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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ballads of Bravery, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Ballads of Bravery
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George Melville Baker
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2016 [EBook #53148]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS OF BRAVERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Paul Marshall and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+  Underscores "_" before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_
+    in the original text.
+  Equal signs "=" before and after a word or phrase indicate =bold=
+    in the original text.
+  Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals.
+  Illustrations have been moved so they do not break up stanzas.
+  Old or antiquated spellings have been preserved.
+  Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations
+    in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.
+  In TOC, corrected "Excelsior" reference from 137 to 136.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+                         BALLADS OF BRAVERY.
+
+                              EDITED BY
+
+                          GEORGE M. BAKER.
+
+                                WITH
+
+                   FORTY FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+                               BOSTON:
+                    LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
+                                1877.
+
+
+                             COPYRIGHT.
+
+                          LEE AND SHEPARD.
+
+                                1877.
+
+
+                               BOSTON:
+                ELECTROTYPED BY ALFRED MUDGE AND SON,
+                           SCHOOL STREET.
+
+                    UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE:
+                        WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO.
+
+                         BALLADS OF BRAVERY.
+
+                           [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+                              Contents.
+                                                            PAGE.
+     “CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT.”                         13
+     THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.--_Leigh Hunt_                   18
+     A YOUNG HERO.                                            21
+     THE BEGGAR MAID.--_Tennyson_                             26
+     BUNKER HILL.--_G. H. Calvert_                            29
+     FASTENING THE BUCKLE.--_Samuel Burnham_                  34
+     HERVÉ RIEL.--_Robert Browning_                           37
+     THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON.--_Geo. W. Bungay_               46
+     THE BRAVE AT HOME.--_T. Buchanan Read_                   50
+     KANE.--_Fitz James O’Brien_                              53
+     THE LIFE-BOAT.--_Alice M. Adams_                         58
+     THE RED JACKET.--_George M. Baker_                       61
+     OTHELLO’S STORY OF HIS LIFE.--_Shakspeare_               66
+     THE BLACKSMITH OF RAGENBACH.--_Frank Marry_              70
+     MARMION AND DOUGLAS.--_Scott_                            75
+     THE LOSS OF THE HORNET.                                  80
+     MAN THE LIFE-BOAT.--_Anon._                              84
+     SIR GALAHAD.--_Tennyson_                                 87
+     KING CANUTE AND HIS NOBLES.--_Dr. Walcott_               92
+     OUTWARD BOUND.--_Anon._                                  96
+     THE BRIDES OF VENICE.--_Samuel Rogers_                   99
+     THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.--_Mrs. Hemans_             108
+     THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY.--_Anon._                          112
+     THE SONG OF THE CAMP.--_Anon._                          116
+     THE RECANTATION OF GALILEO.--_F. E. Raleigh_            120
+     BELSHAZZAR.-_-Trans. from Heine_                        124
+     LIBERTY.--_From William Tell. By J. Sheridan Knowles_   128
+     THE FISHERMEN.--_Whittier_                              131
+     EXCELSIOR.--_Longfellow_                                136
+     THE SOLDIER.--_Robert Burns_                            140
+     JOHN MAYNARD.                                           143
+     EXCALIBUR.--_Tennyson_                                  148
+     THE DEATH OF ARTHUR.--_Tennyson_                        152
+     A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.--_Allan Cunningham_      156
+     THE LEAP OF CURTIUS.--_Geo. Aspinall_                   159
+     THE RIDE FROM GHENT TO AIX.                             164
+     A YARN.--_Mary Howitt._                                 169
+
+                           [Illustration]
+
+                         Ballads of Bravery.
+
+
+    “CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT.”
+
+    England’s sun, bright setting o’er the hills so far away,
+    Filled the land with misty beauty at the close of one sad day;
+    And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair,--
+    He with step so slow and weary; she with sunny, floating hair;
+    He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful; she, with lips so cold
+          and white,
+    Struggled to keep back the murmur, “Curfew must not ring to-night.”
+
+    “Sexton,” Bessie’s white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old,
+    With its walls so tall and gloomy, walls so dark and damp
+          and cold,--
+    “I’ve a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die
+    At the ringing of the curfew; and no earthly help is nigh.
+    Cromwell will not come till sunset,” and her face grew
+          strangely white,
+    As she spoke in husky whispers, “Curfew must not ring to-night.”
+
+    “Bessie,” calmly spoke the sexton (every word pierced her
+          young heart
+    Like a thousand gleaming arrows, like a deadly poisoned dart),
+    “Long, long years I’ve rung the curfew from that gloomy,
+          shadowed tower;
+    Every evening, just at sunset, it has told the twilight hour.
+    I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right:
+    Now I’m old, I will not miss it. Girl, the curfew rings to-night!”
+
+    Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her
+          thoughtful brow;
+    And within her heart’s deep centre Bessie made a solemn vow.
+    She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or sigh,--
+    “At the ringing of the curfew Basil Underwood _must die_.”
+    And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large
+          and bright;
+    One low murmur, scarcely spoken, “Curfew _must not_ ring to-night!”
+
+    She with light step bounded forward, sprang within the old
+          church-door,
+    Left the old man coming slowly, paths he’d trod so oft before.
+    Not one moment paused the maiden, but, with cheek and brow aglow,
+    Staggered up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and fro;
+    Then she climbed the slimy ladder, dark, without one ray of light,
+    Upward still, her pale lips saying, “Curfew _shall not_
+          ring to-night!”
+
+    She has reached the topmost ladder; o’er her hangs the great,
+          dark bell,
+    And the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell.
+    See! the ponderous tongue is swinging; ’tis the hour of curfew now,
+    And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled
+          her brow.
+    Shall she let it ring? No, never! Her eyes flash with sudden light,
+    As she springs, and grasps it firmly: “Curfew _shall not_
+          ring to-night!”
+
+    Out she swung,--far out. The city seemed a tiny speck below,--
+    There ’twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the bell swung to
+          and fro;
+    And the half-deaf sexton ringing (years he had not heard the bell),
+    And he thought the twilight curfew rang young Basil’s funeral knell.
+    Still the maiden, clinging firmly, cheek and brow so pale and white,
+    Stilled her frightened heart’s wild beating: _“Curfew shall not
+          ring to-night!”_
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    It was o’er, the bell ceased swaying; and the maiden stepped
+          once more
+    Firmly on the damp old ladder, where, for hundred years before,
+    Human foot had not been planted; and what she this night had done
+    Should be told long ages after. As the rays of setting sun
+    Light the sky with mellow beauty, aged sires, with heads of white,
+    Tell the children why the curfew did not ring that one sad night.
+
+    O’er the distant hills came Cromwell. Bessie saw him; and her brow,
+    Lately white with sickening horror, glows with sudden beauty now.
+    At his feet she told her story, showed her hands, all bruised
+          and torn;
+    And her sweet young face, so haggard, with a look so sad and worn,
+    Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light.
+    “Go! your lover lives,” cried Cromwell. “Curfew shall not
+          ring to-night!”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.
+
+    King Francis was a hearty king and loved a royal sport,
+    And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court.
+    The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride,
+    And ’mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom
+          he sighed.
+    And truly ’twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,--
+    Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.
+    Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;
+    They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with
+          their paws;
+    With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another,
+    Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother;
+    The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air.
+    Said Francis then, “Faith, gentlemen, we’re better here than there.”
+
+    De Lorge’s love o’erheard the king,--a beauteous, lively dame,
+    With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed
+          the same;
+    She thought, “The count, my lover, is brave as brave can be,
+    He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me.
+    King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;
+    I’ll drop my glove to prove his love. Great glory will be mine!”
+    She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked on him
+          and smiled;
+    He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild.
+    The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place;
+    Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady’s face.
+    “By Heaven!” said Francis, “rightly done!” rising from where he sat.
+    “No love,” quoth he, “but vanity, sets love a task like that.”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    A YOUNG HERO.
+
+    On Labrador, like coils of flame
+      That clasp the walls of blazing town,
+    The long, resistless billows came,
+      And swept the craggy headlands down;
+    Till ploughing in strong agonies
+      Their furrows deep into the land,
+      They carried rocks, and bars of sand
+    Past farthest margin of old seas,
+    And in their giant fury bore
+    Full thirty crowded craft ashore.
+    That night they pushed the darkness through,
+    O’er rocks where slippery lichens grew,
+    And swamps of slime and melted snow,
+    And torrents filled to overflow,
+    Through pathless wilds, in showers and wind,
+    Where woe to him who lags behind!
+    Where children slipped in ooze, and lay
+    Half frozen, buried half in clay;
+    Young mothers, with their babes at breast,
+    In chilly stupor dropped to rest.
+
+    A sailor lad of years fourteen
+      Had chanced, as by the waters thrown,
+      On four that made sad cry and moan
+    For parents they had lost between
+      The wreck and shore, or haply missed.
+      Cheerly and kind their cheeks he kissed,
+    And folded each in other’s arm.
+      Upon a sloping mound of moss
+      He dragged a heavy sail across,
+    Close-pinned with bowlders, rough yet warm;
+      And packing it with mosses tight,
+      Kept steadfast watch the livelong night,
+    Nor dared depart, lest e’er again
+      Was found this treasure he had hid,
+      Some sudden treacherous gust had slid
+    Beneath that rugged counterpane.
+      He knew not name or face of one.
+      He saved them. It was nobly done.
+
+    Day dawned at last. The storm had lulled;
+      And these were happy, sleeping yet.
+    A few fresh hands of moss he pulled,
+    Then traced with trembling steps the track
+      Of many footprints deeply set;
+      And pressing forward, early met
+    These children’s parents hasting back,
+      And filled their hearts with boundless joy,
+    As with blanched lips and chattering teeth
+      He told them of his night’s employ;
+      Feigned, too, he was not much distressed,
+    Although his dying heart, beneath
+      His icy-frozen shirt and vest,
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Beat faint. They went; and o’er his eyes
+    A gathering film beclouded light;
+      And music murmured in his brain,
+      Such respite sang from toil and strain
+    That all his senses, wearied quite,
+      Were lapped to slumber, lulling pain;
+    Whilst soothing visions seemed to rise,
+      That brought him scenes of other times,
+    With cherub faces, beaming bright,
+      Of many children, and the rhymes
+    His mother taught him on her knee,
+    In happy days of infancy.
+    Then gentlest forms, with rustling wings,
+      Were wafting him a world of ease
+      Beneath those downy canopies,
+    Wherewith they shut out angry skies;
+    And they with winning beckonings--
+    Who looked so sweet and saintly wise--
+    His buoyant spirit drew afar
+      From creaking timbers, shivering sails,
+      And ships that strain in autumn gales,
+      And snow-mixed rains, and sleeting hails,
+    And wind and waves at endless war.
+    Oh! who will e’er forget the day,
+      The bitter tears, the voiceless prayer,
+    The thoughts of grief we could not say,
+    The shallow graves within the bay,
+      The fifteen dear ones buried there,
+    The grown, the young, who, side by side,
+      Without or coffin, shroud, or priest,
+      Were laid; and him we mourned not least,--
+    The boy that had so bravely died!
+
+
+    THE BEGGAR MAID.
+
+    Her arms across her breast she laid;
+      She was more fair than words can say;
+    Barefooted came the beggar maid
+      Before the king Cophetua.
+    In robe and crown the king stept down
+      To meet and greet her on her way.
+    “It is no wonder,” said the lords,
+      “She is more beautiful than day.”
+
+    As shines the moon in clouded skies,
+      She in her poor attire was seen;
+    One praised her ankles, one her eyes,
+      One her dark hair and lovesome mien.
+    So sweet a face, such angel grace,
+      In all that land had never been;
+    Cophetua sware a royal oath,--
+      “This beggar maid shall be my queen.”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    BUNKER HILL.
+
+    “Not yet, not yet! Steady, steady!”
+      On came the foe in even line,
+      Nearer and nearer to thrice paces nine.
+    We looked into their eyes. “Ready!”
+    A sheet of flame, a roll of death!
+    They fell by scores: we held our breath.
+      Then nearer still they came.
+      Another sheet of flame,
+    And brave men fled who never fled before.
+      Immortal fight!
+      Foreshadowing flight
+    Back to the astounded shore.
+
+      Quickly they rallied, re-enforced,
+    ’Mid louder roar of ships’ artillery,
+    And bursting bombs and whistling musketry,
+        And shouts and groans anear, afar,
+        All the new din of dreadful war.
+      Through their broad bosoms calmly coursed
+        The blood of those stout farmers, aiming
+        For freedom, manhood’s birthright claiming.
+    Onward once more they came.
+    Another sheet of deathful flame!
+      Another and another still!
+    They broke, they fled,
+    Again they sped
+      Down the green, bloody hill.
+
+    Howe, Burgoyne, Clinton, Gage,
+    Stormed with commanders’ rage.
+    Into each emptied barge
+    They crowd fresh men for a new charge
+    Up that great hill.
+    Again their gallant blood we spill.
+    That volley was the last:
+      Our powder failed.
+    On three sides fast
+      The foe pressed in, nor quailed
+    A man. Their barrels empty, with musket-stocks
+    They fought, and gave death-dealing knocks,
+    Till Prescott ordered the retreat.
+    Then Warren fell; and through a leaden sleet
+    From Bunker Hill and Breed,
+    Stark, Putnam, Pomeroy, Knowlton, Read,
+    Led off the remnant of those heroes true,
+    The foe too weakened to pursue.
+    The ground they gained; but we
+          The victory.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    The tidings of that chosen band
+      Flowed in a wave of power
+    Over the shaken, anxious land,
+      To men, to man, a sudden dower.
+    History took a fresh, higher start
+      From that stanch, beaming hour;
+    And when the speeding messenger, that bare
+    The news that strengthened every heart,
+    Met near the Delaware
+    The leader, who had just been named,
+    Who was to be so famed,
+      The steadfast, earnest Washington,
+    With hands uplifted, cries,
+    His great soul flashing to his eyes,
+      “Our liberties are safe! The cause is won!”
+    A thankful look he cast to heaven, and then
+    His steed he spurred, in haste to lead such noble men.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    FASTENING THE BUCKLE.
+
+    Stand still, my steed, though the foe is near,
+      And sharp the rattle of hoofs on the hill.
+    And see! there’s the glitter of many a spear,
+      And a wrathful shout that bodes us ill.
+    Stand still! Our way is weary and long,
+      And muscle and foot are put to the test.
+    Buckle and girth must be tightened and strong;
+      And rider and horse are far from rest.
+
+    A moment more, and then we’ll skim
+      Like a driving cloud o’er hill and plain;
+    The vision of horseman will slowly dim,
+      And pursuer seek the pursued in vain.
+    Ha! stirrup is strong and girth is tight!
+      One bound to the saddle, and off we go.
+    I count their spears as they glisten bright
+      In the ruddy beams of the sunset glow.
+
+    ’Tis life or death; but we’re fresh and strong,
+      And buckle and girth are fastened tight.
+    The race is hard and the way is long,
+      But we’ll win as twilight fades into night.
+    Hurrah for rider and horse to-day,
+      For buckle and saddle fastened tight!
+    We’ll win! we’re gaining! They drop away!
+      Our haven of rest is full in sight.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    HERVÉ RIEL.
+
+    On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,
+      Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!
+    And the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
+    Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
+      Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,
+    With the English fleet in view.
+      ’Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase,
+    First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville.
+        Close on him fled, great and small,
+        Twenty-two good ships in all;
+        And they signalled to the place,
+        “Help the winners of a race!
+    Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick,--or, quicker still,
+    Here’s the English can and will!”
+
+    Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board.
+    “Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?”
+          laughed they.
+    “Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred
+          and scored,
+    Shall the Formidable here, with her twelve and eighty guns,
+    Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way,
+    Trust to enter where ’tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,
+            And with flow at full beside?
+            Now ’tis slackest ebb of tide.
+          Reach the mooring? Rather say,
+          While rock stands or water runs,
+          Not a ship will leave the bay!”
+
+            Then was called a council straight;
+            Brief and bitter the debate:
+    “Here’s the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow
+    All that’s left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow,
+            For a prize to Plymouth Sound?
+            Better run the ships aground!”
