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taract Into drifted snow-waves sink. A father's eye Looketh anxiously On the freaks of his favour'd child, Till her spirit appals His soul, and he calls "Antoinette" in accents wild. A bolder heart Loves the girl's free sport, And he grasps her by the gown, Then tosseth her high In the twilight sky-- But, heavens! she falleth down! She sinks in the wave; He swimmeth to save! Oh, never was mortal arm More manfully braced, As it grasps her slim waist, And struggles in frantic alarm! In vain does he strike-- The fresh waves break, And the doom'd ones are downward borne! Yet the swimmer's eye Seemeth still to defy The might of the merciless storm. More loud than before Is the cataract's roar, And the furrow'd wave is bright With many a pearl From the shining swirl Of the water's lucid light. And down below Is the woolly snow Of Niagara's wrathful bed, But the lip of the bold Hath never told The secrets that there lie hid. A strong arm, press'd Round a maiden's waist On the doleful morrow is seen, And her oozy hair Laves his forehead bare With the waft of the wavy stream. ROBERT WILSON. Robert Wilson was born in the parish of Carnbee, and county of Fife. He practised for some time as a surgeon in St Andrews. He has contributed many pieces of descriptive verse to the periodicals. In 1856, a duodecimo volume of "Poems" from his pen was published at Boston, U.S. His other publications are a small volume on "The Social Condition of France," "Lectures on the Game Laws," and several _brochures_ on subjects of a socio-political nature. He has latterly resided at Aberdour, Fifeshire. AWAY, AWAY, MY GALLANT BARK. Away, away, my gallant bark! The waves are white and high; And fast the long becalmed clouds Are sailing in the sky. The merry breeze which wafts them on, And chafes the billow's spray, Will urge thee in thy watery flight: My gallant bark, away! Now, like the sea-bird's snowy plumes, Are spread thy winged sails, To soar above the mountain waves, And scoop their glassy vales; And, like the bird, thou 'lt calmly rest,
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