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And my shoulder stiff to the wheel I

lay, As I answer, Ay, ay, sir! Ha-a-rd

a lee!'

In my fo'castle bunk, in a jacket

dry, Eight bells have struck and my watch is below.

WALTER MITCHEL.

With the swerving leap of a startled

steed The ship flies fast in the eye of the

wind, The dangerous shoals on the lee

recede, And the headland white we have

left behind.

SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN

BERMUDA.

The topsails flutter, the jibs collapse, And belly and tug at the groaning

cleats; The spanker slats, and the mainsail

flaps; And thunders the order, Tacks and

sheets !"

Mid the rattle of blocks and the

tramp of the crew, Hisses the rain of the rushing squall: The sails are aback from clew to

clew, And now is the moment for, “Main

sail, haul!"

And the heavy yards, like a baby's

toy, By fifty strong arms are swiftly

swung: She holds her way, and I look with

joy For the first white spray o'er the bul

warks flung.

WHERE the remote Bermudas ride
In the ocean's bosom unespied,
From a small boat that rowed along,
The listening winds received this

song : “What should we do but sing His

praise, That led us through the watery

maze Where He the huge sea-monsters

wracks, That lift the deep upon their backs, Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own? He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storms, and prelate's

rage: He gave us this eternal spring Which here enamels every thing, And sends the fowls to us in care On daily visits through the air. He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night, And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows: He makes the figs our mouths to

meet, And throws the melons at our feet; But apples, plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice. With cedars chosen by his hand From Lebanon he stores the land; And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergris on shore. He cast (of which we rather boast) The gospel's pearl upon our coast; And in these rocks for us did frame A temple where to sound his name. Oh! let our voice his praise exalt Till it arrive at heaven's vault, Which then perhaps rebounding may Echo beyond the Mexique bay." Thus sung they in the English boat A holy and a cheerful note: And all the way, to guide their

chime, With falling oars they kept the time.

A. MARVELL.

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CAVE OF STAFFA.

In symmetry, and fashioned to en

dure, Unhurt, the assaults of time with all

his hours, As the supreme Artificer ordained.

WORDSWORTH.

THE STORM.

THANKS for the lessons of this spot,

fit school For the presumptuous thoughts that

would assign Mechanic laws to agency divine, And, measuring heaven by earth,

would overrulle Infinite power. The pillared vesti

bule, Expanding yet precise, the roof em

bowed, Might seem designed to humble

man, when proud Of his best workmanship by plan

and tool. Down-bearing with his whole Atlan

tic weight Of tide and tempest on the struc

ture's base, And flashing upwards to its topmost

height, Ocean has proved its strength, and

of its grace In calms is conscious, finding for his

freight Of softest music some responsive place.

WORDSWORTH.

The sky is changed; and such

a change! O night, And storm, and darkness, ye are

wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is

the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling

crags among, Leaps the live thunder! Not from

one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath

found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her

misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!

BYRON.

SUNSET.

FLOWERS ON THE TOP OF THE PILLARS AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE CAVE.

IIOPE smiled when your nativity

was cast, Children of summer! Ye fresh

flowers that brave What summer here escapes not, the

fierce wave, And whole artillery of the western

blast. Battering the temple's front, its

long-drawn nave Smiting, as if each moment were

their last. But ye, bright flowers, on frieze and

architrave Survive, and once again the pile

stands fast, Calm as the universe, from specular

towers Of heaven contemplated by spirits

pureSuus and their systems, diverse yet

sustained

The moon is up, and yet it is not

night: Sunset divides the sky with her;

a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine

height Of blue Friuli's mountains; heaven

is free From clouds, but of all colors

seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the west, Where the day joins the past

eternity; While, on the other hand, meek

Dian's crest Floats through the azure air, an

island of the blest.

A single star is at her side, and

reigns With her o'er half the lovely

heaven; but still Yon sunny sea heaves brightly,

and remains Rolled o'er the peak of the far

Rhotian hill,

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NIGHT AND DEATH.

MYSTERIOUS Night! when our first

Parent knew Thee, from report divine, and

heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely

Frame,
This glorious canopy of Light and

Blue?
Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent

dew, Bathed in the rays of the great set

ting Flame, Hesperus with the Host of Heaven

came, And lo! Creation widened on Man's

view. Who could have thought such Dark

ness lay concealed Within thy beams, o Sun! or who

could find, Whilst flower, and leaf, and insect

stood revealed, That to such countless Orbs thou

mad'st us blind!

WHEN the radiant morn of creation

broke, And the world in the smile of God

awoke, And the empty realms of darkness

and death Were moved through their depths

by his mighty breath, And orbs of beauty and spheres of

flame From the void abyss by myriads

came, In the joy of youth as they darted

away; Through the widening wastes of

space to play, Their silver voices in chorus rung, And this was the song the bright ones

sung. Away, away, through the wide,

wide sky, The fair blue fields that before us

lie, Each sun with the worlds that round

him roll, Each planet poised on her turning

pole;

Glide on, in the glory and gladness

sent, To the farthest wall of the firma

ment, The boundless visible smile of Him, To the veil of whose brow your lamps are dim."

BRYANT.

THE MILKY WAY.

With her isles of green and her

clouds of white, And her waters that lie like fluid

light. “For the Source of Glory uncovers

his face, And the brightness o'erflows un

bounded space; And we drink, as we go, the lumi

nous tides In our ruddy air and our blooming

sides: Lo, yonder the living splendors

play; Away, on our joyous path, away! “Look, look, through our glittering

ranks afar, In the infinite azure, star after star, How they brighten and bloom as they

swiftly pass! How the verdure runs o'er each roll

ing mass! And the path of the gentle winds is

seen, Where the small waves dance, and

the young woods lean. "And see, where brighter day-beams

pour, How the rainbows hang in the sunny

shower; And the morn and eve, with their

pomp of hues, Shift o'er the bright planets and shed

their dews; And'twixt them both, o'er the teem

ing ground, With her shadowy cone the night

“Lo," quoth he, “cast up thine

eye, See yonder, lo! the galaxie, The which men clepe the Milky Way, For it is white; and some parfay Callen it Watling streete, That once was brent with the hete, When the Sunne's sonne the rede, That "ight Phaeton, would lead Algate his father's cart, and gie.*

* The cart horses gan well aspie,
That he could no governaunce,
And gan for to leape and praunce,
And bear him up, and now down,
Till he saw the Scorpioun,
Which that in Heaven a signe is yet,
And for feré lost his wit
Of that, and let the reynés gone
Of his horses, and they anone
Soone up to mount, and downe de-

scend,
Till both air and Earthé brend,
Till Jupiter, lo! at the last
Him slew, and fro the carté cast.

CHAUCER.

НОРЕ. .

goes round!

Away, away! in our blossoming

bowers, In the soft air wrapping these spheres

of ours, In the seas and fountains that shine

with morn, See, love is brooding, and life is born, And breathing myriads are breaking

from night, To rejoice like us, in motiou and

light. "Glide on in your beauty, ye youth

ful spheres, To weave the dance that measures

the years;

At summer eve, when heaven's aë

rial bow Spans with bright arch the glittering

hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the

musing eye, Whose sunbright summit mingles

with the sky ? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint

appear More sweet than all the landscape

smiling near ? 'Tis distance lends enchantment to

the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

CAMPBELL. • Guide.

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