TO THE RIVER ORWELL,

BY MR. BERNARD BARTON.

Opposite to Harwich, the river Orwell unites itself with the Stour, which rises on the western side of the county, and first running southward to Haverhill, takes an eastern direction, and forms, throughout its whole course, the boundary between Suffolk and Essex. It passes by Sudbury; and after being joined by the Bret and other smaller streams, receives the tide at Manningtree. The united waters of these rivers, having formed the port of Harwich, discharge themselves into the German Ocean, between that town, and Landguard Fort.

Drayton, in his Poly-Olbion, thus describes the union of these Rivers :

For it hath been divulg'd the Ocean all abroad,
That Orwell and this Stour, by meeting in one Bay,
Two, that each others good, intended euery way,
Prepar'd to sing a Song, that should precisely show,
That Medway for her life, their skill could not out-goe:-
For Stour, a daintie flood, that duly doth diuide
Faire Suffolke from this Shire, vpon her other side;
By Clare first comming in, to Sudbury doth show
The euen course she keepes; when farre she doth not flow,
But Breton, a bright Nymph, fresh succour to her brings;
Yet is she not so proud of her superfluous Springs,
But Orwell comming in from Ipswitch thinkest hat shee
Should stand for it with Stour, and lastly they agree,
That since the Britans hence their first Discoueries made,
And that into the East they first were taught to trade.
Besides, of all the Roads, and Hauens of the East,
This Harbor where they meet, is reckoned for the best.

Tradition affirms, that the outlet of the Stour and Orwell was anciently on the north side of Landguard Fort, through Walton marshes, and that the place called the Fleets was part of this original channel.

SWEET stream! on whose banks in

residing,

my childhood

Untutor❜d by life in the lessons of care;

In the heart-cheering whispers of hope still confiding, Futurity's prospects seem'd smiling and fair.

Dear river! how gaily the sun-beams are glancing On thy murmuring waves, as they roll to the main! While my tempest-tost bark, on life's ocean advancing, Despairs of e'er finding a harbour again.

Fair Orwell! those banks which thy billows are laving,
Full oft have I thoughtlessly saunter'd along;
Or beneath those tall trees, which the fresh breeze
is waving,

Have listen'd with rapture to nature's wild song.

But say, can thy groves, though with harmony ringing,

Recal the emotions of youthful delight?

Or can thy gay banks, where the flowerets are springing,

Revive the impressions they once could excite?

Ah no! those bright visions for ever are vanish'd,
Thy fairy dominion, sweet Fancy, is o'er;
The soft-soothing whispers of Hope too are banish'd,
The "
Song of the Syren" enchants me no more.

Adieu, lovely Orwell! for ages still flowing!
On thy banks may the graces, and virtues combine:
Long, long may thy beauties, fresh raptures bestow-

ing,

. Diffuse the sweet pleasure they've yielded to mine.

F

When this head is reclined on its last clay-cold

pillow,

My memory forgotten, my name passed away; May a Minstrel, more bless'd, snatch my harp from the willow,

And devote to thee, Orwell! a worthier lay.

LINES

Written on the Coast of Suffolk,

AUGUST 27, 1793.

Aldeburgh derives its name from the river Alde, and is pleasantly situated under the shelter of a steep hill, which runs north and south the whole length of the principal street, about three quarters of a mile. It was formerly a place of considerable importance, but repeated incroachments of the sea have reduced it to the rank of a small fishing town. During the last century, the ocean made great ravages, and destroyed many houses, together with the market-place and cross. A plan of the town in 1559, which is still extant, proves it at that time to have been a place of considerable magnitude; and represents the Church as being at more than ten times its present distance from the shore; and that there were Denes of some extent, similar to those at Yarmouth, between the town and the sea. At the northern extremity, on the summit of the hill, stands the Church, an ancient building, though very much intermixed with modern work, with a handsome Porch, on the south side. It contains no remarkable monuments; but there are some stones apparently of considerable antiquity in the church-yard, which, from its elevated situation, commands a magnificent view of the ocean. Near the Church stands a Marine Villa, built on an Italian plan, by L. Vernon, Esq. and much admired for a beautiful octagon room. At the extremity of the town also, on the brow of the hill, are situated the

mansion of the Hon. P. Wyndham; and a romantic Cassino, the favorite summer-residence of the Marquis of Salisbury. At the opposite end of the terrace, is the seat of W. C. Crespigny, Esq. For the protection of the fishery and trading vessels on this coast, there is a. battery of two eighteen pounders at the southern extremity of the main street; and a Martello tower on the beach, about three quarters of a mile further to the south, is intended to add to their security. This building, though commenced some years ago, yet remains unfinished; indeed the necessity and advantage of such an expensive erection appear equally doubtful. The native inhabitants of this place are chiefly fishermen.

WHERE ALDEBURGH's delightful cliff o'erhangs
The humble cot-or on the winding beach,
Where the blue waves roll gently on my feet,
Or lash the sounding shore-O let me stray,
In sweet and pensive contemplation lost!

There let me view the ocean's vast expanse,
While thriving Commerce spreads her swelling sails,
And ships are wafted, by propitious winds,
"On the smooth surface of the summer's sea."
Now all is placid and serene; no breeze

Now curls the whitening wave: how just an emblem Of the tranquil mind, which no rude storms invade, No tempests shake, no passions turbulent

Assail Lo, now the heav'ns are over-cast,

And whistling winds portend th' approaching storm.
Awful vicissitude! The sullen deep

Assumes a form tremendous, loud threat'ning
Instant desolation. The billows rage,

And in mad tumult toss themselves on high;
Whilst all is wild affright, and horror hangs
Aghast, upon the broken wave. But soon
The dreadful pause is o'er :-the rolling floods,

Impetuous, dashing with terrific roar
Descend, hoarse-thund'ring on the beach.

In this stupendous scene, behold the hand
Omnipotent of Him, who rides sublime

Upon the foaming surge! He rules the storm,
Curbs the wild winds, and bids the waves be still!
Submissive, at his call, the boist'rous waves
At once subside; the howling winds are hush'd,
And all is still as death-save where the waters,
Controul'd, subdu'd, o'eraw'd, by power divine,
With deep and hollow murmurs, slow retire
To their appointed bounds.

Inscription

FOR THE

TOMB OF GUTHRUN THE DANE,

In St. Mary's Church, Hadleigh:

BY NATHAN DRAKE, M. D.

Guthrum, Guthrun, or Gormo, the Dane, was one of those chieftains or sea-kings, who, towards the close of the ninth century, issuing from the heart of Scandinavia, carried all the horrors of the most savage warfare throughout the coasts, and even the interior of England.

Educated in the religion of Odin, the acknowledged god of slaughter and desolation, these fierce warriors conceived themselves alone entitled to happiness in another world, in proportion to the violence of their own death, and the number of the enemy whom they had slain on the field of battle.