ORIGINAL POETRY. FLOWERS. BY BERNARD BARTON. HE who delights to trace, with serions thought And seeking humbler objects to portray, What though the glorious Sun, enthron'd on high, And night to uight yet added knowledge shows,- And Wisdom's purest precepts may disclose, Cull'd from the Lily's bloom, or gather'd from the Rose ! Yes, you delightful handy-works of HIM Who arch'd the Heavens, and spann'd this solid Earth, Before whose glory day's proud light is dim, And Art's achievements, if not food for mirth, Display at best its barrenness and dearth,You, too, instruct us, and with "line on line, Precept on precept," show us by your birth, Your bud, your blossoming, and your decline, TIME's never-ceasing flight, and tell us truths divine. You, as the changing Seasons roll along, Still wait on each, and added beauties lend :- Others with Summer's brighter glories blend ;- Enwreathe the King of storms with Mercy's gentle sheen. Come forth, then, lovely heralds of the Spring! To light and life, from; darkness and the dead! And you,-in gay variety that grace, In later months, with beauty the parterre, "Making a sunshine in the shady place," As Una and her milk-white lamb were there; Arise! arise! and in your turns declare The power of Him who has not only made The depths of Ocean, and the heights of Air, And Earth's magnificence, but has display'd In you that power and skill with beauty's charms array'd. Uplift, proud Sun-flower, to thy favourite Orb That disk whereon his brightness loves to dwell; And, as thou seem'st his radiance to absorb, Proclaim thyself The Garden's Sentinel :- And thou too, gentle, modest Heather-bell, You Evening Primroses, when day has fled, And where my favourite Abbey rears on high The parting splendours of the day's decline, So tenderly and beautifully shine, As if reluctant still to leave that hoary shrine. Convolrolus, expand thy cup-like flower, Each lovely thought; and ye, whose lowlier pride Your blossoms meet to twine the brow of purest Bride. And thou, so rich in gentlest names, appealing A Thought, The Heart's Ease,' or Forget me not,' Who deck'st alike the Peasant's garden-plot, And Castle's proud parterre; with humble joy Proclaim afresh by castle and by cot, Hopes which ought not, like things of time to cloy, And feelings Time itself shall deepen-not destroy ! Fruitless and endless were the task, I ween, With every Flower to grace my votive lay ;And unto Thee, their long-acknowledg'd QUEEN, Fairest and loveliest! and thy gentle sway, Beautiful Rose, my homage I must pay, For how can Minstrel leave thy praise unsung, Whose meek supremacy has been alway Confess'd in many a clime, and many a tongue, And in whose praise the harp of many a bard has rung? Mine is unworthy such a lovely theme; Yet could I borrow of that tuneful Bird Those thrilling harmonies at midnight heard Vain were the hope to rival Bards,-whose lyres, Though fair as any gracing Beauty's bower, Is link'd to Sorrow like a holy thing, And takes its nanie from suff'ring's fiercest hour, Be this my noblest theme, imperial Passion-flower! Whatever impulse first conferr'd that name, 1 freely own its spirit-touching clain, With thoughts and feelings it may well impart : Not that I would forego the surer chart Of REVELATION for a mere conceit; Yet with indulgence may the Christian's heart Each frail memorial of His MASTER greet, And chiefly what recalls his love's most glorious feat. Be this the closing tribute of my strain ! Be this, fair Flowers! of charms, your last, and best! That when THE SON OF GOD for Man was slain, Circled by you, He sank awhile to rest, Not the Grave's captive, but a Garden's guest, And He, whose brow the wreath of thorns had prest, A FORECASTLE STORY. (Extracted from Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine.) BUT sense, my hearts! I were talking of ghosts and figures of the dead. Now, I'll convince you all at once, by telling you a real true story-one, my boys, that I can swear to, for I were told it by ould Oliver, the forecastleman, when I was hardly the height of a marlin spike; and since that time, which wasn't yesterday, I've heard it read in a book, and sung in a song. The song begins in this manner,-you must all have heard it UT avast with such non Captain Oram went to sea, On board of the Benjamin, ho! Now, maties, I've seen the Benjamin often when I was a boy; for she lay long an empty hulk in one of the Liverpool docks-nobody caring to have anything to do with her. And as for Captain Oram, I don't know what became of him, thof I've heard it said as how he died raving mad.-But, avast, I've begun at the wrong end of my story. Now, pay attention, my mates, and don't put me out by any questions, and you shall hear all about it. You must know, that this same story was a mighty favourite of old Oliver's,-thof he had hundreds of such like; for I always did remark, that just let a fellow make the least mention of it in his hearing, and he in the humour at the time, and you'd set him a spinning at it directly, for all the world like a barge-mop, to your very heart's wish. Well, my lads, this same story of his'n, which we commonly used to call THE BLOODY BREAD-BAG, used commonly to make sail in this here manner, as I shall presently tell you.