+            (Ended Damfreville his speech.)
+            “Not a minute more to wait!
+            Let the captains all and each
+    Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach!
+            France must undergo her fate.”
+
+            “Give the word!” But no such word
+            Was ever spoke or heard;
+    For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these,
+    A captain? A lieutenant? A mate,--first, second, third?
+            No such man of mark, and meet
+            With his betters to compete,
+    But a simple Breton sailor, pressed by Tourville for the fleet,--
+    A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel, the Croisickese.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    And “What mockery or malice have we here?” cries Hervé Riel.
+      “Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues?
+    Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell
+    On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell
+      ’Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river disembogues?
+    Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying’s for?
+            Morn and eve, night and day,
+            Have I piloted your bay,
+    Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor.
+      Burn the fleet, and ruin France? That were worse than
+          fifty Hogues!
+    Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me, there’s a way!
+            Only let me lead the line,
+              Have the biggest ship to steer,
+              Get this Formidable clear,
+            Make the others follow mine,
+    And I lead them most and least by a passage I know well,
+            Right to Solidor, past Greve,
+              And there lay them safe and sound;
+            And if one ship misbehave,
+              Keel so much as grate the ground,--
+    Why, I’ve nothing but my life; here’s my head!” cries Hervé Riel.
+
+            Not a minute more to wait.
+            “Steer us in, then, small and great!
+    Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!” cried its chief.
+            “Captains, give the sailor place!”
+              He is admiral, in brief.
+            Still the north-wind, by God’s grace.
+            See the noble fellow’s face
+            As the big ship, with a bound,
+            Clears the entry like a hound,
+    Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas profound!
+            See, safe through shoal and rock,
+            How they follow in a flock.
+    Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground,
+              Not a spar that comes to grief!
+            The peril, see, is past,
+            All are harbored to the last;
+    And just as Hervé Riel halloos, “Anchor!”--sure as fate,
+            Up the English come, too late.
+
+            So the storm subsides to calm;
+              They see the green trees wave
+              On the heights o’erlooking Greve.
+            Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.
+            “Just our rapture to enhance,
+              Let the English rake the bay,
+            Gnash their teeth and glare askance
+              As they cannonade away!
+    ’Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!”
+    How hope succeeds despair on each captain’s countenance!
+            Out burst all with one accord,
+              “This is Paradise for Hell!
+              Let France, let France’s king,
+              Thank the man that did the thing!”
+            What a shout, and all one word,
+              “Hervé Riel!”
+            As he stepped in front once more,
+              Not a symptom of surprise
+              In the frank blue Breton eyes,
+            Just the same man as before.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+            Then said Damfreville, “My friend,
+            I must speak out at the end,
+              Though I find the speaking hard:
+            Praise is deeper than the lips.
+            You have saved the king his ships,
+              You must name your own reward.
+            Faith, our sun was near eclipse!
+            Demand whate’er you will,
+            France remains your debtor still.
+    Ask to heart’s content, and have, or my name’s not Damfreville.”
+            Then a beam of fun outbroke
+            On the bearded mouth that spoke,
+            As the honest heart laughed through
+            Those frank eyes of Breton blue:
+              “Since I needs must say my say,
+            Since on board the duty’s done,
+    And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?
+              Since ’tis ask and have I may,
+            Since the others go ashore,--
+              Come, a good whole holiday!
+    Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!”
+    That he asked, and that he got,--nothing more.
+
+            Name and deed alike are lost;
+            Not a pillar nor a post
+    In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;
+            Not a head in white and black
+            On a single fishing-smack
+    In memory of the man but for whom had gone to rack
+    All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell.
+            Go to Paris; rank on rank
+              Search the heroes flung pell-mell
+            On the Louvre, face and flank,
+    You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel.
+            So, for better and for worse,
+            Hervé Riel, accept my verse!
+    In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more
+    Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore!
+
+
+    THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON.
+
+    The circling century has brought
+    The day on which our fathers fought
+    For liberty of deed and thought,
+        One hundred years ago!
+    We crown the day with radiant green,
+    And buds of hope to bloom between,
+    And stars undimmed, whose heavenly sheen
+        Lights all the world below.
+
+    At break of day again we hear
+    The ringing words of Paul Revere,
+    And beat of drum and bugle near,
+        And shots that shake the throne
+    Of tyranny, across the sea,
+    And wake the sons of Liberty
+    To strike for freedom and be free:--
+        _Our_ king is God alone!
+
+    “Load well with powder and with ball,
+    Stand firmly, like a living wall;
+    But fire not till the foe shall call
+        A shot from every one,”
+    Said Parker to his gallant men.
+    Then Pitcairn dashed across the plain,
+    Discharged an angry threat, and then
+        The world heard Lexington!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Militia and brave minute-men
+    Stood side by side upon the plain,
+    Unsheltered in the storm of rain,
+        Of fire, and leaden sleet;
+    But through the gray smoke and the flame,
+    Star crowned, a white-winged angel came,
+    To bear aloft the souls of flame
+        From war’s red winding-sheet!
+
+    Hancock and Adams glory won
+    With yeomen whose best work was done
+    At Concord and at Lexington,
+        When first they struck the blow.
+    Long may their children’s children bear
+    Upon wide shoulders, fit to wear,
+    The mantles that fell through the air
+        One hundred years ago!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE BRAVE AT HOME.
+
+    The maid who binds her warrior’s sash,
+      With smile that well her pain dissembles,
+    The while beneath her drooping lash
+      One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles,
+    Though heaven alone records the tear,
+      And fame shall never know the story,
+    Her heart has shed a drop as dear
+      As e’er bedewed the field of glory.
+
+    The wife who girds her husband’s sword,
+      ’Mid little ones who weep or wonder,
+    And bravely speaks the cheering word,
+      What though her heart be rent asunder,
+    Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
+      The bolts of death around him rattle,
+    Hath shed as sacred blood as e’er
+      Was poured upon a field of battle!
+
+    The mother who conceals her grief,
+      While to her breast her son she presses,
+    Then breathes a few brave words and brief,
+      Kissing the patriot brow she blesses,
+    With no one but her secret God
+      To know the pain that weighs upon her,
+    Sheds holy blood as e’er the sod
+      Received on Freedom’s field of honor!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    KANE: DIED FEBRUARY 16, 1857.
+
+    Aloft upon an old basaltic crag,
+    Which, scalped by keen winds that defend the Pole,
+    Gazes with dead face on the seas that roll
+    Around the secret of the mystic zone,
+    A mighty nation’s star-bespangled flag
+              Flutters alone;
+    And underneath, upon the lifeless front
+      Of that drear cliff, a simple name is traced,--
+    Fit type of him who, famishing and gaunt,
+      But with a rocky purpose in his soul,
+              Breasted the gathering snows,
+              Clung to the drifting floes,
+      By want beleaguered and by winter chased,
+      Seeking the brother lost amid that frozen waste.
+
+    Not many months ago we greeted him,
+      Crowned with the icy honors of the North.
+      Across the land his hard-won fame went forth,
+    And Maine’s deep woods were shaken limb by limb;
+    His own mild Keystone State, sedate and prim,
+      Burst from decorous quiet as he came;
+      Hot Southern lips, with eloquence aflame,
+    Sounded his triumph; Texas, wild and grim,
+      Proffered its horny hand; the large-lunged West,
+              From out his giant breast,
+      Yelled its frank welcome; and from main to main,
+              Jubilant to the sky,
+              Thundered the mighty cry,
+                  HONOR TO KANE!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    He needs no tears, who lived a noble life!
+      We will not weep for him who died so well,
+      But we will gather round the hearth and tell
+              The story of his strife.
+              Such homage suits him well,--
+      Better than funeral pomp or passing bell.
+
+    What tale of peril and self-sacrifice,
+    Prisoned amid the fastnesses of ice,
+    With hunger howling o’er the wastes of snow;
+    Night lengthening into months; the ravenous floe
+    Crunching the massive ships, as the white bear
+    Crunches his prey. The insufficient share
+              Of loathsome food;
+    The lethargy of famine; the despair
+      Urging to labor, nervelessly pursued;
+      Toil done with skinny arms, and faces hued
+    Like pallid masks, while dolefully behind
+    Glimmered the fading embers of a mind!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    That awful hour, when through the prostrate band
+    Delirium stalked, laying his burning hand
+    Upon the ghastly foreheads of the crew;
+    The whispers of rebellion, faint and few
+    At first, but deepening ever till they grew
+    Into black thoughts of murder: such the throng
+    Of horrors bound the hero. High the song
+    Should be that hymns the noble part he played!
+    Sinking himself, yet ministering aid
+    To all around him. By a mighty will
+    Living defiant of the wants that kill,
+      Because his death would seal his comrades’ fate;
+    Cheering, with ceaseless and inventive skill,
+      Those Polar waters, dark and desolate.
+      Equal to every trial, every fate,
+    He stands, until spring, tardy with relief,
+              Unlocks the icy gate,
+    And the pale prisoners thread the world once more,
+    To the steep cliffs of Greenland’s pastoral shore,
+              Bearing their dying chief.
+
+    Time was when he should gain his spurs of gold
+      From royal hands, who wooed the knightly state.
+    The knell of old formalities is tolled,
+      And the world’s knights are now self-consecrate.
+    No grander episode doth chivalry hold
+      In all its annals, back to Charlemagne,
+      Than that lone vigil of unceasing pain,
+    Faithfully kept through hunger and through cold,
+      By the good Christian knight, ELISHA KANE!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE LIFE-BOAT.
+
+    Launch the life-boat! Far on high
+            The fiery rockets gleam,
+    While loud and clear the booming signal gun
+    Says there is work that quickly must be done.
+    A vessel’s in distress: haste, every one,
+            Nor idly stop to dream.
+
+    Launch the life-boat! On the shore
+            The startled people stand,
+    And watch the signal lights that shine on high,
+    And through the pitchy darkness seek to spy
+    The struggling ship, or to their comrades try
+            To lend a helping hand.
+
+    Launch the life-boat! Now the moon
+            Sheds forth her silvery light,
+    And shows the boat is off; one long, loud cheer
+    Breaks from the eager crowd assembled here;
+    The dip of oars comes to the listening ear,
+            Upon the silent night.
+
+    Speed the life-boat and her crew,
+            Speed them on their watery way!
+    As joy and hope they bring to hearts cast down,
+    And waiting ’neath the storm-clouds’ dismal frown,
+    While wind and wave their trembling voices drown,
+            Waiting another day.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE RED JACKET.
+
+    ’Tis a cold, bleak night. With angry roar
+    The north winds beat and clamor at the door;
+    The drifted snow lies heaped along the street,
+    Swept by a blinding storm of hail and sleet;
+    The clouded heavens no guiding starlight lend,
+    But o’er the earth in gloom and darkness bend;
+    Gigantic shadows, by the night-lamps thrown,
+    Dance their weird revels fitfully alone.
+
+    In lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease,
+    Sunk in the treasures of all lands and seas;
+    In happy homes, where warmth and comfort meet
+    The weary traveller with their smiles to greet;
+    In lonely dwellings, where the needy swarm
+    Round starving embers, chilling limbs to warm,--
+    Rises the prayer that makes the sad heart light,
+    “Thank God for home this bitter, bitter night!”
+
+    But hark! above the beating of the storm
+    Peals on the startled ear the fire-alarm!
+    Yon gloomy heaven’s aflame with sudden light;
+    And heart-beats quicken with a strange affright.
+    From tranquil slumber springs, at duty’s call,
+    The ready friend no danger can appall;
+    Fierce for the conflict, sturdy, true, and brave,
+    He hurries forth to battle and to save.
+
+    From yonder dwelling fiercely shooting out,
+    Devouring all they coil themselves about,
+    The flaming furies, mounting high and higher,
+    Wrap the frail structure in a cloak of fire.
+    Strong arms are battling with the stubborn foe,
+    In vain attempts their power to overthrow;
+    With mocking glee they revel with their prey,
+    Defying human skill to check their way.
+
+    And see! far up above the flames’ hot breath,
+    Something that’s human waits a horrid death:
+    A little child, with waving golden hair,
+    Stands like a phantom ’mid the horrid glare,
+    Her pale, sweet face against the window pressed,
+    While sobs of terror shake her tender breast.
+    And from the crowd beneath, in accents wild,
+    A mother screams, “O God! my child, my child!”
+
+    Up goes a ladder! Through the startled throng
+    A hardy fireman swiftly moves along,
+    Mounts sure and fast along the slender way,
+    Fearing no danger, dreading but delay.
+    The stifling smoke-clouds lower in his path,
+    Sharp tongues of flame assail him in their wrath;
+    But up, still up he goes! The goal is won,
+    His strong arm beats the sash, and he is gone,--
+
+    Gone to his death. The wily flames surround,
+    And burn and beat his ladder to the ground;
+    In flaming columns move with quickened beat,
+    To rear a massive wall ’gainst his retreat.
+    Courageous heart, thy mission was so pure,
+    Suffering humanity must thy loss deplore:
+    Henceforth with martyred heroes thou shalt live,
+    Crowned with all honors nobleness can give.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Nay, not so fast! subdue these gloomy fears!
+    Behold! he quickly on the roof appears,
+    Bearing the tender child, his jacket warm
+    Flung round her shrinking form to guard from harm.
+    Up with your ladders! Quick! ’tis but a chance!
+    Behold how fast the roaring flames advance!
+    Quick! quick! brave spirits to his rescue fly!
+    Up! up! by heavens, this hero must not die!
+
+    Silence! he comes along the burning road,
+    Bearing with tender care his living load.
+    Aha! he totters! Heaven in mercy save
+    The good, true heart that can so nobly brave!
+    He’s up again, and now he’s coming fast!
+    One moment, and the fiery ordeal’s past,
+    And now he’s safe! Bold flames, ye fought in vain!
+    A happy mother clasps her child again.
+
+    “O, Heaven bless you!” ’Tis an earnest prayer
+    Which grateful thousands with that mother share.
+    Heaven bless the brave who on the war-clad field
+    Stand fast, stand firm, the nation’s trusty shield!
+    Heaven bless the brave who on the mighty sea
+    Fearless uphold the standard of the free!
+    And Heaven’s choicest blessing for the brave
+    Who fearless move our lives and homes to save!
+
+
+    OTHELLO’S STORY OF HIS LIFE.
+
+    Her father loved me; oft invited me;
+    Still questioned me the story of my life
+    From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
+    That I had past.
+    I ran it through, e’en from my boyish days,
+    To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
+    Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
+    Of moving accidents by flood and field,
+    Of hair-breadth ’scapes, in the imminent deadly breach,
+    Of being taken by the insolent foe,
+    And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
+    And with it all my travel’s history.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                                 All these to hear,
+    Would Desdemona seriously incline;
+    But still the house affairs would draw her thence,
+    Whichever as she could with haste despatch,
+    She’d come again, and with a greedy ear
+    Devour up my discourse. Which, I observing,
+    Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
+    To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
+    That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
+    Whereof, by parcels, she had something heard,
+    But not distinctly.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+                                     I did consent;
+    And often did beguile her of her tears,
+    When I did speak of some distressful stroke
+    That my youth suffered. My story being done,
+    She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.
+    She swore in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing strange;
+    ’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful;
+    She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished
+    That heaven had made her such a man.
+
+                                     She thanked me,
+    And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
+    I should but teach him how to tell my story,
+    And that would woo her. On this hint I spake;
+    She loved me for the dangers I had passed;
+    And I loved her that she did pity them:
+    This is the only witchcraft which I’ve used.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE BLACKSMITH OF RAGENBACH.
+
+    In a little German village,
+      On the waters of the Rhine,
+    Gay and joyous in their pastimes,
+      In the pleasant vintage-time,
+    Were a group of happy peasants,
+      For the day released from toil,
+    Thanking God for all his goodness
+      In the product of their soil,
+
+    When a cry rung through the welkin,
+      And appeared upon the scene
+    A panting dog, with crest erect,
+      Foaming mouth, and savage mien.
+    “He is mad!” was shrieked in chorus.
+      In dismay they all fell back,--
+    _All_ except one towering figure,--
+      ’Twas the smith of Ragenbach.
+
+    God had given this man his image;
+      Nature stamped him as complete.
