Replete with happiness, with rapture bright!

An age of pain is sure repaid by this, 'Tis joy too great--'tis ecstasy of bliss!

Ye sweet sensations crowding on my soul, Which following each other swiftly roll,-- Ye dear ideas which unceasing press, And pain this bosom by your wild excess, Ah! kindly cease--for pity's sake subside, Nor thus o'erwhelm me with joy's rapid tide: My beating heart, oppress'd with woe and care, Has yet to learn such happiness to bear: From grief, distracting grief, thus high to soar, To know dull pain and misery no more, To hail each op'ning morn with new delight, To rest in peace and joy each happy night, To see my Lycidas from bondage free, Restored to life, to pleasure, and to me, To see him thus--adorn'd with virtue's charms, To give him to a longing mother's arms, To know him by surrounding friends caress'd, Of honour, fame, of life's best gifts possess'd, Oh, my full heart! 'tis joy--'tis bliss supreme, And though 'tis real--yet, how like a dream!

Teach me then, Heav'n, to bear it as I ought, Inspire each rapt'rous, each transporting thought; Teach me to bend beneath Thy bounteous hand, With grat.i.tude my willing heart expand: To Thy omnipotence I humbly bow, Afflicted once--but ah! how happy now!

Restored in peace, submissive to Thy will, Oh! bless his days to come--protect him still; Prolong his life, Thy goodness to adore, And oh! let sorrow's shafts ne'er wound him more.

NESSY HEYWOOD. _London, October 15th, 1792, Midnight_.

[34] Mr. Graham's daughter.

[35] Several elegiac stanzas were written on the death of this accomplished young lady. The following are dated from her native place, the Isle of Man, where her virtues and accomplishments could best be appreciated.

How soon, sweet maid! how like a fleeting dream The winning graces, all thy virtues seem!

How soon arrested in thy early bloom Has fate decreed thee to the joyless tomb!

Nor beauty, genius, nor the Muse's care, Nor aught could move the tyrant Death to spare: Ah! could their power revoke the stern decree, The fatal shaft had past, unfelt by thee!

But vain thy wit, thy sentiment refined, Thy charms external, and accomplish'd mind; Thy artless smiles, that seized the willing heart, Thy converse, that could pure delight impart; The melting music of thy skilful tongue, While judgement listen'd, ravish'd with thy song: Not all the gifts that art and nature gave, Could save thee, lovely Nessy! from the grave.

Too early lost! from friendship's bosom torn, Oh might I tune _thy_ lyre, and sweetly mourn In strains like thine, when beauteous Margaret's[A] fate Oppress'd thy friendly heart with sorrow's weight; Then should my numbers flow, and laurels bloom In endless spring around fair Nessy's tomb.

[A] Alluding to some elegant lines, by the deceased, on the death of a female friend.

[36] The following appears to have been written by Mr. P. Heywood on the day that the sentence of condemnation was pa.s.sed on him.

----Silence then The whispers of complaint,--low in the dust Dissatisfaction's daemon's growl unheard.

All--all is good, all excellent below; Pain is a blessing--sorrow leads to joy-- Joy, permanent and solid! ev'ry ill, Grim death itself, in all its horrors clad, Is man's supremest privilege! it frees The soul from prison, from foul sin, from woe, And gives it back to glory, rest, and G.o.d!

Cheerly, my friends,--oh, cheerly! look not thus With Pity's melting softness!--that alone Can shake my fort.i.tude---all is not lost.

Lo! I have gain'd on this important day A victory consummate o'er myself, And o'er this life a victory,--on this day.

My birthday to eternity, I've gain'd Dismission from a world, where for a while, Like you, like all, a pilgrim, pa.s.sing poor, A traveller, a stranger, I have met Still stranger treatment, rude and harsh! I so much The dearer, more desired, the home I seek, Eternal of my Father, and my G.o.d!

Then pious Resignation, meek-ey'd pow'r, Sustain me still! Composure still be mine.

Where rests it? Oh, mysterious Providence I Silence the wild idea.--I have found No mercy yet--no mild humanity, With cruel, unrelenting rigour torn, And lost in prison--lost to all below!

And the following appears to have been written on the day of the king's pardon being received.

--Oh deem it not Presumptuous, that my soul grateful thus rates The present high deliv'rance it hath found;-- Sole effort of Thy wisdom, sov'reign Pow'r, Without whose knowledge, not a sparrow fells!

Oh I may I cease to live, ere cease to bless That interposing hand, which turn'd aside-- Nay, to my life and preservation turn'd,-- The fatal blow precipitate, ordain'd To level all my little hopes in dust, And give me--to the grave.

[37] With which the Editor, at his request, was favoured at the time.