-Hem! "You must know, then, my lads, that the good ship the Benjamin, belonging to Liverpool, was a fine large smacking hooker, mayhap about 450 or 500 tons, which traded between that port and the West India islands, and was commanded by a fellow of the name of Jerry Oram, a butcher's son of Bristol; a great horse of a chap as I've heard say, who had his starboard eye doused, and wore large red whiskers. Now, this same Jerry Oram, though an excellent seaman, was like too many of the same line, a complete knave, by which I mean, you know, as the saying is, he was a harbour-saint and a sea-devil; quite a tartar of a fellow, that stuck at nothing, but treated those under his command, as soon's he got fairly to sea, just as it pleased him, pinching some of their grub, and denying their right to any grog,-starting and abusing others, for he was very liberal both of his fists and his feet, and almost constantly cheating some one or other poor fellow out of his wa ges. Numerous complaints had been made against him on these and such like matters to the owners; but the rogue had such an invincible cheek, and so smooth and oily a tongue, that he got over them all, and came always off with flying colours; nor was it until their best hands had left him that the owners would make the least inquiry into his evil doings. Well, at last they did so, or at least they pretended to do so; and by dint of blarney, plenty of grog, and fair promises, the Benjamin was once more fairly manned, and set sail outward bound. No sooner had they cleared the Land's end, however, than you'll not hinder Jerry from commencing the old game, so that by the time they arrived in Montego Bay, and had got rid of their cargo, most of his hands, heartily sick of his bad faith and ill usage, either cut their stick, or refused to go any farther with him. In vain did the owners there cajole and flatter them, and in vain did Captain Oram speechify and promise amendment; they were no longer to be deceived, and resolutely refused to handle another rope-yarn belonging to him. All that he could fleech out of them was, that they shouldn't leave the ship until he procured other hands from Port-Royal, for which place he immediately set out, the Benjamin meaning to stand athwart to the Gold Coast, in order to pick up a few hundreds of them there Blackamoor devils, what d'ye call 'emwhich at that time were getting scarce in the island. Well, in a few days Captain Oram returned, bringing a gang of fellows with him who would not have adorned the thinnest shell of a French privateer that ever, spread canvass in the Channel. They were a set of regular built tatterdemalions; of all colours, blacks,browns, reds, and whites, and of all countries, English, Dutch, Danish, French, Spanish, and Portuguese; and I really believe that the only handy fellow amongst them was my old mess-mate, Oliver, who had lost his own ship in a cruize on shore. No time was now lost in fitting out the Benjamin for her proposed new cargo, and preparing her for sea; and as the owners, at last, had begun to suspect that all was not perfectly fair on the part of Captain Jerry, they resolved to send a young gentleman along with him, by way of supercargo, to serve as a future check on his conduct. This young fellow, who was a man of colour, as they're commonly called, had been shortly before that married on a planter's daughter, and nothing would serve his turn, but, in a foolish fit of fondness, he'd take his young wife out along with him; and, accordingly, in an evil hour as it afterwards proved, and just before the Benjamin got under weigh, who should come on board but Captain Oram and Master and Madame Morelle, as happy and comfortable as birds in May. "Everything went on for a few weeks as smoothly as a pannikin of cocoa; for the supercargo had a prodigal sea-stock both of grub and grog, Madame Morelle was young and trimly made, and had a devil of a fine pair of black top-lights,—and the Captain was Englishman enough, to be very fond of his grub, but still fonder and madder after a pretty smiling face, surmounted on a petticoat; so that thus all pleased with themselves and one another, who was like Captain Jerry and Master and Madame More!le. Thus, all billing and cooing, they were as merry as crickets in a baker's oven, and, of course, there vas nothing but flashy dinners under the quarter-deck awning, grog to the mast-head, and fiddling, dancing, and larking, to four bells often of the first watch. In fact, everything on board the hooker was so altered for the better, that, as old Oliver used to say, he'd a likened her more to one of them trim, fancy, flashy gilded yachts his Majesty sometimes goes a-pleasuring in, than the old, rusty, sable-sided Ben of Liverpool. But too much happiness is not