+    Now it was incumbent on him
+      To perform a greater feat
+    Than Horatius at the bridge,
+      When he stood on Tiber’s bank;
+    For behind him were his townsfolk,
+      Who, appalled with terror, shrank
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    From the most appalling danger,--
+      That which makes the bravest quail,--
+    While they all were grouped together,
+      Shaking limbs and visage pale.
+    For a moment cowered the beast,
+      Snapping to the left and right,
+    While the blacksmith stood before him
+      In the power of his might.
+
+    “_One_ must die to save the many,
+      Let it then my duty be:
+    I’ve the power. Fear not, neighbors!
+      From this peril you’ll be free.”
+    As the lightning from the storm-cloud
+      Leaps to earth with sudden crash,
+    So upon the rabid monster
+      Did this man and hero dash.
+
+    In the death-grip then they struggled,
+      Man and dog, with scarce a sound,
+    Till from out the fearful conflict
+      Rose the man from off the ground,
+    Gashed and gory from the struggle;
+      But the beast lay stiff and dead.
+    There he stood, while people gathered,
+      And rained blessings on his head.
+
+    “Friends,” he said, “from one great peril,
+      With God’s help, I’ve set you free,
+    But my task is not yet ended,
+      There is danger now in _me_.
+    Yet secure from harm you shall be,
+      None need fear before I die.
+    That my sufferings may be shortened,
+      Ask of Him who rules on high.”
+
+    Then unto his forge he straightway
+      Walked erect, with rapid step,
+    While the people followed after,
+      Some with shouts, while others wept;
+    And with nerve as steady as when
+      He had plied his trade for gain,
+    He selected, without faltering,
+      From his store, the heaviest chain.
+
+    To his anvil first he bound it,
+      Next his limb he shackled fast,
+    Then he said unto his townsfolk,
+      “All your danger now is past.
+    Place within my reach, I pray you,
+      Food and water for a time,
+    Until God shall ease my sufferings
+      By his gracious will divine.”
+
+    Long he suffered, but at last
+      Came a summons from on high,
+    Then his soul, with angel escort,
+      Sought its home beyond the sky;
+    And the people of that village,
+      Those whom he had died to save,
+    Still with grateful hearts assemble,
+      And with flowers bedeck his grave.
+
+
+    MARMION AND DOUGLAS.
+
+    Not far advanced was morning day,
+    When Marmion did his troop array
+      To Surrey’s camp to ride.
+    He had safe-conduct for his band,
+    Beneath the royal seal and hand,
+      And Douglas gave a guide.
+    The ancient earl, with stately grace,
+    Would Clara on her palfrey place,
+    And whispered in an undertone,
+    “Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.”
+    The train from out the castle drew,
+    But Marmion stopped to bid adieu:
+      “Though something I might ’plain,” he said,
+    “Of cold respect to stranger guest,
+    Sent hither by your king’s behest,
+      While in Tantallon’s towers I stayed,
+    Part we in friendship from your land,
+    And, noble earl, receive my hand.”
+    But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
+    Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:
+    “My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
+    Be open, at my sovereign’s will,
+    To each one whom he lists, howe’er
+    Unmeet to be the owner’s peer;
+    My castles are my king’s alone,
+    From turret to foundation-stone,--
+    The hand of Douglas is his own,
+    And never shall in friendly grasp
+    The hand of such as Marmion clasp.”
+
+    Burned Marmion’s swarthy cheek like fire,
+    And shook his very frame for ire,
+      And--“This to me!” he said;--
+    “An ’twere not for thy hoary beard,
+    Such hand as Marmion’s had not spared
+    To cleave the Douglas’ head!
+    And first, I tell thee, haughty peer,
+    He who does England’s message here,
+    Although the meanest in her state,
+    May well, proud Angus, be thy mate!
+    And Douglas, more, I tell thee here,
+    Even in thy pitch of pride,
+    Here in thy hold, thy vassals near,
+    (Nay, never look upon your lord,
+    And lay your hands upon your sword,)
+      I tell thee, thou ’rt defied!
+    And if thou saidst I am not peer
+    To any lord in Scotland here,
+    Lowland or Highland, far or near,
+      Lord Angus, thou hast lied!”
+    On the earl’s cheek the flush of rage
+    O’ercame the ashen hue of age:
+    Fierce he broke forth, “And dar’st thou then
+    To beard the lion in his den,
+      The Douglas in his hall?
+    And hop’st thou hence unscathed to go?
+    No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no!
+    Up drawbridge, grooms! What, warder, ho!
+      Let the portcullis fall.”
+    Lord Marmion turned,--well was his need!--
+    And dashed the rowels in his steed,
+    Like arrow through the archway sprung;
+    The ponderous grate behind him rung:
+    To pass there was such scanty room,
+    The bars, descending, razed his plume.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    The steed along the drawbridge flies,
+    Just as it trembled on the rise;
+    Not lighter does the swallow skim
+    Along the smooth lake’s level brim;
+    And when Lord Marmion reached his band,
+    He halts, and turns with clinched hand,
+    And shout of loud defiance pours,
+    And shook his gauntlet at the towers.
+    “Horse! horse!” the Douglas cried, “and chase!”
+    But soon he reigned his fury’s pace:
+    “A royal messenger he came,
+    Though most unworthy of the name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    St. Mary mend my fiery mood!
+    Old age ne’er cools the Douglas blood,
+    I thought to slay him where he stood.
+    ’Tis pity of him, too,” he cried;
+    “Bold can he speak and fairly ride,
+    I warrant him a warrior tried.”
+    With this his mandate he recalls,
+    And slowly seeks his castle walls.
+
+
+    THE LOSS OF THE HORNET.
+
+    Call the watch! call the watch!
+      “Ho! the starboard watch, ahoy!” Have you heard
+    How a noble ship so trim, like our own, my hearties, here,
+    All scudding ’fore the gale, disappeared,
+      Where yon southern billows roll o’er their bed so green and clear?
+    Hold the reel! keep her full! hold the reel!
+      How she flew athwart the spray, as, shipmates, we do now,
+    Till her twice a hundred fearless hearts of steel
+      Felt the whirlwind lift its waters aft, and plunge her
+          downward bow!
+                      Bear a hand!
+
+    Strike top-gallants! mind your helm! jump aloft!
+      ’Twas such a night as this, my lads, a rakish bark was drowned,
+    When demons foul, that whisper seamen oft,
+      Scooped a tomb amid the flashing surge that never shall be found.
+    Square the yards! a double reef! Hark the blast!
+      O, fiercely has it fallen on the war-ship of the brave,
+    When its tempest fury stretched the stately mast
+      All along her foamy sides, as they shouted on the wave,
+                      “Bear a hand!”
+
+    Call the watch! call the watch!
+      “Ho! the larboard watch, ahoy!” Have you heard
+    How a vessel, gay and taut, on the mountains of the sea,
+      Went below, with all her warlike crew on board,
+    They who battled for the happy, boys, and perished for the free?
+      Clew, clew up, fore and aft! keep away!
+    How the vulture bird of death, in its black and viewless form,
+      Hovered sure o’er the clamors of his prey,
+    While through all their dripping shrouds yelled the spirit of
+          the storm!
+                      Bear a hand!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Now out reefs! brace the yards! lively there!
+      O, no more to homeward breeze shall her swelling bosom spread,
+    But love’s expectant eye bid despair
+      Set her raven watch eternal o’er the wreck in ocean’s bed.
+    Board your tacks! cheerly, boys! But for them,
+      Their last evening gun is fired, their gales are overblown;
+    O’er their smoking deck no starry flag shall stream;
+      They’ll sail no more, they’ll fight no more, for their gallant
+          ship’s gone down.
+                      Bear a hand!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    MAN THE LIFE-BOAT.
+
+    Man the life-boat! Man the life-boat!
+      Help, or yon ship is lost!
+    Man the life-boat! Man the life-boat!
+      See how she’s tempest-tossed.
+    No human power in such an hour
+      The gallant bark can save;
+    Her mainmast gone, and running on,
+      She seeks her watery grave.
+    Man the life-boat! Man the life-boat!
+      See, the dreaded signal flies!
+    Ha! she’s struck, and from the wreck
+      Despairing shouts arise.
+
+    O, speed the life-boat! Speed the life-boat!
+      O God, their efforts crown!
+    She dashes on; the ship is gone,
+      Full forty fathoms down.
+    And see, the crew are struggling now
+      Amidst the tempest roar.
+    They’re in the boat, they’re all afloat,--
+      Hurrah! they’ve gained the shore.
+    Bless the life-boat! Bless the life-boat!
+      O God, thou’lt hear our prayer!
+    Bless the life-boat! Bless the life-boat!
+      No longer we’ll despair.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    SIR GALAHAD.
+
+    My good blade carves the casques of men,
+      My tough lance thrusteth sure,
+    My strength is as the strength of ten,
+      Because my heart is pure.
+    The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
+      The hard brands shiver on the steel,
+    The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly,
+      The horse and rider reel:
+    They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
+      And when the tide of combat stands,
+    Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
+      That lightly rain from ladies’ hands.
+
+    How sweet are looks that ladies bend
+      On whom their favors fall!
+    For them I battle till the end,
+      To save from shame and thrall:
+    But all my heart is drawn above,
+      My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine:
+    I never felt the kiss of love,
+      Nor maiden’s hand in mine.
+    More bounteous aspects on me beam,
+      Me mightier transports move and thrill;
+    So keep I fair through faith and prayer
+      A virgin heart in work and will.
+
+    When down the stormy crescent goes,
+      A light before me swims,
+    Between dark stems the forest glows,
+      I hear a noise of hymns:
+    Then by some secret shrine I ride;
+      I hear a voice, but none are there;
+    The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
+      The tapers burning fair.
+    Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
+      The silver vessels sparkle clean,
+    The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
+      And solemn chants resound between.
+
+    Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
+      I find a magic bark;
+    I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
+      I float till all is dark.
+    A gentle sound, an awful light!
+      Three angels bear the holy Grail:
+    With folded feet, in stoles of white,
+      On sleeping wings they sail.
+    Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
+      My spirit beats her mortal bars,
+    As down dark tides the glory slides,
+      And star-like mingles with the stars.
+
+    When on my goodly charger borne
+      Through dreaming towns I go,
+    The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
+      The streets are dumb with snow.
+    The tempest crackles on the leads,
+      And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
+    But o’er the dark a glory spreads,
+      And gilds the driving hail.
+    I leave the plain, I climb the height;
+      No branchy thicket shelter yields;
+    But blessed forms in whistling storms
+      Fly o’er waste fens and windy fields.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    A maiden knight, to me is given
+      Such hope, I know not fear;
+    I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
+      That often meet me here.
+    I muse on joy that will not cease,
+      Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
+    Pure lilies of eternal peace,
+      Whose odors haunt my dreams;
+    And, stricken by an angel’s hand,
+      This mortal armor that I wear,
+    This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
+      Are touched, are turned to finest air.
+
+    The clouds are broken in the sky,
+      And through the mountain-walls
+    A rolling organ-harmony
+      Swells up, and shakes and falls.
+    Then move the trees, the copses nod,
+      Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
+    “O just and faithful knight of God,
+      Ride on! the prize is near.”
+    So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
+      By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
+    All armed I ride, whate’er betide,
+      Until I find the holy Grail.
+
+
+    KING CANUTE AND HIS NOBLES.
+
+    Canute was by his nobles taught to fancy
+    That, by a kind of royal necromancy,
+      He had the power old Ocean to control.
+    Down rushed the royal Dane upon the strand,
+      And issued, like a Solomon, command,--poor soul!
+
+    “Go back, ye waves, you blustering rogues,” quoth he;
+    “Touch not your lord and master, Sea;
+      For by my power almighty, if you do--”
+    Then, staring vengeance, out he held a stick,
+    Vowing to drive old Ocean to Old Nick,
+      Should he even wet the latchet of his shoe.
+
+    The sea retired,--the monarch fierce rushed on,
+      And looked as if he’d drive him from the land;
+    But Sea, not caring to be put upon,
+      Made for a moment a bold stand.
+
+    Not only made a stand did Mr. Ocean,
+    But to his waves he made a motion,
+      And bid them give the king a hearty trimming.
+    The order seemed a deal the waves to tickle,
+    For soon they put his Majesty in pickle,
+      And set his royalties, like geese, a swimming.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    All hands aloft, with one tremendous roar,
+    Sound did they make him wish himself on shore;
+      His head and ears they most handsomely doused,--
+    Just like a porpoise, with one general shout,
+    The waves so tumbled the poor king about.
+      No anabaptist e’er was half so soused.
+
+    At length to land he crawled, a half-drowned thing,
+    Indeed, more like a crab than like a king,
+      And found his courtiers making rueful faces;
+    But what said Canute to the lords and gentry,
+    Who hailed him from the water, on his entry,
+      All trembling for their lives or places?
+
+    “My lords and gentlemen, by your advice,
+      I’ve had with Mr. Sea a pretty bustle;
+    My treatment from my foe, not overnice,
+      Just made a jest for every shrimp and mussel.
+
+    “A pretty trick for one of my dominion!
+    My lords, I thank you for your great opinion.
+    You’ll tell me, p’r’aps, I’ve only lost one game
+      And bid me try another,--for the rubber.
+    Permit me to inform you all, with shame,
+      That you’re a set of knaves and I’m a lubber.”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    OUTWARD BOUND.
+
+    Clink--clink--clink! goes our windlass.
+      “Ahoy!” “Haul in!” “Let go!”
+    Yards braced and sails set,
+      Flags uncurl and flow.
+    Some eyes that watch from shore are wet,
+      (How bright their welcome shone!)
+    While, bending softly to the breeze,
+    And rushing through the parted seas,
+      Our gallant ship glides on.
+    Though one has left a sweetheart,
+      And one has left a wife,
+    ’Twill never do to mope and fret,
+      Or curse a sailor’s life.
+    See, far away they signal yet,--
+      They dwindle--fade--they’re gone:
+    For, dashing outwards, bold and brave,
+    And springing light from wave to wave,
+      Our merry ship flies on.
+    Gay spreads the sparkling ocean;
+      But many a gloomy night
+    And stormy morrow must be met
+      Ere next we heave in sight.
+    The parting look we’ll ne’er forget,
+      The kiss, the benison,
+    As round the rolling world we go.
+    God bless you all! Blow, breezes blow!
+      Sail on, good ship, sail on!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE BRIDES OF VENICE.
+
+    It was St. Mary’s eve; and all poured forth,
+    As to some grand solemnity. The fisher
+    Came from his islet, bringing o’er the waves
+    His wife and little one; the husbandman
+    From the Firm Land, along the Po, the Brenta,
+    Crowding the common ferry. All arrived;
+    And in his straw the prisoner turned and listened,
+    So great the stir in Venice. Old and young
+    Thronged her three hundred bridges; the grave Turk,
+    Turbaned, long-vested, and the cozening Jew,
+    In yellow hat and threadbare gabardine,
+    Hurrying along. For, as the custom was,
+    The noblest sons and daughters of the state,
+    They of patrician birth, the flower of Venice,
+    Whose names are written in the “Book of Gold,”
+    Were on that day to solemnize their nuptials.
+      At noon, a distant murmur through the crowd,
+    Rising and rolling on, announced their coming;
+    And never from the first was to be seen
+    Such splendor or such beauty. Two and two
+    (The richest tapestry unrolled before them),
+    First came the brides in all their loveliness;
+    Each in her veil, and by two bridemaids followed.
+    Only less lovely, who behind her bore
+    The precious caskets that within contained
+    The dowry and the presents. On she moved,
+    Her eyes cast down, and holding in her hand
+    A fan, that gently waved, of ostrich feathers.
