and in his waving hair, and looked from that lone post of death in still yet brave despair; and shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, the wreathing fires made way. They wrapped the ship in splendour wild, they caught the flag on high, and streamed above the gallant child like banners in the sky. There came a burst of thunder-sound-the boy-oh! where was he? Ask of the winds that far around with fragments strewed the sea! With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, that well had borne their part; but the noblest thing that perished there was that young, faithful heart. THE ORPHAN BOY.-(Mrs. Opie.) STAY, Lady! stay for mercy's sake, and hear a helpless Orphan's tale! Ah! sure, my looks must pity wake; 'tis want that makes my cheek so pale. Yet I was once a mother's pride, and my brave father's hope and joy; but in the Nile's proud fight he diedand I am now an Orphan Boy! Poor, foolish child! how pleased was I, when news of Nelson's victory came, along the crowded streets to fly, and see the lighted windows flame! To force me home my mother sought; she could not bear to see my joy, for with my father's life 'twas bought-and made me a poor Orphan Boy! The people's shouts were long and loud; my mother, shuddering, closed her ears: "Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd; my mother answered with her tears. "Why are you crying thus," said I, "while others laugh, and shout with joy?" She kissed me, and, with such a sigh, she called me her poor Orphan Boy! "What is an orphan boy?" I said; when, suddenly, she gasped for breath, and her eyes closed-I shrieked for aid, but, ah! her eyes were closed in death! And now they've tolled my mother's knell, and I'm no more a parent's joy :-Oh Lady I have learned too well what 'tis to be an Orphan Boy! Oh, were I by your bounty fed—nay, gentle Lady, do not chide; trust me, I mean to earn my bread; the sailor's orphan boy has pride! Lady, you weep-What is't you say? You'll give me. clothing, food, employ? Look down, dear parents! look and see your happy, happy Orphan Boy! THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.-(Byron.) THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, and his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; and the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, when the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, that host with their banners at sunset were seen; like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, that host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, and breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; and the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, and their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, but through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; and the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, and cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, with the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; and the tents were all silent, the banners alone, the lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, and the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; and the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, hath melted like snow-in the glance of the Lord! THE BEACON LIGHT.-(J. G. Saxe.) "Go seaward, son, and bear a light!" Up spoke the sailor's wife, "Thy father sails this stormy night 66 In peril of his life! 'His ship has sailed to foreign lands The boy comes back: "O mother dear! No torch can live, 'tis very clear, Before the wind and rain !" "No sailor's blood hast thou, I trow, Let rains descend, let tempests blow! Once more he lights the torch, and goes Towards the foaming main; The rain it rains, the wind it blows! The boy comes back: "O mother dear! "No sailor's blood hast thou, I trow, A mermaid's face-take heart of grace, The boy comes back: "O mother dear! Go thou unto the strand; My father's voice I sure did hear In tones of stern command!" And now the mother lights the torch; And, see! the kindling rays Have caught the thatch! from roof to porch The hut is all ablaze! "What hast thou done!" the urchin cries; "O piteous sight to see! Cold is the night; O wretched plight! "No sailor's blood hast thou, I wis. Thanks to the light! and now he steers THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. (Longfellow.) IT was the schooner Hesperus, that sailed the wintry sea; and the skipper had taken his little daughter, to bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairyflax, her cheeks like the dawn of day, and her bosom white as the hawthorn buds that ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, his pipe was in his mouth, and he watched how the veering flaw did blow the smoke now west, now south. Then up and spake an old sailor, had sailed the Spanish Main: "I pray thee, put into yonder port, for I fear a hurricane. Last night, the moon had a golden ring, and to-night no moon we see!" The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe, and a scornful laugh laughed he. Colder and louder blew the wind, a gale from the north-east; the snow fell hissing in the brine, and the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain the vessel in its strength; she shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, then leaped her cable's length. Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, and do not tremble so; for I can weather the roughest gale, that ever wind did blow." He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat, against the stinging blast; he cut a rope from a broken spar, and bound her to the mast. "O father! I hear the church-bells ring, oh, say, what may it be?" "Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!"-and he steered for the open sea. "O father! I hear the sound of guns, oh, say, what may it be?" "Some ship in distress, that cannot live in such an angry sea!" "O father! I see a gleaming light, oh, say, what may it be?" but the father answered never a word, a frozen corpse was he. Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, with his face turned to the skies, the lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow on his fixed and glassy eyes. Then the maiden clasped her hands, and prayed that savèd she might be; and she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave on the Lake of Galilee. And fast through the midnight dark and drear, through the whistling sleet and snow, like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept towards the reef of Norman's Woe. And ever, the fitful gusts between, a sound came from the land; it was the sound of the trampling surf, on the rocks and the hard sea-sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, she drifted a dreary wreck, and a whooping billow swept the crew like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves looked soft as carded wool; but the cruel rocks, they gored her side like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, with the masts, went by the board; like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank: "Ho! ho!" the breakers roared! At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, a fisherman. stood aghast, to see the form of a maiden fair lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, the salt tears in her eyes; and he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, on the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, in the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, on the reef of Norman's Woe! THE PILGRIM FATHERS.-(Mrs. Hemans.) THE breaking waves dashed high on a stern and rock-bound coast; And the woods, against a stormy sky, their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark on the wild New England shore. |