[38] The only authority that then existed for laying down this island was that of Captain Carteret, who first saw it in 1767. 'It is so high,'

he says, 'that we saw it at the distance of more than fifteen leagues, and it having been discovered by a young gentleman, son to Major Pitcairn of the marines, who was unfortunately lost in the _Aurora_, we called it _Pitcairn's Island_.' He makes it in lat. 25 2' S. and long.

133 30' W., no less than _three degrees_ out of its true longitude!

_Three minutes_ would _now_ be thought a considerable error:--such are the superior advantages conferred by lunar observations and improvements in chronometers.

Pitcairn's Island has been supposed to be the '_Encarnacion_' of Quiros, by whom it is stated to be in lat. 24 30', and one thousand leagues from the coast of Peru; but as he describes it as 'a low, sandy island, almost level with the sea, having a few trees on it,' we must look for '_Encarnacion_' somewhere else; and _Ducies_ Island, nearly in that lat.i.tude, very low, and within 5 of longitude from Pitcairn's Island, answers precisely to it.

[39] As the manner of Christian's death has been differently reported to each different visitor, by Adams, the only evidence in existence, with the exception of three or four Otaheitan women, and a few infants, some singular circ.u.mstances may here be mentioned that happened at home, just at the time of Folder's visit, and which might render his death on Pitcairn's Island almost a matter of doubt.

About the years 1808 and 1809, a very general opinion was prevalent in the neighbourhood of the lakes of c.u.mberland and Westmoreland, that Christian was in that part of the country, and made frequent private visits to an aunt who was living there. Being the near relative of Mr.

Christian Curwen, long member of Parliament for Carlisle, and himself a native, he was well known in the neighbourhood. This, however, might be pa.s.sed over as mere gossip, had not another circ.u.mstance happened just about the same time, for the truth of which the Editor does not hesitate to avouch.

In Fore Street, Plymouth Dock, Captain Heywood found himself one day walking behind a man, whose shape had so much the appearance of Christian's, that he involuntarily quickened his pace. Both were walking very fast, and the rapid steps behind him having roused the stranger's attention, he suddenly turned his face, looked at Heywood, and immediately ran off. But the face was as much like Christian's as the back, and Heywood, exceedingly excited, ran also. Both ran as fast as they were able, but the stranger had the advantage, and, after making several short turns, disappeared.

That Christian should be in England, Heywood considered as highly improbable, though not out of the scope of possibility; for at this time no account of him whatsoever had been received since they parted at Otaheite; at any rate the resemblance, the agitation, and the efforts of the stranger to elude him, were circ.u.mstances too strong not to make a deep impression on his mind. At the moment, his first thought was to set about making some further inquiries, but on recollection of the pain and trouble such a discovery must occasion him, he considered it more prudent to let the matter drop; but the circ.u.mstance was frequently called to his memory for the remainder of his life.

[40] This n.o.bbs is probably one of those half-witted persons who fancy they have received a _call_ to preach nonsense--some cobbler escaped from his stall, or tailor from his s...o...b..ard. Kitty Quintal's cant phrase--'we want food for our souls,' and praying at meals for 'spiritual nourishment,' smack not a little of the jargon of the inferior caste of evangelicals. Whoever this pastoral drone may be, it is but too evident that the preservation of the innocence, simplicity, and happiness of these amiable people, is intimately connected with his speedy removal from the island.

[41] Well may Adams have sought for rules for his little society in a book, which contains the foundation of the civil and religious policy of two-thirds of the human race,--in that wonderful book, into whose inspired pages the afflicted never seek for consolation in vain.

Millions of examples attest this truth. 'There is no incident in _Robinson Crusoe_,' observes a writer in a critical journal, 'told in language more natural and affecting, than Robert Knox's accidental discovery of a Bible, in the midst of the Candian dominions of Ceylon.

His previous despondency from the death of his father, his only friend and companion, whose grave he had but just dug with his own hands, "being now," as he says, "left desolate, sick, and in captivity,"--his agitation, joy, and even terror, on meeting with a book he had for such a length of time not seen, nor hoped to see--his anxiety lest he should fail to procure it--and the comfort, when procured, which it afforded him in his affliction--all are told in Buch a strain of true piety and genuine simplicity as cannot fail to interest and affect every reader of sensibility.'

[42] If there were _three_ instruments and _three_ boats, there must have been _one_ for _each_, for the quadrant was just as good as a s.e.xtant.--ED.

[43] The mistake is here again repeated; it would be absurd to suppose that one boat had both quadrant and s.e.xtant.

[44] It is not explained with what kind of fuel they performed this distressing operation.

[45] Here, again, is another mistake; the number must have been _eleven_ at most, one of the boats having parted before the others reached the island.--ED.