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That their unsteadfast footing did proceed
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," there
Reports a turbulent sea and tempest towards,"3
And wills them, if they '11 save their ship and lives,
To cast their hiding 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 ;w 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," on the dolphin's back,
Still fumbling on a gittern." 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 atone" the broil;
Of imminent shipwreck, enters the house, and finds them
In this confusion; they adore his staff,
And think it Neptune's'3 trident; and that he
Comes with his Tritons" (so they call his watch)
To calm the tempest, and appease the waves ; —
And at this point we left them. T. Hetwood.
CXL. — THE LUTIST AND THE NIGHTINGALE.*
1 Passing from Italy to Greece, the tales
* There are well-authenticated instances of singing-birds that havf dropped down dead in the apparent effort to emulate the musio producod Croin some instrument.
Tlian the old inmates to my love, my thoughts,
2. A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather,
This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute,
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 down
He could not run divisions with more art
Upon his quaking instrument than Bhe,
The nightingale, did with her various notes
4. Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last
Whom art had never taught cliffs," moods, or notes
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 lute,
And brake her heart. It was the quaintest sadness
To see the conqueror138 upon her hearse
To weep a funeral elegy of tears.
6 He looked upon the trophies of his art,
Then sighed, then wiped his eyes; then sighed and cried,
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.
1. The Tardv Spring.— Whittier.
We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south,
2. The Blue-bird's Song. — A. B. Street.
Hark, that sweet carol! With delight
We leave the stifling room;
Spring, gloriouB Spring, has come!
Are leaping off in showers;
And birds, will soon be ours.
3 The Delights Of Spring. — Mary Howitt.
The Spring, — she is a blessed thing,
She is the mate of birds and bees,
The partner of their revelries, —
Our star of hope through wintry houra,
The little brooks run on in light,
The skies are blue, the air is balm;
4. The First Warm Day Of Spring.—Horace Smith.
The perTume and the bloom that shall decorate the flowei
Are quickening in the gloom of their subterranean bower;
And the juices meant to feed trees, vegetables, fruits,
Unerringly proceed to their preappointed roots.
How awful Is the thought of the wonders under ground,
Of the mystic changes wrought in the silent, dark profounl!
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. Simms.
O! thou bright and beautiful day,
Bringing the slumbering life into play,
1 feel thy promise in all my veins,
They bound with a feeling long suppressed,
Leap the glad hopes in my heaving breast.
Thou hast no tidings of gloom and death,
And sweets thou breathest with every breath.
6. The Birns Of Spring.
Mng on by fane and forest old, by toml)s and cottage eaves,
7. Divine Bounty Manifest In Spring. — Thomson.
What is this mighty breath, ye sages, say,
The informing Author in his works appears.
CXLII. — THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.
An Indian seldom jests. He usually speaks low, and under his breath. Loquacity is with him an indication of being a trifling character, and of deeds inversely less as his words are more The young men, and even the boys, have a sullen, moody, and unjoyous countenance; and seem to have little of that elastic gayety with which the benevolence of Providence has endowed the first days of the existence of most other beings. In this general remark, we ought not, perhaps, to include the squaw, who shows some analogy of feeling to the white female.
The males evidently have not the quick sensibilities, the acute perceptions, of most other races. They do not easily sympathize with what is enjoyment or suffering about them. Nothing but an overwhelming excitement can arouse them. They seem callous to all the passions, but rage. Every one has remarked how little surprise they express for whatever is new, strange, .or striking. True, it is partially their pride that induces them to affect this indifference, — for, that it is affected, we have had numberless opportunities to discover. It is, with them, not only pride, but calculation, to hold in seeming contempt things which they arc aware they cannot obtain and possess. But they seem to be born with an instinctive determination to be independent, if possible, % of nature and society, and to concen'trate within themselves an existence, which, at any moment, they seem willing to lay down.
Their impassible fortitude and endurance of suffering, their rontempt of pain and death, invest their character with a kind of