Why should we mount upon the wave, And ocean's yawning horrors brave, When we may swallow from the flask Whatever the wants of mortals ask? Contentment's realms no fears invade, No cares annoy, no sorrows shade, There plac'd secure, in peace we rest, Nor aught demand to make us blest.

That was the grandest funeral That ever passed on earth; But no man heard the trampling, Or saw the train go forth Noiselessly as the daylight Comes back when night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun.

She starts,she moves,she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!" * *

Fulfil old dreams, O splendid bird, Me o'er the waters bear; Sure never ocean's face was stirred By any ship so fair!

Ah! were the cup a league in rim, And deep as is the ocean's blue, I'd hold its girth were all too slim And wine of kisses thrice too few.

This disease, according to Dr. Darwin, is an unconquerable desire of returning to one's native country, frequent in long voyages, in which the patients become so insane, as to throw themselves into the sea, mistaking it for green fields or meadows: "So, by a calenture misled, The mariner with rapture sees, On the smooth ocean's azure bed, Enamell'd fields and verdant trees.

Here, by the restless ocean's side, Sweet hours of hope have flown, When first the triumph of its tide Seem'd omen of our own.

I love the ocean's broad expanse, when dress'd In limpid clearness, or when tempests blow.

My ship glides toward the saffron west, Beyond the old Phenician gate To ocean's gently heaving breast, Whence, on the ever-freshening breeze, There greet my spirit words like these; Sail bravely on!

the morning light Shall find thee far beyond the land; Gibraltar's battlemented height And Afric's tawny hills of sand Shall soon completely sink from view Beneath the ocean's belt of blue.

the fall of Ocean's wall, Space mocked, and time outrun; And round the world the thought of all Is as the thought of one!

This is no light aid to the pirates; for there are English ports on every sea, and on almost every one of the ocean's tributaries.

How stood his squadrons like the steadfast rock, Frowning on Ocean's ineffectual shock!

1 When the rough north forgets to howl, And ocean's billows cease to roll; When Lybian sands are bound in frost, And cold to Nova-Zembla's lost; When heavenly bodies cease to move, My blue-eyed Ann I'll cease to love!

Next morn he fain would wash in ocean's spray (there's Balm in the waves that helps you to forget), And lo!

Thy melody no more: For ocean's mourning dirge alone Breaks on thy rocky shore.

And in my ear, the thundering tide Was music, and the ocean's moan An echo of my spirit, wide As the wave, and stormy as its own.

Nationality, trade, class no more affect the oneness of mankind than do the ocean's surface variations of color or weather affect its unchangeable chemistry.

And lustily he calls for knight and squire: Now with his trusty blade, of temper good, The stout knight clears his course to ocean's flood, Sweeps right and left the scatter'd rout away, And climbs the bark of his protectress fay; Light glides the ebon keel the waters o'er, And his glad footsteps press his native shore.

A bubble on the ocean's breast, A glow-worm's feeble ray, That loses all its brilliancy Beneath the orb of day.

Through heaven and earth, and ocean's depths: he throws His influence round, and kindles as he goes.

R.N., Thus by the Cam we meet again; And, as in wilder sterner days, We shared the ocean's dreary ways In fellowship of single aim, I never doubt we'll do the same By sunny Cam in happier times; And therefore, if through these my rhymes Some gentle banter slyly flits, Forgive me, Sirsand call it quits.

The May-time flew for men; The morning rose ungreeted From ocean's joyless breast; Unhail'd the evening fleeted To ocean's joyless breast Wild through the tangled shade, By clouded moons they stray'd, The iron race of Men!

On the horizon the fog crouched and moved; marched like a battalion of ocean's ghosts; suddenly cohered and sent out light puffs of smoke, as from the crater of a spectral volcano.

In early youth some found their graves, With friends and kindred by; While some beneath the ocean's waves In dreamless slumbers lie; While many more, in distant lands, No friends nor kindred near, Are laid to rest by strangers' hands, Without one friendly tear.