+    Her veil, transparent as the gossamer,
+    Fell from beneath a starry diadem;
+    And on her dazzling neck a jewel shone,
+    Ruby or diamond or dark amethyst;
+    A jewelled chain, in many a winding wreath,
+    Wreathing her gold brocade.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+                              Before the church,
+    That venerable pile on the sea-brink,
+    Another train they met,--no strangers to them,--
+    Brothers to some, and to the rest still dearer,
+    Each in his hand bearing his cap and plume,
+    And, as he walked, with modest dignity
+    Folding his scarlet mantle, his _tabarro._
+      They join, they enter in, and up the aisle
+    Led by the full-voiced choir, in bright procession,
+    Range round the altar. In his vestments there
+    The patriarch stands; and while the anthem flows,
+    Who can look on unmoved? Mothers in secret
+    Rejoicing in the beauty of their daughters;
+    Sons in the thought of making them their own;
+    And they, arrayed in youth and innocence,
+    Their beauty heightened by their hopes and fears.
+      At length the rite is ending. All fall down
+    In earnest prayer, all of all ranks together;
+    And stretching out his hands, the holy man
+    Proceeds to give the general benediction,
+    When hark! a din of voices from without,
+    And shrieks and groans and outcries, as in battle;
+    And lo! the door is burst, the curtain rent,
+    And armed ruffians, robbers from the deep,
+    Savage, uncouth, led on by Barbarigo
+    And his six brothers in their coats of steel,
+    Are standing on the threshold! Statue-like,
+    Awhile they gaze on the fallen multitude,
+    Each with his sabre up, in act to strike;
+    Then, as at once recovering from the spell,
+    Rush forward to the altar, and as soon
+    Are gone again, amid no clash of arms,
+    Bearing away the maidens and the treasures.
+      Where are they now? Ploughing the distant waves,
+    Their sails all set, and they upon the deck
+    Standing triumphant. To the east they go,
+    Steering for Istria, their accursed barks
+    (Well are they known, the galliot and the galley)
+    Freighted with all that gives to life its value
+    The richest argosies were poor to them!
+      Now might you see the matrons running wild
+    Along the beach; the men half armed and arming;
+    One with a shield, one with a casque and spear;
+    One with an axe, hewing the mooring-chain
+    Of some old pinnace. Not a raft, a plank,
+    But on that day was drifting. In an hour
+    Half Venice was afloat. But long before,--
+    Frantic with grief, and scorning all control,--
+    The youths were gone in a light brigantine,
+    Lying at anchor near the arsenal;
+    Each having sworn, and by the holy rood,
+    To slay or to be slain.
+                           And from the tower
+    The watchman gives the signal. In the east
+    A ship is seen, and making for the port;
+    Her flag St. Mark’s. And now she turns the point,
+    Over the waters like a sea-bird flying.
+    Ha! ’tis the same, ’tis theirs! From stern to prow
+    Hung with green boughs, she comes, she comes, restoring
+    All that was lost!
+                     Coasting, with narrow search.
+    Friuli, like a tiger in his spring,
+    They had surprised the corsairs where they lay,
+    Sharing the spoil in blind security,
+    And casting lots; had slain them one and all,--
+    All to the last,--and flung them far and wide
+    Into the sea, their proper element.
+    Him first, as first in rank, whose name so long
+    Had hushed the babes of Venice, and who yet
+    Breathing a little, in his look retained
+    The fierceness of his soul.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+                              Thus were the brides
+    Lost and recovered. And what now remained
+    But to give thanks? Twelve breastplates and twelve crowns,
+    Flaming with gems and gold, the votive offerings
+    Of the young victors to their patron saint,
+    Vowed on the field of battle, were erelong
+    Laid at his feet; and to preserve forever
+    The memory of a day so full of change,
+    From joy to grief, from grief to joy again,
+    Through many an age, as oft as it came round,
+    ’Twas held religiously with all observance.
+    The Doge resigned his crimson for pure ermine;
+    And through the city in a stately barge
+    Of gold were borne, with songs and symphonies,
+    Twelve ladies young and noble. Clad they were
+    In bridal white with bridal ornaments,
+    Each in her glittering veil; and on the deck
+    As on a burnished throne, they glided by.
+    No window or balcony but adorned
+    With hangings of rich texture; not a roof
+    But covered with beholders, and the air
+    Vocal with joy. Onward they went, their oars
+    Moving in concert with the harmony,
+    Through the Rialto to the ducal palace;
+    And at a banquet there, served with due honor,
+    Sat, representing in the eyes of all--
+    Eyes not unwet, I ween, with grateful tears--
+    Their lovely ancestors, the “Brides of Venice.”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
+
+    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 water o’er,
+    When a band of exiles moored their bark
+      On the wild New England shore.
+
+    Not as the conqueror comes,
+      They, the true-hearted, came;
+    Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
+      And the trumpet that sings of fame;
+
+    Not as the flying come,
+      In silence and in fear;
+    They shook the depths of the desert gloom
+      With their hymns of lofty cheer.
+
+    Amidst the storm they sang,
+      And the stars heard, and the sea;
+    And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
+      To the anthem of the free!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    The ocean eagle soared
+      From his nest by the white wave’s foam,
+    And the rocking pines of the forest roared,--
+      This was their welcome home.
+
+    There were men with hoary hair
+      Amidst that pilgrim band:
+    Why had they come to wither there,
+      Away from their childhood’s land?
+
+    There was woman’s fearless eye,
+      Lit by her deep love’s truth;
+    There was manhood’s brow, serenely high,
+      And the fiery heart of youth.
+
+    What sought they thus afar?
+      Bright jewels of the mine,
+    The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
+      They sought a faith’s pure shrine!
+
+    Aye, call it holy ground,
+      The soil where first they trod;
+    They have left unstained what there they found,--
+      Freedom to worship God.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY.
+
+    Alas! The days of chivalry are fled,
+      The brilliant tournament exists no more;
+    Our loves are cold, and dull as ice or lead,
+      And courting is a most enormous bore.
+
+    In those good “olden times,” a “ladye bright”
+      Might sit within her turret or her bower,
+    While lovers sang and played without all night,
+      And deemed themselves rewarded by a flower.
+
+    Yet if one favored swain would persevere,
+      In despite of her haughty scorn and laugh,
+    Perchance she threw him, with the closing year,
+      An old odd glove, or else a worn-out scarf.
+
+    Off then, away he’d ride o’er sea and land,
+      And dragons fell and mighty giants smite
+    With the tough spear he carried in his hand;
+      And all to prove himself her own true knight.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Meanwhile a thousand more, as wild as he,
+      Were all employed upon the self-same thing;
+    And when each had rode hard for his “ladye,”
+      They all come back and met within a ring.
+
+    Where all the men who were entitled “syr”
+      Appeared with martial air and haughty frown,
+    Bearing “long poles, each other up to stir,”
+      And, in the stir-up, thrust each other down.
+
+    And then they galloped round with dire intent,
+      Each knight resolved another’s pride to humble;
+    And laughter rang around the tournament
+      As oft as any of them had a tumble.
+
+    And when, perchance, some ill-starred wight might die,
+      The victim of a stout, unlucky poke,
+    Mayhap some fair one wiped one beauteous eye,
+      The rest smiled calmly on the deadly joke.
+
+    Soon, then, the lady, whose grim, stalwart swain
+      Had got the strongest horse and toughest pole,
+    Bedecked him, kneeling, with a golden chain,
+      And plighted troth before the motley whole.
+
+    Alas! the days of chivalry are fled,
+      The brilliant tournament exists no more.
+    Men now are cold and dull as ice or lead,
+      And even courtship is a dreadful bore.
+
+
+    THE SONG OF THE CAMP.
+
+    “Give us a song!” the soldiers cried,
+      The outer trenches guarding,
+    When the heated guns of the camps allied
+      Grew weary of bombarding.
+
+    The dark Redan, in silent scoff,
+      Lay grim and threatening under;
+    And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
+      No longer belched its thunder.
+
+    There was a pause. A guardsman said,
+      “We storm the forts to-morrow;
+    Sing while we may, another day
+      Will bring enough of sorrow.”
+
+    They lay along the battery’s side,
+      Below the smoking cannon,
+    Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde,
+      And from the banks of Shannon.
+
+    They sang of love, and not of fame;
+      Forgot was Britain’s glory:
+    Each heart recalled a different name,
+      But all sang “Annie Lawrie.”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Voice after voice caught up the song,
+      Until its tender passion
+    Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,--
+      Their battle-eve confession.
+
+    Beyond the darkening ocean burned
+      The bloody sunset’s embers,
+    While the Crimean valleys learned
+      How English love remembers.
+
+    And once again a fire of hell
+      Rained on the Russian quarters,
+    With scream of shot and burst of shell
+      And bellowing of the mortars!
+
+    And Irish Nora’s eyes are dim
+      For a singer dumb and gory;
+    And English Mary mourns for him
+      Who sang of “Annie Lawrie.”
+
+    Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest
+      Your truth and valor wearing.
+    The bravest are the tenderest,
+      The loving are the daring.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE RECANTATION OF GALILEO.
+
+    Far ’neath the glorious light of the noontide,
+      In a damp dungeon a prisoner lay,
+    Aged and feeble, his failing years numbered,
+      Waiting the fate to be brought him that day.
+
+    Silence, oppressive with darkness, held durance;
+      Death in the living, or living in death;
+    Crouched on the granite, and burdened with fetters,
+      Inhaling slow poison with each labored breath.
+
+    O’er the damp floor of his dungeon there glistened
+      Faintly the rays of a swift-nearing light;
+    Then the sweet jingle of keys, that soon opened
+      The door, and revealed a strange scene to his sight.
+
+    In the red glare of the flickering torches,
+      Held by the gray-gowned soldiers of God,
+    Gathered a group that the world will remember
+      Long ages after we sleep ’neath the sod.
+
+    Draped in their robes of bright scarlet and purple,
+      Bearing aloft the gold emblems of Rome,
+    Stood the chief priests of the papal dominion,
+      Under the shadow of Peter’s proud dome,
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    By the infallible pontiff commanded,
+      From his own lips their directions received;
+    Sent to demand of the wise Galileo
+      Denial of all the great truths he believed,--
+
+    Before the whole world to give up his convictions,
+      Because the great church said the world had not moved;
+    Then to swear, before God, that his science was idle,
+      And truth was unknown to the facts he had proved.
+
+    So, loosing his shackles, they bade the sage listen
+      To words from the mouth of the vicar of God:
+    “Recant thy vile doctrines, and life we will give thee:
+      Adhere, and thy road to the grave is soon trod!”
+
+    His doctrines--the truth, as proud Rome has acknowledged--
+      On low, bended knee, in that vault he renounced;
+    Yet with joy in their eyes, the high-priests retiring,
+      “Confinement for life,” as his sentence pronounced.
+
+    But as they left him, their malice rekindled
+      Fires that their threats had subdued in his breast:
+    Clanking his chains, with fierce ardor he muttered,
+      “But it _does_ move, and tyrants can ne’er make it rest.”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    BELSHAZZAR.
+
+    The midnight hour was drawing on;
+    Flushed in repose lay Babylon;
+    But in the palace of the king
+    The herd of courtiers shout and sing.
+    There, in his royal banquet hall,
+    Belshazzar holds high festival.
+
+    The servants sit in glittering rows,
+    The beakers are drained, the red wine flows;
+    The beakers clash and the servants sing,--
+    A pleasing sound to the moody king.
+    The king’s cheeks flush and his wild eyes shine,
+    His spirit waxes bold with wine,
+    Until, by maddening passion stung,
+    He scoffs at God with impious tongue;
+    And his proud heart swells as he wildly raves,
+    ’Mid shouts of applause from his fawning slaves.
+    He spoke the word, and his eyes flashed flame!
+    The ready servants went and came;
+    Vessels of massive gold they bore,
+    Of Jehovah’s temple the plundered store.
+
+    Then seizing a consecrated cup,
+    The king in his fury fills it up;
+    He fills, and hastily drains it dry;
+    From his foaming lips leaps forth the cry,
+    “Jehovah, at Thee my scorn I fling!
+    I am Belshazzar, Babylon’s king.”
+    Yet scarce had the impious words been said,
+    When the king’s heart shrank with secret dread;
+    Suddenly died the shout and yell,
+    A deathlike hush on the tumult fell.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    And see! and see! on the white wall high
+    The form of a hand went slowly by,
+    And wrote--and wrote in sight of all
+    Letters of fire upon the wall!
+    The king sat still, with a stony look,
+    His trembling knees with terror shook;
+    The menial throng nor spoke nor stirred;
+    Fear froze the blood,--no sound was heard.
+
+    The magicians came, but none of all
+    Could read the writing on the wall.
+    At length to solve those words of flame,
+    Fearless, but meek, the prophet came.
+    One glance he gave, and all was clear.
+    “King! there is reason in thy fear.
+    Those words proclaim, thy empire ends,
+    The day of woe and wrath impends.
+    Weighed in the balance, wanting found,
+    Thou and thy empire strike the ground!”
+
+    That night, by the servants of his train,
+    Belshazzar, the mighty king, was slain!
+
+
+    LIBERTY.
+
+    With what pride I used
+    To walk these hills, and look up to my God,
+    And bless him that it was so! I loved
+    Its very storms. I have sat
+    In my boat at night when, midway o’er the lake,
+    The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge
+    The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed
+    The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled
+    To see him shake his lightnings o’er my head,
+    And think I had no master save his own.
+    You know the jutting cliff round which a track
+    Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow
+    To such another one, with scanty room
+    For two abreast to pass? O’ertaken there
+    By the mountain blast, I’ve laid me flat along,
+    And while gust followed gust more furiously,
+    As if to sweep me o’er the horrid brink,
+    And I have thought of other lands, whose storms
+    Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just
+    Have wished me there--the thought that mine was free
+    Has checked that wish; and I have raised my head,
+    And cried in thraldrom to that furious wind,
+    Blow on! This is the land of liberty!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE FISHERMEN.
+
+    Hurrah! the seaward breezes
+      Sweep down the bay amain.
+    Heave up, my lads, the anchor!
+      Run up the sail again!
+    Leave to the lubber landsmen
+      The rail-car and the steed;
+    The stars of heaven shall guide us,
+      The breath of heaven shall speed.
+
+    From the hill-top looks the steeple,
+      And the lighthouse from the sand;
+    And the scattered pines are waving
+      Their farewell from the land.
+    One glance, my lads, behind us,
+      For the homes we leave one sigh,
+    Ere we take the change and chances
+      Of the ocean and the sky.
+
+    Now, brothers, for the icebergs
+      Of frozen Labrador,
+    Floating spectral in the moonshine,
+      Along the low, black shore!
+    Where like snow the gannet’s feathers
+      On Brador’s rocks are shed,
+    And the noisy murr are flying,
+      Like black scuds, overhead;
+
+    Where in mist the rock is hiding,
+      And the sharp reef lurks below,
+    And the white squall smites in summer,
+      And the autumn tempests blow;
+    Where, through gray and rolling vapor,
+      From evening unto morn,
+    A thousand boats are hailing,
+      Horn answering unto horn.
+
+    Hurrah for the Red Island,
+      With the white cross on its crown!
+    Hurrah for Meccatina,
+      And its mountains bare and brown!
+    Where the caribou’s tall antlers
+      O’er the dwarf-wood freely toss,
+    And the footstep of the mickmack
+      Has no sound upon the moss.
+
+    There we’ll drop our lines, and gather
+      Old Ocean’s treasures in,
+    Where’er the mottled mackerel
+      Turns up a steel-dark fin.
+    The sea’s our field of harvest,
+      Its scaly tribes our grain;
+    We’ll reap the teeming waters
+      As at home they reap the plain!
+
+    Our wet hands spread the carpet,
+      And light the hearth of home;
+    From our fish, as in the old time,
+      The silver coin shall come.
+    As the demon fled the chamber
+      Where the fish of Tobit lay,
+    So ours from all our dwellings
+      Shall frighten Want away.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Though the mist upon our jackets
+      In the bitter air congeals,
+    And our lines wind stiff and slowly
+      From off the frozen reels,
+    Though the fog be dark around us,
+      And the storm blow high and loud,
+    We will whistle down the wild wind,
+      And laugh beneath the cloud!
+
+    In the darkness as in daylight,
+      On the water as on land,
+    God’s eye is looking on us,
+      And beneath us is his hand!
+    Death will find us soon or later,
+      On the deck or in the cot;
+    And we cannot meet him better
+      Than in working out our lot.
+
+    Hurrah! hurrah! The west wind
+      Comes freshening down the bay,
+    The rising sails are filling,--
+      Give way, my lads, give way!
