At last, when care had banished sleep,
He saw one morning-dreaming-doating,
An empty hogshead 2 from the deep
Come shoreward floating.

He hid it in a cave, and wrought
The livelong day laborious; lurking
Until he launched a tiny boat
By mighty working.

Heaven help us! 'twas a thing beyond
Description wretched: such a wherry 3
Perhaps ne'er ventured on a pond,
Or crossed a ferry.

For ploughing in the salt sea field,

It would have made the boldest shudder; Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled, No sail-no rudder!

From neighbouring woods he interlaced
His sorry skiff with wattled willows;
And thus equipped he would have passed
The foaming billows.

But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, His little Argo sorely jeering;

4

Till tidings of him chanced to reach
Napoleon's hearing.

With folded arms Napoleon stood,

Serene alike in peace and danger, And in his wonted attitude

Addressed the stranger:

'Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned ! Thy heart with some sweet British lass Must be impassioned.' 5

NAPOLEON AND THE SAILOR.

'I have no sweetheart,' said the lad; 'But, absent long from one another, Great was the longing that I had To see my mother.'

'And so thou shalt !' Napoleon said; 'Ye've both my favour fairly won: A noble mother must have bred So brave a son.'

gave the tar a piece of gold,

And with a flag of truce commanded He should be shipped to England Old, And safely landed.

It chanced that William Tell that morn
Had left his cottage home,

And, with his little son in hand,
To Altorf 3 town had come.

For oft the boy had eyed the spoil
His father homeward bore,

And prayed to join the hunting crew,
When they should roam for more.

And often on some merry night,
When wondrous feats were told,
He longed his father's bow to take,
And be a hunter bold.

So towards the chamois' 4 haunts they went-
One sang his childish songs,
The other brooded mournfully
O'er Uri's griefs and wrongs.

Tell saw the crowd, the lifted cap,
The tyrant's angry frown;
And heralds shouted in his ear,

'Bow down, ye slaves, bow down!'

Stern Gesler marked the peasant's mien,
And watched to see him fall;
But never palm-tree straighter stood
Than Tell before them all.

My knee shall bend,' he calmly said, 'To God, and God alone: My life is in the Austrian's hand,

My conscience is my own.'

'Seize him, ye guards!' the ruler cried,

While passion choked his breath; 'He mocks my power, he braves my lord

He dies the traitor's death.

"Yet wait. The Swiss are marksmen true-
So all the world doth say;
That fair-haired stripling hither bring,
We'll try their skill to-day.'

Hard by a spreading lime-tree stood,
To this the youth was bound;
They placed an apple on his head;
He looked in wonder round.