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vation was keen, and rapid; his criticisms on any inaccuracy of language, or expression were frequently severe; yet this severity was always intended eventually to create mirth, and not by any means to shew his own superiority, or to give the smallest offence. In his natural temper he was cheerful, and frequently used to amuse his Messmates by composing Acrostics on their favourites; in which he particularly excelled. As a professional man, he was a thorough Seaman; and, like most of that profession, was kind, generous, and benevolent. He often assured Governor HUNTER, that his education had been confined merely to reading English, writing, and a little arithmetic; notwithstanding which he was never at a loss to understand either French, Spanish, Italian, or even German.

In this edition I have employed my utmost diligence, and latterly amidst distraction, " in sickness, and in sorrow," that I might induce my Countrymen to honour the watery Grave of the shipwrecked FALCONER. I trust the tribute, thus paid to his memory, cannot fail of producing the desired effect, since through the kindness of Mr. *BOWLES,

The Notes signed W. L. B. were hints given me by this gentleman; those signed N. P. by Mr. Pocock; and those signed E. D. C. by my brother; for the Italian passages, signed F.D. I am indebted to a learned foreigner. I also beg leave to return my thanks to Captain FRANCIS MASON of the RATTLER Sloop of War, and to HENRY STREATFEILD, Esq. of Trinity College, Cambridge.

I have been enabled to employ a kindred genius to chaunt, in mournful melody,

THE DIRGE OF POOR ARION.

What pale and bleeding YOUTH (while the fell Blast
Howls o'er the Wreck, and fainter sinks the cry
Of struggling Wretches ere o'erwhelmed they die)
Yet floats upborne upon the driving Mast?

O poor ARION! has thy sweetest Strain,

That charm'd old Ocean's wildest solitude,

At this dread hour his waves dark might subdued?

Let SEA-MAIDS thy reclining head sustain ;

And wipe the blood, and briny drops, that soil

Thy looks, and give once more thy wreathed Shell
To ring with melody :-Oh fruitless Toil!
Hark! o'er thy head again the Tempests swell ;
Hark! hark again the Storm's black demons yell

More loud; the bellowing Deep reclaims his spoil!
PEACE! and may weeping SEA-MAIDS sing thy Knell.

* Written on the Platform at Portsmouth, April 16, 1803.

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INTRODUCTION

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THE POEM.

WHILE jarring interests wake the World to arms
And fright the peaceful vale with dire alarms,
While ALBION bids th' avenging thunder's roll
Along her vassal Deep from pole to pole;

Sick of the scene, where War with ruthless hand
Spreads desolation o'er the bleeding land,
Sick of the tumult, where the trumpet's breath
Bids ruin smile, and drowns the groan of Death;
"Tis mine, retired beneath this cavern hoar
That stands all lonely on the sea-beat shore,
Far other themes of deep distress to sing
Than ever trembled from the vocal string;
A scene from dumb Oblivion to restore,
To Fame unknown, and new to Epic lore:
Where hostile elements conflicting rise,

And lawless Surges swell against the skies,

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