The Children's Garland from the Best Poets - LightNovelsOnl.com
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'O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee!'
The western wind was wild and dank with foam, And all alone went she.
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The creeping tide came up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see; The blinding mist came down and hid the land-- And never home came she.
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Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair?-- A tress o' golden hair, O' drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea.
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair Among the stakes on Dee.
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They row'd her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea: But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee.
_C. Kingsley_
x.x.xVI
_THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE_
Toll for the brave!
The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native sh.o.r.e!
Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side.
A land breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave!
Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock: She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock.
His sword was in its sheath; His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down, With twice four hundred men.
Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes!
And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main.
But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more.
_W. Cowper_
x.x.xVII
_A SEA DIRGE_
Full fathom five thy father lies: Of his bones are coral made: Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea change Into something rich and strange; Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them,-- Ding, dong, bell.
_W. Shakespeare_
x.x.xVIII
_THE ANCIENT MARINER_
It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three.
"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
"The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide, And I am next of kin: The guests are met, the feast is set: May'st hear the merry din."
He holds him with his glittering eye-- The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
"The s.h.i.+p was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top.
"The sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he, And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea.
"Higher and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon"-- The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud ba.s.soon.
The Bride hath paced into the hall: Red as a rose is she; Nodding their heads before her goes The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, Yet he cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
"And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'er-taking wings, And chased us south along.
"With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The s.h.i.+p drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
"And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold: And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald.
"And through the drifts the snowy clifts Did send a dismal sheen: Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken-- The ice was all between.
"The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around: It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound!
"At length did cross an Albatross, Thorough the fog it came; As if it had been a Christian soul, We hailed it in G.o.d's name.
