ways
To animate mirth's scene;
An honest lawyer, Henry, next
With speech and bottle plies you;
And when by fell disease perplex'd,
Charles physics and revives you.
"Love, law, and physic," here combine
To claim the poet's praise:
May fortune's sunbeams ever shine
On three such worthy Days.

A few more songs and a few more grogs brought on the hour of ten; and
now our friends having departed to their homes, Horace and myself took
a turn or two upon deck, smoked out our cigars, conjured up the
reminiscences of our school-boy days, and having spent a few moments
in admiration of the starry canopy which spread its spangled brightness
over our heads, we sought again the cabin, drank a parting glass to old
friends, turned into our births, and soon were cradled by the motion
of the vessel into sweet repose. The events of the former evening, the
novelty of the scene, and, above all, the magnificence of Nature, as
she appeared when viewed from sea, in her diurnal progress through the
transition ~167~~of morning, noon, and night, all inspired my Muse
to attempt poetic sketches of the character of the surrounding island
scenery. A delightful pleasure I have endeavoured to convey to my
readers in the following rhymes.

MORNING IN THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

When o'er the foreland glimmering day
Just breaks above the eastern lulls,
And streaks of gold through misty gray
Dispels night's dark and vap'rous chills;
Then, when the landsman 'gins to mow
The perfumed crop on grounds above,
And sailors chant the "yeo, heave yeo,"
Then young hearts wake to life and love.
When still and slow the murmuring swell
Of ocean, rising from his throne,
O'erleaps the beach, and matin's bell
To prayer invites the college drone;
Then, when the pennant floats on high,
And anchor's weigh'd again to rove,
And tuneful larks ascend the sky,
Then young hearts wake to life and love.
When, by unerring nature's power,
Creation breaks the spell of night,
And plants their leaves expand and flow'r,
And all around breathes gay delight;
Then when the herdsman opes his fold
To let the merry lambkin rove,
And distant hills are tipt with