+    Leave the coward landsman clinging
+      To the dull earth, like a weed.
+    The stars of heaven shall guide us,
+      The breath of heaven shall speed!
+
+
+    EXCELSIOR.
+
+    The shades of night were falling fast,
+    As through an Alpine village passed
+    A youth, who bore, ’mid snow and ice,
+    A banner, with the strange device,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    His brow was sad; his eye, beneath,
+    Flashed like a falchion from its sheath;
+    And like a silver clarion rung
+    The accents of that unknown tongue,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    In happy homes he saw the light
+    Of household fires gleam warm and bright.
+    Above, the spectral glaciers shone;
+    And from his lips escaped a groan,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    “Try not the pass!” the old man said;
+    “Dark lowers the tempest overhead!
+    The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”
+    And loud that clarion voice replied,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    “Oh! stay,” the maiden said, “and rest
+    Thy weary head upon this breast!”
+    A tear stood in his bright blue eye;
+    But still he answered, with a sigh,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    “Beware the pine-tree’s withered branch!
+    Beware the awful avalanche!”
+    This was the peasant’s last good-night.
+    A voice replied, far up the height,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    At break of day, as heavenward
+    The pious monks of St. Bernard
+    Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
+    A voice cried, through the startled air,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    A traveller by the faithful hound,
+    Half buried in the snow, was found,
+    Still grasping in his hand of ice
+    The banner with the strange device,
+                Excelsior!
+
+    There, in the twilight cold and gray,
+    Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay;
+    And from the sky, serene and far,
+    A voice fell, like a falling star,--
+                Excelsior!
+
+
+    THE SOLDIER.
+
+    For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
+      The farmer ploughs the manor;
+    But glory is the soldier’s prize,
+      The soldier’s wealth is honor.
+    The brave poor soldier ne’er despise;
+      Nor count him as a stranger;
+    Remember, he’s his country’s stay
+      In day and hour o’ danger.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    JOHN MAYNARD.
+
+    ’Twas on Lake Erie’s broad expanse,
+      One bright midsummer day,
+    The gallant steamer, Ocean Queen,
+      Swept proudly on her way.
+    Bright faces clustered on the deck,
+      Or, leaning o’er the side,
+    Watched carelessly the feathery foam
+      That flecked the rippling tide.
+
+    A seaman sought the captain’s side,
+      A moment whispered low:
+    The captain’s swarthy face grew pale;
+      He hurried down below.
+    Alas, too late! Though quick and sharp
+      And clear his orders came,
+    No human efforts could avail
+      To quench th’ insidious flame.
+
+    The bad news quickly reached the deck,
+      It sped from lip to lip,
+    And ghastly faces everywhere
+      Looked from the doomed ship.
+    “Is there no hope, no chance of life?”
+      A hundred lips implore.
+    “But one,” the captain made reply;
+      “To run the ship on shore.”
+
+    A sailor whose heroic soul
+      That hour should yet reveal,
+    By name John Maynard, Eastern born,
+      Stood calmly at the wheel.
+    “Head her southeast!” the captain shouts,
+      Above the smothered roar,--
+    “Head her southeast without delay!
+      Make for the nearest shore!”
+
+    John Maynard watched the nearing flames,
+      But still, with steady hand,
+    He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly
+      He steered the ship to land.
+    “John Maynard, can you still hold out?”
+      He heard the captain cry.
+    A voice from out the stifling smoke
+      Faintly responds, “Ay, ay!”
+
+    But half a mile! A hundred hands
+      Stretch eagerly to shore.
+    But half a mile! That distance sped,
+      Peril shall all be o’er.
+    But half a mile! Yet stay! The flames
+      No longer slowly creep,
+    But gather round the helmsman bold
+      With fierce, impetuous sweep.
+
+    “John Maynard,” with an anxious voice,
+      The captain cries once more,
+    “Stand by the wheel five minutes yet,
+      And we will reach the shore.”
+    Through flames and smoke that dauntless heart
+      Responded firmly still,
+    Unawed, though face to face with death,
+      “With God’s good help, I will!”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    The flames approach with giant strides,
+      They scorch his hands and brow;
+    One arm disabled seeks his side:
+      Ah, he is conquered now!
+    But no; his teeth are firmly set,
+      He crushes down his pain;
+    His knee upon the stanchion pressed,
+      He guides the ship again.
+
+    One moment yet, one moment yet!
+      Brave heart, thy task is o’er!
+    The pebbles grate beneath the keel,
+      The steamer touches shore.
+    Three hundred grateful voices rise
+      In praise to God, that He
+    Hath saved them from the fearful fire
+      And from th’ ingulfing sea.
+
+    But where is he, that helmsman bold?
+      The captain saw him reel;
+    His nerveless hands released their task,
+      He sank beside the wheel.
+    The wave received his lifeless corpse,
+      Blackened with smoke and fire.
+    God rest him! Never hero had
+      A nobler funeral pyre.
+
+
+    EXCALIBUR.
+
+    Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:
+    “The sequel of to-day unsolders all
+    The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
+    Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep
+    They sleep,--the men I loved. I think that we
+    Shall never more, at any future time,
+    Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,
+    Walking about the gardens and the halls
+    Of Camelot, as in the days that were.
+    I perish by this people which I made,--
+    Though Merlin swear that I should come again
+    To rule once more; but let what will be, be:
+    I am so deeply smitten through the helm
+    That without help I cannot last till morn.
+    Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,
+    Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how
+    In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
+    Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
+    Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
+    Holding the sword; and how I rowed across
+    And took it, and have worn it, like a king:
+    And, wheresoever I am sung or told
+    In after-time, this also shall be known:
+    But now delay not: take Excalibur,
+    And fling him far into the middle mere.
+    Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word.”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran,
+    And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged
+    Among the bulrush beds, and clutched the sword,
+    And strongly wheeled and threw it. The great brand
+    Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon,
+    And flashing round and round, and whirled in an arch,
+    Shot like a streamer of the northern morn,
+    Seen where the moving isles of winter shock
+    By night, with noises of the northern sea.
+    So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur:
+    But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm
+    Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
+    And caught him by the hilt, and brandished him
+    Three times, and drew him under in the mere.
+    And lightly went the other to the king.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE DEATH OF ARTHUR.
+
+    Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge,
+    Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern,
+    Beneath them; and descending they were ware
+    That all the decks were dense with stately forms
+    Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream; by these
+    Three Queens with crowns of gold, and from them rose
+    A cry that shivered to the tingling stars,
+    And, as it were one voice, an agony
+    Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills
+    All night in a waste land, where no one comes,
+    Or hath come since the making of the world.
+
+    Then murmured Arthur, “Place me in the barge.”
+    So to the barge they came. There those three Queens
+    Put forth their hands, and took the king, and wept.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
+    “The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
+    And God fulfils himself in many ways,
+    Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
+    Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
+    I have lived my life, and that which I have done
+    May He within himself make pure! but thou,
+    If thou shouldst never see my face again,
+    Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
+    Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
+    Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
+    For what are men better than sheep or goats
+    That nourish a blind life within the brain,
+    If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
+    Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
+    For so the whole round earth is every way
+    Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
+    But now farewell. I am going a long way
+    With these thou seest--if indeed I go--
+    (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)
+    To the island-valley of Avilion,
+    Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
+    Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
+    Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns
+    And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,
+    Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.”
+
+    So said he, and the barge with oar and sail
+    Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan
+    That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
+    Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
+    With swarthy webs.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.
+
+    A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
+      A wind that follows fast,
+    And fills the white and rustling sail,
+      And bends the gallant mast.
+    And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
+      While, like the eagle free,
+    Away the good ship flies, and leaves
+      Old England on the lee.
+
+    O, for a soft and gentle wind!
+      I heard a fair one cry;
+    But give to me the swelling breeze,
+      And white waves heaving high.
+    The white waves heaving high, my lads,
+      The good ship tight and free,--
+    The world of waters is our home,
+      And merry men are we.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE LEAP OF CURTIUS.
+
+    Within Rome’s forum, suddenly, a wide gap opened in a night,
+    Astounding those who gazed on it,--a strange, terrific sight.
+    In Senate all their sages met, and, seated in their chairs of state,
+    Their faces blanched with deadly fear, debated long and late.
+
+    A sign inimical to Rome, they deemed it,--a prognostic dire,
+    A visitation from the gods, in token of their ire.
+    Yet how to have their minds resolved, how ascertain in this
+          their need,
+    Beyond the shadow of a doubt, if thus it were indeed?
+
+    In silence brooded they awhile, unbroken by a single word,
+    While from the capital without the lightest sounds were heard.
+    Then rose the eldest magistrate, a tall old man, with locks
+          like snow,
+    Straight as a dart, and with an eye that oft had quelled the foe.
+
+    And thus, with ripe, sonorous voice, no note or tone of which
+          did shake,
+    Or indicate the wear of time, the aged Nestor spake:
+    “Fathers, the Oracle is nigh: to it then let us promptly send,
+    And at the shrine inquire what this dread marvel doth portend.
+
+    “And if to Rome it augurs ill, then ask we, ere it be too late,
+    How we may best avert the doom, and save the sacred state.--
+    That state to every Roman dear, as dear as brother, friend, or wife,
+    For which each true-born son would give, if needful, even life.
+
+    “For what, O fathers! what were life apart from altar, hearth,
+          and home?
+    Yea, is not all our highest good bound up with that of Rome?
+    And now adjourn we for a space, till three full days have
+          circled round,
+    And on the morning of the fourth, let each one here be found.”
+
+    Then gat they up, and gloomily for such short interval did part,
+    For they were Romans stanch and tried, and sad was every heart.
+    The fourth day dawned, and when they met, the Oracle’s response
+          was known:
+    Something most precious in the chasm to close it must be thrown.
+
+    But if _un_closed it shall remain, thereon shall follow
+          Rome’s decay,
+    And all the splendor of her state shall pale and pass away.
+    Something most precious! What the gift that may prevent the
+          pending fate,
+    What costly offering will the gods indeed propitiate?
+
+    While this they pondered, lo! a sound of footsteps fell on
+          every ear,
+    And in their midst a Roman youth did presently appear.
+    Apollo’s brow, a mien like Mars, in Beauty’s mould he seemed
+          new-made,
+    As on his golden hair the sun with dazzling dalliance played.
+
+    ’Tis Marcus Curtius! Purer blood none there could boast, and none
+          more brave:
+    There stands the youthful patriot, come, a Roman, Rome to save.
+    His own young life, he offers that, yea, volunteers _himself_
+          to throw
+    Within the cleft to make it close, and stay the heavy woe.
+
+    And now on horseback, fully armed, behold him, for the hour
+          hath come.
+    The Roman guards keep watch and ward, and beats the muffled drum.
+    The consuls, proctors, soothsayers, within the forum group around,
+    Young Curtius in the saddle sits,--there yawns the severed ground.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    Each pulse is stayed. He lifts his helm, and bares his forehead
+          to the sky,
+    And to the broad, blue heaven above upturns his flashing eye.
+    “O Rome, O country best beloved, thou land in which I first
+          drew breath,
+    I render back the life thou gav’st, to rescue _thee_
+          from death!”
+
+    Then spurring on his gallant steed, a last and brief farewell
+          he said,
+    And leapt within the gaping gulf, _which closed above his head_.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    THE RIDE FROM GHENT TO AIX.
+
+    I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
+    I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three.
+    “Good speed!” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
+    “Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping through.
+    Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
+    And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
+
+    Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
+    Neck by neck, stride for stride, never changing our place.
+    I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
+    Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
+    Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
+    Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
+
+    ’Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
+    Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
+    At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
+    At Düffield, ’twas morning, as plain as could be;
+    And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
+    So Joris broke the silence with, “Yet there is time!”
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    At Aorschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
+    And against him the cattle stood black every one.
+    To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
+    And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last,
+    With resolute shoulders, each butting away
+    The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray.
+
+    And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
+    For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
+    And one eye’s black intelligence, ever that glance
+    O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance;
+    And the thick, heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
+    His fierce lips shook upwards on galloping on.
+
+    By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay spur!
+    Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault’s not in her.
+    We’ll remember at Aix!”--for one heard the quick wheeze
+    Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
+    And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
+    As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
+
+    So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
+    Past Looz and past Tongrés, no cloud in the sky;
+    The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
+    ’Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff,
+    Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
+    And, “Gallop,” gasped Joris, “for Aix is in sight!”
+
+    “How they’ll greet us!” And all in a moment his roan
+    Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
+    And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
+    Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
+    With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim
+    And with circles of red for his eye-sockets’ rim.
+
+    Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
+    Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
+    Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
+    Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer;
+    Clapped my hands, laughed and sang,--any noise, bad or good,
+    Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
+
+    And all I remember is friends flocking around
+    As I sat with his head ’twixt my knees on the ground,
+    And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
+    As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
+    Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
+    Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    A YARN.
+
+    “’Tis Saturday night, and our watch below.
+    What heed we, boys, how the breezes blow,
+    While our cans are brimmed with the sparkling flow?
+    Come, Jack, uncoil, as we pass the grog,
+    And spin us a yarn from memory’s log.”
+
+    Jack’s brawny chest like the broad sea heaved,
+    While his loving lip to the beaker cleaved;
+    And he drew his tarred and well-saved sleeve
+    Across his mouth, as he drained the can,
+    And thus to his listening mates began:--
+
+    “When I sailed, a boy, in the schooner Mike,
+    No bigger, I trow, than a marlinespike--
+    But I’ve told ye the tale ere now, belike?”
+    “Go on!” each voice re-echoed,
+    And the tar thrice hemmed, and thus he said:--
+
+    “A stanch-built craft as the waves e’er bore--
+    We had loosed our sail for home once more,
+    Freighted full deep from Labrador,
+    When a cloud one night rose on our lee,
+    That the heart of the stoutest quailed to see.
+
+    “And voices wild with the winds were blent,
+    As our bark her prow to the waters bent;
+    And the seamen muttered their discontent--
+    Muttered and nodded ominously--
+    But the mate, right carelessly whistled he.
+
+    “‘Our bark may never outride the gale.
+    ’Tis a pitiless night! The pattering hail
+    Hath coated each spar as ’twere in mail;
+    And our sails are riven before the breeze,
+    While our cordage and shrouds into icicles freeze!’
+
+    “Thus spake the skipper beside the mast,
+    While the arrowy sleet fell thick and fast;
+    And our bark drove onward before the blast
+    That goaded the waves, till the angry main
+    Rose up and strove with the hurricane.
+
+    “Up spake the mate, and his tone was gay,--
+    ‘Shall we at this hour to fear give way?
+    We must labor, in sooth, as well as pray.
+    Out, shipmates, and grapple home yonder sail,
+    That flutters in ribbons before the gale!’
+
+    “Loud swelled the tempest, and rose the shriek,
+    ‘Save, save! we are sinking! A leak! a leak!’
+    And the hale old skipper’s tawny cheek
+    Was cold, as ’twere sculptured in marble there,
+    And white as the foam or his own white hair.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    “The wind piped shrilly, the wind piped loud,
+    It shrieked ’mong the cordage, it howled in the shroud,
+    And the sleet fell thick from the cold, dun cloud;
+    But high over all, in tones of glee,
+    The voice of the mate rang cheerily,--
+
+    “Now, men, for your wives’ and your sweethearts’ sakes!
+    Cheer, messmates, cheer! Quick! man the brakes!
+    We’ll gain on the leak ere the skipper wakes;
+    And though our peril your hearts appall,
+    Ere dawns the morrow we’ll laugh at the squall.”
+
+    “He railed at the tempest, he laughed at its threats,
+    He played with his fingers like castanets;
+    Yet think not that he, in his mirth, forgets
+    That the plank he is riding this hour at sea
+    May launch him the next to eternity!
+
+    “The white-haired skipper turned away,
+    And lifted his hands, as it were to pray;
+    But his look spoke plainly as look could say,
+    The boastful thought of the Pharisee,--
+    ‘Thank God, I’m not hardened as others be!’
+
+    “But the morning dawned, and the waves sank low,
+    And the winds, o’erwearied, forebore to blow:
+    And our bark lay there in the golden glow.--
+    Flashing she lay in the bright sunshine,
+    _An ice-sheathed hulk_ on the cold, still brine.
