Her rattling shrouds all sheathed in ice, At day-break on the bleak sea-beach, To see the form of a maiden fair The salt sea was frozen on her breast, And he saw her hair like the brown sea-weed, Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, Heav'n save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe! H. W. Longfellow XLVI A CANADIAN BOAT SONG Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Why should we yet our sail unfurl? G But when the wind blows off the shore, Utawas' tide! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon. Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers, Oh, grant us cool heavens, and favouring airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past. T. Moore XLVII O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell ; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. 'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew, 'The blackening wave is edged with white; 'Last night the gifted seer did view A wet shroud swathed round lady gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch; Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?' "Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir "Tis not because the ring they ride, -O'er Roslin all that dreary night A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; 'Twas broader than the watch-fires' light, And redder than the bright moonbeam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden. Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud Seem'd all on fire within, around, And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! And each St. Clair was buried there With candle, with book, and with knell ; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle. Sir W. Scott XLVIII THE BALLAD OF THE BOAT The stream was smooth as glass, we said, 'Arise and let's away :' The Siren sang beside the boat that in the rushes lay ; And spread the sail, and strong the oar, we gaily took our way. When shall the sandy bar be cross'd? when shall we find the bay? The broadening flood swells slowly out o'er cattledotted plains, The stream is strong and turbulent, and dark with heavy rains; The labourer looks up to see our shallop speed away. When shall the sandy bar be cross'd? when shall we find the bay? Now are the clouds like fiery shrouds; the sun, superbly large, Slow as an oak to woodman's stroke sinks flaming at their marge. The waves are bright with mirror'd light as jacinths on our way. When shall the sandy bar be cross'd? when shall we find the bay? The moon is high up in the sky, and now no more we see The spreading river's either bank, and surging distantly There booms a sullen thunder as of breakers far away. Now shall the sandy bar be cross'd, now shall we find the bay! The sea-gull shrieks high overhead, and dimly to our sight The moonlit crests of foaming waves gleam towering through the night. We'll steal upon the mermaid soon, and start her from her lay, When once the sandy bar is cross'd, and we are in the bay. What rises white and awful as a shroud-enfolded ghost? What roar of rampant tumult bursts in clangour on the coast? Pull back! pull back! The raging flood sweeps every oar away. O stream, is this thy bar of sand? O boat, is this the bay? R. Garnett |