good, and, indeed, was never meant for this here world, you know; since it is ever followed, after a jolly dinner and a good blow-out of grog, with squeamishness of the stomach, languor of the body, and nausea and disgust of the mind; so that, thof every thing rolled cheerily for a few weeks, 'twas well known it couldn't last forever, any more than we might now expect to be eternally in smooth water, d'ye see. Well, to be sure, all of a sudden matters assumed quite another appearance, the lively trio having seemingly all gone on dif ferent tacks; for the dinners and larkings were completely knocked offCaptain Oram became thoughtful and peevish, and began to his old game of knocking his fists about; and as for the supercargo, he seldom left his cab in, and when he did come on deck, 'twas merely for a short and hurried walk of an evening on the lee-side of the vesel, and then down he'd dive to his cabin again. As for Madame Morelle, she was no more to be seen than if she hadn't been on board. Some indeed, conjectured, that she wan't well, and that all the fuss and alteration in the manners of the skipper and his supercargo was on her account; but this, Oliver used to say, was a thing that was all in his eye,—a mere quiz to gammon the flats,-being partly as true as it was false; for he said it was true that the coldness which had arisen between Morelle and Oram was on her account; but it was all a lie about her being badly, being confined to her cabin, much against her will, by the commands of her husband. Now, d'ye see, my lads, Oliver, who was a shrewd, silent, sly old fox, knew more of the secret than half the ship's company put together; for, being captain of the hold, he had ear-holes and eye-holes abaft, whereby he could pick up bits of news whenever he pleased, that no other person knew anything of. Now, a short time after this dryness took place, he had been down in the afterhold putting matters to rights, when he heard the supercargo and the skipper at high words together through the bulk-head. He clapped his ear to his peepholes; and, listening attentively, learnt, by what he could hear, that Morelle was jealous of the captain and his wife,—that he had been both accusing and abusing her, and had been, even so unmanly as to give her a smack or two with his fists; when her cries had brought Oram to her assistance, who, instantly bursting in upon them, like a true fellow of Britain's own breeding, boldly stuck up for the lady. Bitter, and loud, and long blew the squall, till from one thing to another they took to their fists; and then the shrieks and cries of Madame Morelle, as they immediately brought the doctor and the mates to separate the combatants, compelled old Oliver to retire from his peep-hole, though not before he perceived that Morelle had the worst of it, as every chopper the skipper gave him made the poor mulatto smell the deck whether he would or no. Open war being thus declared, frequent squabblings took place every other day, either between Morelle and his wife, or between him and Oram; with both of whom, however, he generally came off at the loss, seeing as how the lady had only to sing out to get assistance in a twinkling, and that he was neither weight nor mettle for the tremendous fist and powerful bottom of Jerry Oram. "It is impossible for me to say, my lads, for my part, whether all of you, or any of you knows any thing about this here black affair they call jealousy, or how severely it makes a fellow wince when his fancy-girl loses conceit of him and takes up with another; but this I can tell you, (I speak it from experience, d'ye see,) 'tis the devil's own potion, worse than any rubbish the doctor e'er gave you,-and give it once a fair clutch of a fellow's heart, and he's as happy in future as he'd his feet in the bilboes, with not a morsel of grog allowed. Why, mates, I recollect as 'twere but the other day, how melancholious and unhappy I were, when that precious piece of roguery of mine, Bet of Yarmouth, gave me the slip, and chimed in with that ould humbugging land-lubber, Dirtybawks, our purser's steward: In faith, I took so terribly on as to be laid up in sick bay the best part of a fortnight, I'll warrant. But all that there matters not now it is over, and I merely mention it here that you may have some trifling notion of what a teazing,restless, murdering nature, this same jealousy is. Now, d'ye see, my lads, this here Morelle, the supercargo, as I mentioned, was quite eaten up with it; for he were both jealous of his wife and the captain together, and them there colour chaps, you must know, bred up under the glare of a tropical sun, are much more fiery-blooded than we are, and take on as smartly, d'ye see, as a blue-light on such occasions. This here being the case, then, everything on board went to sixes and sevens ; there was nothing but skrimishings and squabblings be-aft, and nothing but la ziness, and mutiny, and larking, going on forward,-so that, as Oliver used to remark, the old Benjamin was never in |