+
+    “Well, shipmates, my yarn is almost spun--
+    The cold and the tempest their work had done,
+    And I was the last, lone, living one,
+    Clinging, benumbed, to that wave-girt wreck,
+    While the dead around me bestrewed the deck.
+
+    “Yea, the dead were round me everywhere!
+    The skipper gray, in the sunlight there,
+    Still lifted his paralyzed hands in prayer;
+    And the mate, whose tones through the darkness leapt,
+    In the silent hush of the morning slept.
+
+    “Oh, bravely he perished who sought to save
+    Our storm-tossed bark from the pitiless wave,
+    And her crew from a yawning and fathomless grave,
+    Crying, Messmates, cheer!’ with a bright, glad smile,
+    And praying, ‘Be merciful, God!’ the while.
+
+    “True to his trust, to his last chill gasp,
+    The helm lay clutched in his stiff, cold grasp:
+    You might scarcely in death undo the clasp;
+    And his crisp, brown locks were dank and thin,
+    And the icicles hung from his bearded chin.
+
+    “My timbers have weathered, since, many a gale;
+    And when life’s tempests this hulk assail,
+    And the binnacle-lamp in my breast burns pale,
+    ‘Cheer, messmates, cheer!’ to my heart I say,
+    ‘We must labor, in sooth, as well as pray.’”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ballads of Bravery, by Various
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ballads of Bravery, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Ballads of Bravery
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George Melville Baker
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2016 [EBook #53148]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS OF BRAVERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Paul Marshall and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p class="covernote center space-below3">The cover image was created by the transcriber, and is in the public domain.</p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="Frontispiece" width="500" height="702" />
+</div>
+
+<h1><span class="smcap">Ballads of Bravery.</span></h1>
+
+<p class="center">EDITED BY<br />GEORGE M. BAKER.<br />WITH<br />FORTY FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.</p>
+
+<p class="center">BOSTON:<br />LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.<br />1877.</p>
+
+<p class="center">COPYRIGHT.<br />LEE AND SHEPARD.<br />1877.
+BOSTON:<br />ELECTROTYPED BY ALFRED MUDGE AND SON,<br />SCHOOL STREET.</p>
+
+<p class="center">UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE:<br />WELCH, BIGELOW, &amp; CO.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/title2.jpg" alt="Ballads of Bravery." width="500" height="150" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/contents.jpg" alt="Contents." width="600" height="567" />
+</div>
+
+<table  class="space-above3 space-below3" border="0" cellspacing="2" summary="Table of Contents." cellpadding="2">
+  <tbody><tr>
+      <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+      <td class="tdr"><small>PAGE.</small></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Curfew Must Not Ring To-Night.</span>”</td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_13">&nbsp;13</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Glove and the Lions.</span>&mdash;<i>Leigh Hunt</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">&nbsp;18</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Young Hero.</span></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">&nbsp;21</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Beggar Maid.</span>&mdash;<i>Tennyson</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26">&nbsp;26</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Bunker Hill.</span>&mdash;<i>G. H. Calvert</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">&nbsp;29</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fastening the Buckle.</span>&mdash;<i>Samuel Burnham</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34">&nbsp;34</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hervé Riel.</span>&mdash;<i>Robert Browning</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">&nbsp;37</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Battle of Lexington.</span>&mdash;<i>Geo. W. Bungay</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">&nbsp;46</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Brave at Home.</span>&mdash;<i>T. Buchanan Read</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">&nbsp;50</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Kane.</span>&mdash;<i>Fitz James O’Brien</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">&nbsp;53</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Life-Boat.</span>&mdash;<i>Alice M. Adams</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">&nbsp;58</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Red Jacket.</span>&mdash;<i>George M. Baker</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">&nbsp;61</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Othello’s Story of His Life.</span>&mdash;<i>Shakspeare</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">&nbsp;66</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blacksmith of Ragenbach.</span>&mdash;<i>Frank Marry</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">&nbsp;70</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Marmion and Douglas.</span>&mdash;<i>Scott</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">&nbsp;75</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Loss of the Hornet.</span></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">&nbsp;80</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Man the Life-Boat.</span>&mdash;<i>Anon.</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">&nbsp;84</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sir Galahad.</span>&mdash;<i>Tennyson</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">&nbsp;87</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">King Canute and His Nobles.</span>&mdash;<i>Dr. Walcott</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">&nbsp;92</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Outward Bound.</span>&mdash;<i>Anon.</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_96">&nbsp;96</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Brides of Venice.</span>&mdash;<i>Samuel Rogers</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99">&nbsp;99</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Landing of the Pilgrims.</span>&mdash;<i>Mrs. Hemans</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Days of Chivalry.</span>&mdash;<i>Anon.</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Song of the Camp.</span>&mdash;<i>Anon.</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Recantation of Galileo.</span>&mdash;<i>F. E. Raleigh</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Belshazzar.</span>-<i>-Trans. from Heine</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Liberty</span>.&mdash;<i>From William Tell. By J. Sheridan Knowles</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fishermen.</span>&mdash;<i>Whittier</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Excelsior.</span>&mdash;<i>Longfellow</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Soldier.</span>&mdash;<i>Robert Burns</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John Maynard.</span></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_143">143</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Excalibur.</span>&mdash;<i>Tennyson</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Death of Arthur.</span>&mdash;<i>Tennyson</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea.</span>&mdash;<i>Allan Cunningham</i>&nbsp;&emsp;&nbsp;</td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Leap of Curtius.</span>&mdash;<i>Geo. Aspinall</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Ride from Ghent to Aix.</span></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td>
+    </tr><tr>
+      <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Yarn.</span>&mdash;<i>Mary Howitt.</i></td>
+      <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td>
+    </tr>
+ </tbody>
+</table>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_1.jpg" alt="_" width="300" height="244" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/title.jpg" alt="Ballads of Bravery." width="500" height="94" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+    <h2>“<span class="smcap">Curfew must not ring To-night</span>.”</h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p013.jpg" alt="Ballads of Bravery." width="500" height="55" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_e.jpg" width="50" height="68" alt="E" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d drop-cap">ENGLAND’S sun, bright setting o’er the hills so far away,</span>
+<span class="i5">Filled the land with misty beauty at the close of one sad day;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i1">He with step so slow and weary; she with sunny, floating hair;</span>
+<span class="i1">He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful; she, with lips so cold and white,</span>
+<span class="i1">Struggled to keep back the murmur, “Curfew must not ring to-night.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Sexton,” Bessie’s white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old,</span>
+<span class="i0">With its walls so tall and gloomy, walls so dark and damp and cold,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">“I’ve a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die</span>
+<span class="i0">At the ringing of the curfew; and no earthly help is nigh.</span>
+<span class="i0">Cromwell will not come till sunset,” and her face grew strangely white,</span>
+<span class="i0">As she spoke in husky whispers, “Curfew must not ring to-night.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Bessie,” calmly spoke the sexton (every word pierced her young heart</span>
+<span class="i0">Like a thousand gleaming arrows, like a deadly poisoned dart),</span>
+<span class="i0">“Long, long years I’ve rung the curfew from that gloomy, shadowed tower;</span>
+<span class="i0">Every evening, just at sunset, it has told the twilight hour.</span>
+<span class="i0">I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right:</span>
+<span class="i0">Now I’m old, I will not miss it. Girl, the curfew rings to-night!”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful brow;</span>
+<span class="i0">And within her heart’s deep centre Bessie made a solemn vow.</span>
+<span class="i0">She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or sigh,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">“At the ringing of the curfew Basil Underwood <i>must die</i>.”</span>
+<span class="i0">And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large and bright;</span>
+<span class="i0">One low murmur, scarcely spoken, “Curfew <i>must not</i> ring to-night!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She with light step bounded forward, sprang within the old church-door,</span>
+<span class="i0">Left the old man coming slowly, paths he’d trod so oft before.</span>
+<span class="i0">Not one moment paused the maiden, but, with cheek and brow aglow,</span>
+<span class="i0">Staggered up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and fro;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then she climbed the slimy ladder, dark, without one ray of light,</span>
+<span class="i0">Upward still, her pale lips saying, “Curfew <i>shall not</i> ring to-night!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She has reached the topmost ladder; o’er her hangs the great, dark bell,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell.</span>
+<span class="i0">See! the ponderous tongue is swinging; ’tis the hour of curfew now,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled her brow.</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall she let it ring? No, never! Her eyes flash with sudden light,</span>
+<span class="i0">As she springs, and grasps it firmly: “Curfew <i>shall not</i> ring to-night!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Out she swung,&mdash;far out. The city seemed a tiny speck below,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">There ’twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the bell swung to and fro;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the half-deaf sexton ringing (years he had not heard the bell),</span>
+<span class="i0">And he thought the twilight curfew rang young Basil’s funeral knell.</span>
+<span class="i0">Still the maiden, clinging firmly, cheek and brow so pale and white,</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">Stilled her frightened heart’s wild beating: <i>“Curfew shall not ring to-night!”</i></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p015.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="642" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+<p><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was o’er, the bell ceased swaying; and the maiden stepped once more</span>
+<span class="i0">Firmly on the damp old ladder, where, for hundred years before,</span>
+<span class="i0">Human foot had not been planted; and what she this night had done</span>
+<span class="i0">Should be told long ages after. As the rays of setting sun</span>
+<span class="i0">Light the sky with mellow beauty, aged sires, with heads of white,</span>
+<span class="i0">Tell the children why the curfew did not ring that one sad night.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O’er the distant hills came Cromwell. Bessie saw him; and her brow,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lately white with sickening horror, glows with sudden beauty now.</span>
+<span class="i0">At his feet she told her story, showed her hands, all bruised and torn;</span>
+<span class="i0">And her sweet young face, so haggard, with a look so sad and worn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light.</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">“Go! your lover lives,” cried Cromwell. “Curfew shall not ring to-night!”</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_1.jpg" alt="_" width="300" height="244" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+    <h2><span class="smcap">The Glove and the Lions.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p018.jpg" alt="The Glove and the Lion." width="600" height="71" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_k.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="E" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d drop-cap">KING FRANCIS was a hearty king and loved a royal sport,</span>
+<span class="i6">And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court.</span>
+<span class="i0">The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ’mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed.</span>
+<span class="i0">And truly ’twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;</span>
+<span class="i0">They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;</span>
+<span class="i0">With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother;</span>
+<span class="i0">The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air.</span>
+<span class="i0">Said Francis then, “Faith, gentlemen, we’re better here than there.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">De Lorge’s love o’erheard the king,&mdash;a beauteous, lively dame,</span>
+<span class="i0">With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same;</span>
+<span class="i0">She thought, “The count, my lover, is brave as brave can be,</span>
+<span class="i0">He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me.</span>
+<span class="i0">King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;</span>
+<span class="i0">I’ll drop my glove to prove his love. Great glory will be mine!”</span>
+<span class="i0">She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked on him and smiled;</span>
+<span class="i0">He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild.</span>
+<span class="i0">The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady’s face.</span>
+<span class="i0">“By Heaven!” said Francis, “rightly done!” rising from where he sat.</span>
+<span class="i0">“No love,” quoth he, “but vanity, sets love a task like that.”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p019.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="629" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
+<p><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">A Young Hero.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p021.jpg" alt="A Young Hero." width="500" height="108" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_o.jpg" width="50" height="68" alt="O" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d drop-cap">ON Labrador, like coils of flame</span>
+<span class="i6">That clasp the walls of blazing town,</span>
+<span class="i0">The long, resistless billows came,</span>
+<span class="i2">And swept the craggy headlands down;</span>
+<span class="i0">Till ploughing in strong agonies</span>
+<span class="i2">Their furrows deep into the land,</span>
+<span class="i2">They carried rocks, and bars of sand</span>
+<span class="i0">Past farthest margin of old seas,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in their giant fury bore</span>
+<span class="i0">Full thirty crowded craft ashore.</span>
+<span class="i0">That night they pushed the darkness through,</span>
+<span class="i0">O’er rocks where slippery lichens grew,</span>
+<span class="i0">And swamps of slime and melted snow,</span>
+<span class="i0">And torrents filled to overflow,</span>
+<span class="i0">Through pathless wilds, in showers and wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where woe to him who lags behind!</span>
+<span class="i0">Where children slipped in ooze, and lay</span>
+<span class="i0">Half frozen, buried half in clay;</span>
+<span class="i0">Young mothers, with their babes at breast,</span>
+<span class="i0">In chilly stupor dropped to rest.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A sailor lad of years fourteen</span>
+<span class="i2">Had chanced, as by the waters thrown,</span>
+<span class="i2">On four that made sad cry and moan</span>
+<span class="i0">For parents they had lost between</span>
+<span class="i2">The wreck and shore, or haply missed.</span>
+<span class="i2">Cheerly and kind their cheeks he kissed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And folded each in other’s arm.</span>
+<span class="i2">Upon a sloping mound of moss</span>
+<span class="i2">He dragged a heavy sail across,</span>
+<span class="i0">Close-pinned with bowlders, rough yet warm;</span>
+<span class="i2">And packing it with mosses tight,</span>
+<span class="i2">Kept steadfast watch the livelong night,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dared depart, lest e’er again</span>
+<span class="i2">Was found this treasure he had hid,</span>
+<span class="i2">Some sudden treacherous gust had slid</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath that rugged counterpane.</span>
+<span class="i2">He knew not name or face of one.</span>
+<span class="i2">He saved them. It was nobly done.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Day dawned at last. The storm had lulled;</span>
+<span class="i2">And these were happy, sleeping yet.</span>
+<span class="i0">A few fresh hands of moss he pulled,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then traced with trembling steps the track</span>
+<span class="i2">Of many footprints deeply set;</span>
+<span class="i2">And pressing forward, early met</span>
+<span class="i0">These children’s parents hasting back,</span>
+<span class="i2">And filled their hearts with boundless joy,</span>
+<span class="i0">As with blanched lips and chattering teeth</span>
+<span class="i2">He told them of his night’s employ;</span>
+<span class="i2">Feigned, too, he was not much distressed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Although his dying heart, beneath</span>
+<span class="i2">His icy-frozen shirt and vest,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p023.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="698" />
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beat faint. They went; and o’er his eyes</span>
+<span class="i0">A gathering film beclouded light;</span>
+<span class="i2">And music murmured in his brain,</span>
+<span class="i2">Such respite sang from toil and strain</span>
+<span class="i0">That all his senses, wearied quite,</span>
+<span class="i2">Were lapped to slumber, lulling pain;</span>
+<span class="i0">Whilst soothing visions seemed to rise,</span>
+<span class="i2">That brought him scenes of other times,</span>
+<span class="i0">With cherub faces, beaming bright,</span>
+<span class="i2">Of many children, and the rhymes</span>
+<span class="i0">His mother taught him on her knee,</span>
+<span class="i0">In happy days of infancy.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then gentlest forms, with rustling wings,</span>
+<span class="i2">Were wafting him a world of ease</span>
+<span class="i2">Beneath those downy canopies,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherewith they shut out angry skies;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they with winning beckonings&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Who looked so sweet and saintly wise&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">His buoyant spirit drew afar</span>
+<span class="i2">From creaking timbers, shivering sails,</span>
+<span class="i2">And ships that strain in autumn gales,</span>
+<span class="i2">And snow-mixed rains, and sleeting hails,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wind and waves at endless war.</span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! who will e’er forget the day,</span>
