Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

clothing powerful steam-engines are spinning and weaving for me, and making cutlery for me, and pumping the mines, that minerals useful to me may be procured

2. My patrimony was small, yet I have locomotive engines running, day and night, on all the railroads, to carry my correspondence. I have canals to bring the coal for my winter fire. Then I have telegraphic lines, which tell me what has happened a thousand miles off, the same day of its occurrence; which flash a messa ge for me in a minute to the bedside of a sick relative hundreds of miles distant; and I have editors and printers who daily send me an account of what is going on throughout the world, amongst all these people who serve me. By the daguei. reotype I procure in a few seconds a perfect likeness of myself or friend, drawn without human touch, by the simple agency of light.

3. And then, in a corner of my house, I have books !- the miracle of all my possessions, more wonderful than the wishingcap of the Arabian Tales; for they transport me instantly not only to all places, but to all times. By my books I can con'jure up before me, to vivid existence, all the great and good men of old; and, for my own private satisfaction, I can make them act over again the most renowned of all their exploits. In a word, from the equator to the pole, and from the beginning of time until now, by my books I can be where I please.

4. This picture is not overcharged, and might be much extended ; such being the miracle of God's goodness and provi. dence, that each individual of the civilized millions that cover the earth may have nearly the same enjoyments as if he were the single lord of all!

CXXXIX. — STRONG DRINK MAKETH MEN FOOLS.

1. This gentleman and I

Passed but just now by your next neighbor's house,
Where, as they say, dwells one young Lionel,
An unthrift youth, — his father now at sea, -
And there, this night, was held a sumptuous feast.
In the height of their carousing, all their brains
Warmed with the heat of wine, discourse was offered
Of ships and storms at sea ; when, suddenly,
Out of his giddy wildness, one conceives
The room wherein they quaffed to be a pinnace,
Moving and floating, and the confused Er noise
To be the murmuring of winds, gusts, mariners,

That their unsteadfast footing did proceed

From rocking of the vessel.
2 This conceived,

Each one begins to apprehend the danger,
And to look out for safety. Fly, saith one
Up to the main-top and discover. He
Climbs by the bed-post to the tester, El there
Reports a turbulent sea and tempest towards, Es
And wills them, if they 'll save their ship and lives,
To cast their lading overboard. At this,
All fall to work, and hoist into the street,
As to the sea, what next comes to their hand —
Stools, tables, tressels, trenchers, bedsteads, cups,

Pots, plate, and glasses.
3. Here a fellow whistles —

They take him for the boatswain ;Er one lies struggling
Upon the floor, as if he swam for life;
A third takes the bass-viol for a cock-boat,
Sits in the hollow on 't, labors and rows, -
His oar, the stick with which the fiddler played ;
A fourth bestrides his fellow, thinking to escape,
As did Arion, EI on the dolphin's back,
Still fumbling on a gittern.ex The rude multitude,
Watching without, and gaping for the spoil

Cast from the windows, went by the ears about it.
4. The constable is called to atoneEi the broil ;

Which done, he, hearing such a noise within
Of imminent shipwreck, enters the house, and Ends them
In this confusion; they adore his staff,
And think it Neptune'sEl trident; and that he
Comes with his Îrītonski (so they call his watch)
To calm the tempest, and appease the waves ; —
And at this point we left them.

T. HEYWOOD.

CXL. THE LUTIST AND THE NIGHTINGALE.*
1 PASSING from Italy to Greece, the tales

Which poets of an elder time have feigned
To glorify their Tempëri bred in me
Desire of visiting this Paradise.
To Thessaly I came, and living private,
Without acquaintance of more sweet companions

• There are well-authenticated instances of singing-birds that have dropped down deal in the apparent effort to emulate the music producod from some instrument.

Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts,
I day by day frequented silent groves
And solitary walks. One morning early
This accident encountered me: I heard
The sweetest and most ravishing contention
That art and nature ever were at strife in.

2. A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather,

Indeed, entrănced my soul : as I stole nearer,
Invited by the melody, El I saw
This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lūte,
With strains of strange variëty and harmony,
Proclaiming, as it seemed, so bold a challenge
To the clear choristers of the woods, the birds,
That, as they flocked about him, all stood silent,
Wondering at what they heard. I wondered too.

