Were they, the faithful of the earth,
For God had shut them in!

And now the rain from heaven descends,

But not as heretofore,

In gentle showers to fertilize

The glowing verdant shore;

But in rough storms;-see lightning now,

And now the thunder hurled, Proclaims that vengeance is prepared, Against a drowning world.

In vain to steeps the wretch ascends,
Higher the waters rise;

Beneath come up the madd'ning waves,

Above are stormy skies.
But still the ark securely floats,

Upon the swelling tide;

Safe from the storm, and ev'ry ill

Are those whom God doth hide.

That little speck on the broad deep,
A family contained,
Enclosed within a little space,

All who on earth remained.

And tho' the flood be passed away,

The shelter doth abide,

The ark of refuge may be found,
In Jesu's bleeding side!

MISS PARKER.

The Storm King.

At length the crimsoned west
Received the God of day,

And the gulf-stream tide, did softly glide,

As it floated down the bay.

And the dolphins burnished tail,

Like a rudder of gold was seen,

Flying round the mermaid, as she twined her braid,

And plaited her locks of green.

And the lamp of heaven arose,

With a halo round her rim,

And she called a gleam, from her brightest beam,

To fling upon ocean's brim.

She bathed the rocks with light,

And the reefs with her silvery glow,

But her shadow she gave, to the dark green wave, For many a fathom below.

She clothed the madrepores,

With silvery coated stems,

Till the sea did shine, like an emerald mine,

All studded with diamond gems.

And all around grew calm,

As the thoughts in an angel's breast

And it was beautiful there as the sepulchre
Where the virtuous lie at rest.

For ocean needed repose,

And when soothed by the eve of spring, Not a ripple did pass o'er her bosom of glass, Save a dip of the sea-fowl's wing.

For the cold north wind was fast

With spring's sunny spell wove round him, But the Storm King crept, while ocean slept,

To loosen the tie that bound him.

He flooded the coral reef,

He shifted the bank of sand,

And he strode o'er the shoal in the pride of his soul With a thunderbolt in his hand.

He'd a bow of thick ribbed ice

And a cloud for his courser black,

With a zig-zag rein of light'ning's flame,

And a quiver of hail at his back.

With a lance in his saddle bow

To shiver the forest trees,

While clouds of sleet, like spurs at his feet,

Gave motion to the breeze.

When the north winds' chilling blast,

Swept mournfully o'er the strand,

And it changed the scene like a fairy dream,
Or the touch of a wizard's wand.

The shark in the deep water plunged,
Like a hunter in quest of his prey,
And he dyed the flood with jaws of blood,
In the track of his foaming way.

And the dark plumed albatross

Flew screeching along the shore,

And on each wave roll the flying fish shoal,

Did bound from the albicore.

But the Storm King flew to the east,
Where blood-red clouds did lie,
To prepare a flood of thick black scud,
To darken all the sky.

When all around around

Was such pitchy darkness spread,

Like the chaos that hung, ere the first earth sprung To life from its oozy bed.

But at length the Storm King came,

And nature shrunk aghast,

Fore he bore the wolf's growl on his nightly prowl,

In the front of his fitful blast.

He scattered the forest leaf,

He bared the budding grain,

And he clothed the rock with his thunder shock,

And hurl'd it o'er the main.

And the hollow, hollow wind,

Was mixed with the thunders' roar,

And the sea-gull's scream, by the light'ning's gleam,

Was rung along the shore.

But the beacon's turret pane

Did send forth a cheering ray,

And I marked its leap from the headland's steep,
Thro' a shower of mist and spray.

It reached the breaker's edge,

It gambol'd along the line,

And it mounted the froth of the Storm King's wrath,

That topped the mountain's brim.

It flashed on the coral reef,

It shone on the triton there,

And it danced on the shell, that rung the knell,

For the shipwreck'd mariner.

But the breath of the stormy King,

Soon quenched the flick'ring light,

And the helpless crew of the bark in his view,

Were food for the fish that night.