+<span class="i2">The bitter tears, the voiceless prayer,</span>
+<span class="i0">The thoughts of grief we could not say,</span>
+<span class="i0">The shallow graves within the bay,</span>
+<span class="i2">The fifteen dear ones buried there,</span>
+<span class="i0">The grown, the young, who, side by side,</span>
+<span class="i2">Without or coffin, shroud, or priest,</span>
+<span class="i2">Were laid; and him we mourned not least,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The boy that had so bravely died!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Beggar Maid.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p026.jpg" alt="The Beggar Maid." width="500" height="83" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_h.jpg" width="40" height="64" alt="H" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d drop-cap">HER arms across her breast she laid;</span>
+<span class="i8">She was more fair than words can say;</span>
+<span class="i4">Barefooted came the beggar maid</span>
+<span class="i6">Before the king Cophetua.</span>
+<span class="i0">In robe and crown the king stept down</span>
+<span class="i2">To meet and greet her on her way.</span>
+<span class="i0">“It is no wonder,” said the lords,</span>
+<span class="i2">“She is more beautiful than day.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As shines the moon in clouded skies,</span>
+<span class="i2">She in her poor attire was seen;</span>
+<span class="i0">One praised her ankles, one her eyes,</span>
+<span class="i2">One her dark hair and lovesome mien.</span>
+<span class="i0">So sweet a face, such angel grace,</span>
+<span class="i2">In all that land had never been;</span>
+<span class="i0">Cophetua sware a royal oath,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">“This beggar maid shall be my queen.”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p027.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="657" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Bunker Hill.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p029.jpg" alt="Bunker Hill." width="400" height="88" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_n.jpg" width="50" height="59" alt="N" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">NOT yet, not yet! Steady, steady!”</span>
+<span class="i6">On came the foe in even line,</span>
+<span class="i6">Nearer and nearer to thrice paces nine.</span>
+<span class="i0">We looked into their eyes. “Ready!”</span>
+<span class="i0">A sheet of flame, a roll of death!</span>
+<span class="i0">They fell by scores: we held our breath.</span>
+<span class="i2">Then nearer still they came.</span>
+<span class="i2">Another sheet of flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">And brave men fled who never fled before.</span>
+<span class="i2">Immortal fight!</span>
+<span class="i2">Foreshadowing flight</span>
+<span class="i0">Back to the astounded shore.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Quickly they rallied, re-enforced,</span>
+<span class="i0">’Mid louder roar of ships’ artillery,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bursting bombs and whistling musketry,</span>
+<span class="i4">And shouts and groans anear, afar,</span>
+<span class="i4">All the new din of dreadful war.</span>
+<span class="i2">Through their broad bosoms calmly coursed</span>
+<span class="i4">The blood of those stout farmers, aiming</span>
+<span class="i4">For freedom, manhood’s birthright claiming.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Onward once more they came.</span>
+<span class="i0">Another sheet of deathful flame!</span>
+<span class="i2">Another and another still!</span>
+<span class="i0">They broke, they fled,</span>
+<span class="i0">Again they sped</span>
+<span class="i2">Down the green, bloody hill.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Howe, Burgoyne, Clinton, Gage,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stormed with commanders’ rage.</span>
+<span class="i0">Into each emptied barge</span>
+<span class="i0">They crowd fresh men for a new charge</span>
+<span class="i0">Up that great hill.</span>
+<span class="i0">Again their gallant blood we spill.</span>
+<span class="i0">That volley was the last:</span>
+<span class="i2">Our powder failed.</span>
+<span class="i0">On three sides fast</span>
+<span class="i2">The foe pressed in, nor quailed</span>
+<span class="i0">A man. Their barrels empty, with musket-stocks</span>
+<span class="i0">They fought, and gave death-dealing knocks,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till Prescott ordered the retreat.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Warren fell; and through a leaden sleet</span>
+<span class="i0">From Bunker Hill and Breed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stark, Putnam, Pomeroy, Knowlton, Read,</span>
+<span class="i0">Led off the remnant of those heroes true,</span>
+<span class="i0">The foe too weakened to pursue.</span>
+<span class="i0">The ground they gained; but we</span>
+<span class="i6">The victory.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p031.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="389" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The tidings of that chosen band</span>
+<span class="i2">Flowed in a wave of power</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the shaken, anxious land,</span>
+<span class="i2">To men, to man, a sudden dower.</span>
+<span class="i0">History took a fresh, higher start</span>
+<span class="i2">From that stanch, beaming hour;</span>
+<span class="i0">And when the speeding messenger, that bare</span>
+<span class="i0">The news that strengthened every heart,</span>
+<span class="i0">Met near the Delaware</span>
+<span class="i0">The leader, who had just been named,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who was to be so famed,</span>
+<span class="i2">The steadfast, earnest Washington,</span>
+<span class="i0">With hands uplifted, cries,</span>
+<span class="i0">His great soul flashing to his eyes,</span>
+<span class="i2">“Our liberties are safe! The cause is won!”</span>
+<span class="i0">A thankful look he cast to heaven, and then</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">His steed he spurred, in haste to lead such noble men.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_2.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="108" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Fastening the Buckle.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p034.jpg" alt="Fastening the Buckle." width="500" height="75" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_s.jpg" width="50" height="62" alt="S" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">STAND still, my steed, though the foe &nbsp;&nbsp;is&nbsp;near,</span>
+<span class="i6">And sharp the rattle of hoofs on the hill.</span>
+<span class="i0">And see! there’s the glitter of many a spear,</span>
+<span class="i2">And a wrathful shout that bodes us ill.</span>
+<span class="i0">Stand still! Our way is weary and long,</span>
+<span class="i2">And muscle and foot are put to the test.</span>
+<span class="i0">Buckle and girth must be tightened and strong;</span>
+<span class="i2">And rider and horse are far from rest.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A moment more, and then we’ll skim</span>
+<span class="i2">Like a driving cloud o’er hill and plain;</span>
+<span class="i0">The vision of horseman will slowly dim,</span>
+<span class="i2">And pursuer seek the pursued in vain.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ha! stirrup is strong and girth is tight!</span>
+<span class="i2">One bound to the saddle, and off we go.</span>
+<span class="i0">I count their spears as they glisten bright</span>
+<span class="i2">In the ruddy beams of the sunset glow.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">’Tis life or death; but we’re fresh and strong,</span>
+<span class="i2">And buckle and girth are fastened tight.</span>
+<span class="i0">The race is hard and the way is long,</span>
+<span class="i2">But we’ll win as twilight fades into night.</span>
+<span class="i0">Hurrah for rider and horse to-day,</span>
+<span class="i2">For buckle and saddle fastened tight!</span>
+<span class="i0">We’ll win! we’re gaining! They drop away!</span>
+<span class="i2">Our haven of rest is full in sight.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p035.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="719" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Hervé Riel.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p037.jpg" alt="Hervé Riel." width="400" height="82" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_o.jpg" width="50" height="68" alt="O" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">ON the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,</span>
+<span class="i6">Did the English fight the French,&mdash;woe to France!</span>
+<span class="i0">And the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,</span>
+<span class="i0">Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,</span>
+<span class="i2">Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,</span>
+<span class="i0">With the English fleet in view.</span>
+<span class="i2">’Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase,</span>
+<span class="i0">First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville.</span>
+<span class="i4">Close on him fled, great and small,</span>
+<span class="i4">Twenty-two good ships in all;</span>
+<span class="i4">And they signalled to the place,</span>
+<span class="i4">“Help the winners of a race!</span>
+<span class="i0">Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick,&mdash;or, quicker still,</span>
+<span class="i0">Here’s the English can and will!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board.</span>
+<span class="i0">“Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?”</span>
+<span class="i6">laughed they.</span>
+<span class="i0">“Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred</span>
+<span class="i6">and scored,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall the Formidable here, with her twelve and eighty guns,</span>
+<span class="i0">Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way,</span>
+<span class="i0">Trust to enter where ’tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+<span class="i8">And with flow at full beside?</span>
+<span class="i8">Now ’tis slackest ebb of tide.</span>
+<span class="i6">Reach the mooring? Rather say,</span>
+<span class="i6">While rock stands or water runs,</span>
+<span class="i6">Not a ship will leave the bay!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Then was called a council straight;</span>
+<span class="i8">Brief and bitter the debate:</span>
+<span class="i0">“Here’s the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow</span>
+<span class="i0">All that’s left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow,</span>
+<span class="i8">For a prize to Plymouth Sound?</span>
+<span class="i8">Better run the ships aground!”</span>
+<span class="i8">(Ended Damfreville his speech.)</span>
+<span class="i8">“Not a minute more to wait!</span>
+<span class="i8">Let the captains all and each</span>
+<span class="i0">Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach!</span>
+<span class="i8">France must undergo her fate.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">“Give the word!” But no such word</span>
+<span class="i8">Was ever spoke or heard;</span>
+<span class="i0">For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these,</span>
+<span class="i0">A captain? A lieutenant? A mate,&mdash;first, second, third?</span>
+<span class="i8">No such man of mark, and meet</span>
+<span class="i8">With his betters to compete,</span>
+<span class="i0">But a simple Breton sailor, pressed by Tourville for the fleet,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel, the Croisickese.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p039.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="663" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And “What mockery or malice have we here?” cries Hervé Riel.</span>
+<span class="i2">“Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues?</span>
+<span class="i0">Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell</span>
+<span class="i0">On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell</span>
+<span class="i2">’Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river disembogues?</span>
+<span class="i0">Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying’s for?</span>
+<span class="i8">Morn and eve, night and day,</span>
+<span class="i8">Have I piloted your bay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor.</span>
+<span class="i2">Burn the fleet, and ruin France? That were worse than</span>
+<span class="i6">fifty Hogues!</span>
+<span class="i0">Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me, there’s a way!</span>
+<span class="i8">Only let me lead the line,</span>
+<span class="i10">Have the biggest ship to steer,</span>
+<span class="i10">Get this Formidable clear,</span>
+<span class="i8">Make the others follow mine,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I lead them most and least by a passage I know well,</span>
+<span class="i8">Right to Solidor, past Greve,</span>
+<span class="i10">And there lay them safe and sound;</span>
+<span class="i8">And if one ship misbehave,</span>
+<span class="i10">Keel so much as grate the ground,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Why, I’ve nothing but my life; here’s my head!” cries Hervé Riel.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Not a minute more to wait.</span>
+<span class="i8">“Steer us in, then, small and great!</span>
+<span class="i0">Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!” cried its chief.</span>
+<span class="i8">“Captains, give the sailor place!”</span>
+<span class="i10">He is admiral, in brief.</span>
+<span class="i8">Still the north-wind, by God’s grace.</span>
+<span class="i8">See the noble fellow’s face</span>
+<span class="i8">As the big ship, with a bound,</span>
+<span class="i8">Clears the entry like a hound,</span>
+<span class="i0">Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas profound!</span>
+<span class="i8">See, safe through shoal and rock,</span>
+<span class="i8">How they follow in a flock.</span>
+<span class="i0">Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground,</span>
+<span class="i10">Not a spar that comes to grief!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
+<span class="i8">The peril, see, is past,</span>
+<span class="i8">All are harbored to the last;</span>
+<span class="i0">And just as Hervé Riel halloos, “Anchor!”&mdash;sure as fate,</span>
+<span class="i8">Up the English come, too late.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">So the storm subsides to calm;</span>
+<span class="i10">They see the green trees wave</span>
+<span class="i10">On the heights o’erlooking Greve.</span>
+<span class="i8">Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.</span>
+<span class="i8">“Just our rapture to enhance,</span>
+<span class="i10">Let the English rake the bay,</span>
+<span class="i8">Gnash their teeth and glare askance</span>
+<span class="i10">As they cannonade away!</span>
+<span class="i0">’Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!”</span>
+<span class="i0">How hope succeeds despair on each captain’s countenance!</span>
+<span class="i8">Out burst all with one accord,</span>
+<span class="i10">“This is Paradise for Hell!</span>
+<span class="i10">Let France, let France’s king,</span>
+<span class="i10">Thank the man that did the thing!”</span>
+<span class="i8">What a shout, and all one word,</span>
+<span class="i10">“Hervé Riel!”</span>
+<span class="i8">As he stepped in front once more,</span>
+<span class="i10">Not a symptom of surprise</span>
+<span class="i10">In the frank blue Breton eyes,</span>
+<span class="i8">Just the same man as before.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p043.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="423" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Then said Damfreville, “My friend,</span>
+<span class="i8">I must speak out at the end,</span>
+<span class="i10">Though I find the speaking hard:</span>
+<span class="i8">Praise is deeper than the lips.</span>
+<span class="i8">You have saved the king his ships,</span>
+<span class="i10">You must name your own reward.</span>
+<span class="i8">Faith, our sun was near eclipse!</span>
+<span class="i8">Demand whate’er you will,</span>
+<span class="i8">France remains your debtor still.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ask to heart’s content, and have, or my name’s not Damfreville.”</span>
+<span class="i8">Then a beam of fun outbroke</span>
+<span class="i8">On the bearded mouth that spoke,</span>
+<span class="i8">As the honest heart laughed through</span>
+<span class="i8">Those frank eyes of Breton blue:</span>
+<span class="i10">“Since I needs must say my say,</span>
+<span class="i8">Since on board the duty’s done,</span>
+<span class="i0">And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?</span>
+<span class="i10">Since ’tis ask and have I may,</span>
+<span class="i8">Since the others go ashore,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i10">Come, a good whole holiday!</span>
+<span class="i0">Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!”</span>
+<span class="i0">That he asked, and that he got,&mdash;nothing more.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Name and deed alike are lost;</span>
+<span class="i8">Not a pillar nor a post</span>
+<span class="i0">In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;</span>
+<span class="i8">Not a head in white and black</span>
+<span class="i8">On a single fishing-smack</span>
+<span class="i0">In memory of the man but for whom had gone to rack</span>
+<span class="i0">All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell.</span>
+<span class="i8">Go to Paris; rank on rank</span>
+<span class="i10">Search the heroes flung pell-mell</span>
+<span class="i8">On the Louvre, face and flank,</span>
+<span class="i0">You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel.</span>
+<span class="i8">So, for better and for worse,</span>
+<span class="i8">Hervé Riel, accept my verse!</span>
+<span class="i0">In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more</span>
+<span class="i0">Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Battle of Lexington.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p046.jpg" alt="The Battle of Lexington." width="500" height="67" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">The circling century has brought</span>
+<span class="i6">THE day on which our fathers fought</span>
+<span class="i6">For liberty of deed and thought,</span>
+<span class="i10">One hundred years ago!</span>
+<span class="i0">We crown the day with radiant green,</span>
+<span class="i0">And buds of hope to bloom between,</span>
+<span class="i0">And stars undimmed, whose heavenly sheen</span>
+<span class="i4">Lights all the world below.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At break of day again we hear</span>
+<span class="i0">The ringing words of Paul Revere,</span>
+<span class="i0">And beat of drum and bugle near,</span>
+<span class="i4">And shots that shake the throne</span>
+<span class="i0">Of tyranny, across the sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wake the sons of Liberty</span>
+<span class="i0">To strike for freedom and be free:&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Our</i> king is God alone!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Load well with powder and with ball,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stand firmly, like a living wall;</span>
+<span class="i0">But fire not till the foe shall call</span>
+<span class="i4">A shot from every one,”</span>
+<span class="i0">Said Parker to his gallant men.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then Pitcairn dashed across the plain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Discharged an angry threat, and then</span>
+<span class="i4">The world heard Lexington!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p047.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="394" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Militia and brave minute-men</span>
+<span class="i0">Stood side by side upon the plain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unsheltered in the storm of rain,</span>
+<span class="i4">Of fire, and leaden sleet;</span>
+<span class="i0">But through the gray smoke and the flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">Star crowned, a white-winged angel came,</span>
+<span class="i0">To bear aloft the souls of flame</span>
+<span class="i4">From war’s red winding-sheet!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hancock and Adams glory won</span>
+<span class="i0">With yeomen whose best work was done</span>
+<span class="i0">At Concord and at Lexington,</span>
+<span class="i4">When first they struck the blow.</span>
+<span class="i0">Long may their children’s children bear</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon wide shoulders, fit to wear,</span>
+<span class="i0">The mantles that fell through the air</span>
+<span class="i4 space-below3">One hundred years ago!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_5.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="56" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Brave at Home.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p050.jpg" alt="The Brave at Home." width="500" height="78" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">THE maid who binds her warrior’s sash,</span>
+<span class="i6">With smile that well her pain dissembles,</span>