3. A nightingale,

Nature's best-skilled musician, undertakes
The challenge ; and for every several strain
The well-shaped youth could touch, she sang him dowo
He could not run divisions with more art
Upon his quaking instrument than she,
The nightingale, did with her various notes

Reply to.
4. Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last

Into a pretty anger, that a bird,
Whom art had never taught cliffs, El moods, or notes
Should vie with him for mastery, whose study
Had busied many hours to perfect practice.
To er:d the controversy, - in a rapture
Upon his instrument he plays so swiftly,
So many voluntaries, and so quick,
That there was curiosity in cunning,
Concord in discord, lines of differing method
Meeting in one full centre of delight.

5. The bird (ordained to be

Music's true martyr) strove to imitate
These several sounds'; which, when her warbling throat
Failed in, for grief down dropt she on his lūte,
And brake her heart. It was the quaintest sadness
To see the conqueror138 upon her hearse
To weep a funeral elegy of tears.

He looked upon the trophies of his art,
Then sighed, then wiped his eyes; then sighed and cried,
“ Alas! poor creature, I will soon revenge
This cruelty upon the author of it.
Henceforth this lute, guilty of innocent blood,

Shall never more betray a harmless peace
To an untimely end :"--and in that sorrow
As he was dashing it against a tree,
I suddenly stept in.

FORD

CXLI. — POETRY OF THE SEASONS.

PART FIRST.
1. THE TARDY SPRING. — Whittier.
WE wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south,
The touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth;
For the yearly evan'gelei thou bearest from God,
Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod!
Up our long river valley for days have not ceased
The wail and the shriek of the bitter north-east,
Raw and chill as if winnowed through ices and snow,
All the way from the land of the wild Esquimaux.
0, soul of the spring-time, its balm and its breath!
0, light of its darkness, and life of its death!
Why wait we thy coming ? why linger so long
The warmth of thy breathing, the voice of thy song?
Renew the great miracle ! let us behold
The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled,
And Nature, like Lazarus, rise as of old !

2. THE BLUE-BIRD's Song. — A. B. Street.
Hark, that sweet carol! With delight

We leave the stifling room ;
The little blue-bird meets our sight,

Spring, glorious Spring, has come!
The south-wind's balm is in the air,
The melting snow-wreaths everywhere

Are leaping off in showers ;
And Nature, in her brightening looks,
Tells that her flowers, and leaves, and brooke

And birds, will soon be ours.

3 THE DELIGHTS OF SPRING. - Mary Howitt.
The Spring, - she is a blessëd thing,

She is the mother of the flowers ;
She is the mate of birds and bees,
The partner of their revelries, -

Our star of hope through wintry hours,
The little brooks run on in light,

As if they had a chase of mirth ;

The skies are blue, the air is balm;
Our very hearts have caught the charm

That sheds a beauty o'er the earth.

4. The First Warm Day of SPRING. Horace Smith.
Che perfume and the bloom that shall decorate the flower
Are quickening in the gloom of their subterranean bower ;
And the juices meant to feed trees, vegetables, fruits,
Uněrringly proceed to their preäppointed roots.
How awful is the thought of the wonders under ground,
Of the mystic changes wrought in the silent, dark profouni !
How each thing upward tends, by necessity decreed,
And a world's support depends on the shooting of a seed !
The Summer 's in her ark, and this sunny-pinioned day
Is commissioned to remark whether Winter holds his sway;
Go back, thou dove of peace, with the myrtle on thy wing,
Say that floods and tempests cease, and the world is ripe for Spring

5. A WELCOME TO SPRING. — Wm. G. Sinms.
0! thou bright and beautiful day,

First bright day of the virgin Spring,
Bringing the slumbering life into play,

Giving the leaping bird his wing!
I feel thy promise in all my veins,

They bound with a feeling long suppressed,
And, like a captive who breaks his chains,

Leap the glad hopes in my heaving breast.
There are life and joy in thy coming, Spring,

Thou hast no tidings of gloom and death,
But buds thou shakest from every wing,

And sweets thou breathest with every breath. .

6. THE BIRDS OF SPRING. Sing on by fane and forest old, by tombs and cottage eaves, And tell the waste of coming flowers, the wood of coming leaves , Sing the same song that o'er the birth of earliest blossoms rang, And caught its music from the hymn the stars of morning sang! It hailed the radiant path of Spring by stream and valley fair, And o’er the earth's green hill-tops when no step but hers was thurs And, like the laurel's gift of green, the violet's depth of blue, It has survived a thousand thrones, and yet the song is new.

7. DIVINE BOUNTY MANIFEST IN SPRING. Thomson.
What is this mighty breath, ye sages, say, .
That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard,
Instructs the fowls of heaven ; and through their breast

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »