a quadrant and compass."

--B.] 5 [" The mutineers having thus forced those of the seamen whom they wished to get rid of into the boat, Christian di. rected a dram to be served to each of his crew." - B.)

6 [It appears to have been Dr. Johnson who thus fare honour to Cognac. -" He was persuadeci," sars Boswell, “ to take one glass of claret. He shook his head, and said, Poor stuff! - No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero (smiling) inust drink brandy.'"- See Dusucll, vol. viii. p. A. ed. 1835)