+<span class="i0">The while beneath her drooping lash</span>
+<span class="i6">One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though heaven alone records the tear,</span>
+<span class="i2">And fame shall never know the story,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her heart has shed a drop as dear</span>
+<span class="i2">As e’er bedewed the field of glory.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The wife who girds her husband’s sword,</span>
+<span class="i2">’Mid little ones who weep or wonder,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bravely speaks the cheering word,</span>
+<span class="i2">What though her heart be rent asunder,</span>
+<span class="i0">Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear</span>
+<span class="i2">The bolts of death around him rattle,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hath shed as sacred blood as e’er</span>
+<span class="i2">Was poured upon a field of battle!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The mother who conceals her grief,</span>
+<span class="i2">While to her breast her son she presses,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then breathes a few brave words and brief,</span>
+<span class="i2">Kissing the patriot brow she blesses,</span>
+<span class="i0">With no one but her secret God</span>
+<span class="i2">To know the pain that weighs upon her,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sheds holy blood as e’er the sod</span>
+<span class="i2">Received on Freedom’s field of honor!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p051.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="657" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Kane: died February 16, 1857.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p053.jpg" alt="Kane: died February 16, 1857." width="500" height="72" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_a.jpg" width="50" height="59" alt="A" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">ALOFT upon an old basaltic crag,</span>
+<span class="i6">Which, scalped by keen winds that defend the Pole,</span>
+<span class="i6">Gazes with dead face on the seas that roll</span>
+<span class="i6">Around the secret of the mystic zone,</span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty nation’s star-bespangled flag</span>
+<span class="i10">Flutters alone;</span>
+<span class="i0">And underneath, upon the lifeless front</span>
+<span class="i2">Of that drear cliff, a simple name is traced,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Fit type of him who, famishing and gaunt,</span>
+<span class="i2">But with a rocky purpose in his soul,</span>
+<span class="i10">Breasted the gathering snows,</span>
+<span class="i10">Clung to the drifting floes,</span>
+<span class="i2">By want beleaguered and by winter chased,</span>
+<span class="i2">Seeking the brother lost amid that frozen waste.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not many months ago we greeted him,</span>
+<span class="i2">Crowned with the icy honors of the North.</span>
+<span class="i2">Across the land his hard-won fame went forth,</span>
+<span class="i0">And Maine’s deep woods were shaken limb by limb;</span>
+<span class="i0">His own mild Keystone State, sedate and prim,</span>
+<span class="i2">Burst from decorous quiet as he came;</span>
+<span class="i2">Hot Southern lips, with eloquence aflame,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sounded his triumph; Texas, wild and grim,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Proffered its horny hand; the large-lunged West,</span>
+<span class="i10">From out his giant breast,</span>
+<span class="i2">Yelled its frank welcome; and from main to main,</span>
+<span class="i10">Jubilant to the sky,</span>
+<span class="i10">Thundered the mighty cry,</span>
+<span class="i14"><span class="smcap">Honor to Kane</span>!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He needs no tears, who lived a noble life!</span>
+<span class="i2">We will not weep for him who died so well,</span>
+<span class="i2">But we will gather round the hearth and tell</span>
+<span class="i10">The story of his strife.</span>
+<span class="i10">Such homage suits him well,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">Better than funeral pomp or passing bell.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What tale of peril and self-sacrifice,</span>
+<span class="i0">Prisoned amid the fastnesses of ice,</span>
+<span class="i0">With hunger howling o’er the wastes of snow;</span>
+<span class="i0">Night lengthening into months; the ravenous floe</span>
+<span class="i0">Crunching the massive ships, as the white bear</span>
+<span class="i0">Crunches his prey. The insufficient share</span>
+<span class="i10">Of loathsome food;</span>
+<span class="i0">The lethargy of famine; the despair</span>
+<span class="i2">Urging to labor, nervelessly pursued;</span>
+<span class="i2">Toil done with skinny arms, and faces hued</span>
+<span class="i0">Like pallid masks, while dolefully behind</span>
+<span class="i0">Glimmered the fading embers of a mind!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p055.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="371" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That awful hour, when through the prostrate band</span>
+<span class="i0">Delirium stalked, laying his burning hand</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the ghastly foreheads of the crew;</span>
+<span class="i0">The whispers of rebellion, faint and few</span>
+<span class="i0">At first, but deepening ever till they grew</span>
+<span class="i0">Into black thoughts of murder: such the throng</span>
+<span class="i0">Of horrors bound the hero. High the song</span>
+<span class="i0">Should be that hymns the noble part he played!</span>
+<span class="i0">Sinking himself, yet ministering aid</span>
+<span class="i0">To all around him. By a mighty will</span>
+<span class="i0">Living defiant of the wants that kill,</span>
+<span class="i2">Because his death would seal his comrades’ fate;</span>
+<span class="i0">Cheering, with ceaseless and inventive skill,</span>
+<span class="i2">Those Polar waters, dark and desolate.</span>
+<span class="i2">Equal to every trial, every fate,</span>
+<span class="i0">He stands, until spring, tardy with relief,</span>
+<span class="i10">Unlocks the icy gate,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the pale prisoners thread the world once more,</span>
+<span class="i0">To the steep cliffs of Greenland’s pastoral shore,</span>
+<span class="i10">Bearing their dying chief.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Time was when he should gain his spurs of gold</span>
+<span class="i2">From royal hands, who wooed the knightly state.</span>
+<span class="i0">The knell of old formalities is tolled,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the world’s knights are now self-consecrate.</span>
+<span class="i0">No grander episode doth chivalry hold</span>
+<span class="i2">In all its annals, back to Charlemagne,</span>
+<span class="i2">Than that lone vigil of unceasing pain,</span>
+<span class="i0">Faithfully kept through hunger and through cold,</span>
+<span class="i2 space-below3">By the good Christian knight, <span class="smcap">Elisha Kane</span>!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_3.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="57" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Life-Boat.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p058.jpg" alt="The Life-Boat." width="450" height="95" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_l.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="L" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">LAUNCH the life-boat! Far on high</span>
+<span class="i8">The fiery rockets gleam,</span>
+<span class="i6">While loud and clear the booming signal gun</span>
+<span class="i0">Says there is work that quickly must be done.</span>
+<span class="i0">A vessel’s in distress: haste, every one,</span>
+<span class="i8">Nor idly stop to dream.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Launch the life-boat! On the shore</span>
+<span class="i8">The startled people stand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And watch the signal lights that shine on high,</span>
+<span class="i0">And through the pitchy darkness seek to spy</span>
+<span class="i0">The struggling ship, or to their comrades try</span>
+<span class="i8">To lend a helping hand.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Launch the life-boat! Now the moon</span>
+<span class="i8">Sheds forth her silvery light,</span>
+<span class="i0">And shows the boat is off; one long, loud cheer</span>
+<span class="i0">Breaks from the eager crowd assembled here;</span>
+<span class="i0">The dip of oars comes to the listening ear,</span>
+<span class="i8">Upon the silent night.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Speed the life-boat and her crew,</span>
+<span class="i8">Speed them on their watery way!</span>
+<span class="i0">As joy and hope they bring to hearts cast down,</span>
+<span class="i0">And waiting ’neath the storm-clouds’ dismal frown,</span>
+<span class="i0">While wind and wave their trembling voices drown,</span>
+<span class="i8">Waiting another day.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p059.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="659" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Red Jacket.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+      <img src="images/p061.jpg" alt="The Red Jacket." width="400" height="88" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="'T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">TIS a cold, bleak night. With angry roar</span>
+<span class="i5">The north winds beat and clamor at the door;</span>
+<span class="i5">The drifted snow lies heaped along the street,</span>
+<span class="i5">Swept by a blinding storm of hail and sleet;</span>
+<span class="i0">The clouded heavens no guiding starlight lend,</span>
+<span class="i0">But o’er the earth in gloom and darkness bend;</span>
+<span class="i0">Gigantic shadows, by the night-lamps thrown,</span>
+<span class="i0">Dance their weird revels fitfully alone.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sunk in the treasures of all lands and seas;</span>
+<span class="i0">In happy homes, where warmth and comfort meet</span>
+<span class="i0">The weary traveller with their smiles to greet;</span>
+<span class="i0">In lonely dwellings, where the needy swarm</span>
+<span class="i0">Round starving embers, chilling limbs to warm,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Rises the prayer that makes the sad heart light,</span>
+<span class="i0">“Thank God for home this bitter, bitter night!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But hark! above the beating of the storm</span>
+<span class="i0">Peals on the startled ear the fire-alarm!</span>
+<span class="i0">Yon gloomy heaven’s aflame with sudden light;</span>
+<span class="i0">And heart-beats quicken with a strange affright.</span>
+<span class="i0">From tranquil slumber springs, at duty’s call,</span>
+<span class="i0">The ready friend no danger can appall;</span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce for the conflict, sturdy, true, and brave,</span>
+<span class="i0">He hurries forth to battle and to save.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From yonder dwelling fiercely shooting out,</span>
+<span class="i0">Devouring all they coil themselves about,</span>
+<span class="i0">The flaming furies, mounting high and higher,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wrap the frail structure in a cloak of fire.</span>
+<span class="i0">Strong arms are battling with the stubborn foe,</span>
+<span class="i0">In vain attempts their power to overthrow;</span>
+<span class="i0">With mocking glee they revel with their prey,</span>
+<span class="i0">Defying human skill to check their way.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And see! far up above the flames’ hot breath,</span>
+<span class="i0">Something that’s human waits a horrid death:</span>
+<span class="i0">A little child, with waving golden hair,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stands like a phantom ’mid the horrid glare,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her pale, sweet face against the window pressed,</span>
+<span class="i0">While sobs of terror shake her tender breast.</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the crowd beneath, in accents wild,</span>
+<span class="i0">A mother screams, “O God! my child, my child!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up goes a ladder! Through the startled throng</span>
+<span class="i0">A hardy fireman swiftly moves along,</span>
+<span class="i0">Mounts sure and fast along the slender way,</span>
+<span class="i0">Fearing no danger, dreading but delay.</span>
+<span class="i0">The stifling smoke-clouds lower in his path,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sharp tongues of flame assail him in their wrath;</span>
+<span class="i0">But up, still up he goes! The goal is won,</span>
+<span class="i0">His strong arm beats the sash, and he is gone,&mdash;</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gone to his death. The wily flames surround,</span>
+<span class="i0">And burn and beat his ladder to the ground;</span>
+<span class="i0">In flaming columns move with quickened beat,</span>
+<span class="i0">To rear a massive wall ’gainst his retreat.</span>
+<span class="i0">Courageous heart, thy mission was so pure,</span>
+<span class="i0">Suffering humanity must thy loss deplore:</span>
+<span class="i0">Henceforth with martyred heroes thou shalt live,</span>
+<span class="i0">Crowned with all honors nobleness can give.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p063.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="711" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay, not so fast! subdue these gloomy fears!</span>
+<span class="i0">Behold! he quickly on the roof appears,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing the tender child, his jacket warm</span>
+<span class="i0">Flung round her shrinking form to guard from harm.</span>
+<span class="i0">Up with your ladders! Quick! ’tis but a chance!</span>
+<span class="i0">Behold how fast the roaring flames advance!</span>
+<span class="i0">Quick! quick! brave spirits to his rescue fly!</span>
+<span class="i0">Up! up! by heavens, this hero must not die!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silence! he comes along the burning road,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing with tender care his living load.</span>
+<span class="i0">Aha! he totters! Heaven in mercy save</span>
+<span class="i0">The good, true heart that can so nobly brave!</span>
+<span class="i0">He’s up again, and now he’s coming fast!</span>
+<span class="i0">One moment, and the fiery ordeal’s past,</span>
+<span class="i0">And now he’s safe! Bold flames, ye fought in vain!</span>
+<span class="i0">A happy mother clasps her child again.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“O, Heaven bless you!” ’Tis an earnest prayer</span>
+<span class="i0">Which grateful thousands with that mother share.</span>
+<span class="i0">Heaven bless the brave who on the war-clad field</span>
+<span class="i0">Stand fast, stand firm, the nation’s trusty shield!</span>
+<span class="i0">Heaven bless the brave who on the mighty sea</span>
+<span class="i0">Fearless uphold the standard of the free!</span>
+<span class="i0">And Heaven’s choicest blessing for the brave</span>
+<span class="i0">Who fearless move our lives and homes to save!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Othello’s Story of his Life.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p066.jpg" alt="Othello’s Story of his Life." width="500" height="67" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_h.jpg" width="40" height="64" alt="H" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">HER father loved me; oft invited me;</span>
+<span class="i6">Still questioned me the story of my life</span>
+<span class="i6">From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,</span>
+<span class="i6">That I had past.</span>
+<span class="i0">I ran it through, e’en from my boyish days,</span>
+<span class="i0">To the very moment that he bade me tell it.</span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of moving accidents by flood and field,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of hair-breadth ’scapes, in the imminent deadly breach,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of being taken by the insolent foe,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,</span>
+<span class="i0">And with it all my travel’s history.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i29">All these to hear,</span>
+<span class="i0">Would Desdemona seriously incline;</span>
+<span class="i0">But still the house affairs would draw her thence,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whichever as she could with haste despatch,</span>
+<span class="i0">She’d come again, and with a greedy ear</span>
+<span class="i0">Devour up my discourse. Which, I observing,</span>
+<span class="i0">Took once a pliant hour, and found good means</span>
+<span class="i0">To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart</span>
+<span class="i0">That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereof, by parcels, she had something heard,</span>
+<span class="i0">But not distinctly.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p067.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="479" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i33">I did consent;</span>
+<span class="i0">And often did beguile her of her tears,</span>
+<span class="i0">When I did speak of some distressful stroke</span>
+<span class="i0">That my youth suffered. My story being done,</span>
+<span class="i0">She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.</span>
+<span class="i0">She swore in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing strange;</span>
+<span class="i0">’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful;</span>
+<span class="i0">She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished</span>
+<span class="i0">That heaven had made her such a man.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i33">She thanked me,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,</span>
+<span class="i0">I should but teach him how to tell my story,</span>
+<span class="i0">And that would woo her. On this hint I spake;</span>
+<span class="i0">She loved me for the dangers I had passed;</span>
+<span class="i0">And I loved her that she did pity them:</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">This is the only witchcraft which I’ve used.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_2.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="108" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Blacksmith of Ragenbach.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p070.jpg" alt="The Blacksmith of Ragenbach." width="500" height="70" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_i.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="I" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d drop-cap">IN a little German village,</span>
+<span class="i8">On the waters of the Rhine,</span>
+<span class="i5">Gay and joyous in their pastimes,</span>
+<span class="i8">In the pleasant vintage-time,</span>
+<span class="i0">Were a group of happy peasants,</span>
+<span class="i2">For the day released from toil,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thanking God for all his goodness</span>
+<span class="i2">In the product of their soil,</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When a cry rung through the welkin,</span>
+<span class="i2">And appeared upon the scene</span>
+<span class="i0">A panting dog, with crest erect,</span>
+<span class="i2">Foaming mouth, and savage mien.</span>
+<span class="i0">“He is mad!” was shrieked in chorus.</span>
+<span class="i2">In dismay they all fell back,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>All</i> except one towering figure,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">’Twas the smith of Ragenbach.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">God had given this man his image;</span>
+<span class="i2">Nature stamped him as complete.</span>
+<span class="i0">Now it was incumbent on him</span>
+<span class="i2">To perform a greater feat</span>
+<span class="i0">Than Horatius at the bridge,</span>
+<span class="i2">When he stood on Tiber’s bank;</span>
+<span class="i0">For behind him were his townsfolk,</span>
+<span class="i2">Who, appalled with terror, shrank</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p071.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="713" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the most appalling danger,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">That which makes the bravest quail,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">While they all were grouped together,</span>
+<span class="i2">Shaking limbs and visage pale.</span>
+<span class="i0">For a moment cowered the beast,</span>
+<span class="i2">Snapping to the left and right,</span>
+<span class="i0">While the blacksmith stood before him</span>
+<span class="i2">In the power of his might.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“<i>One</i> must die to save the many,</span>
+<span class="i2">Let it then my duty be:</span>
+<span class="i0">I’ve the power. Fear not, neighbors!</span>
+<span class="i2">From this peril you’ll be free.”</span>
+<span class="i0">As the lightning from the storm-cloud</span>
+<span class="i2">Leaps to earth with sudden crash,</span>
+<span class="i0">So upon the rabid monster</span>
+<span class="i2">Did this man and hero dash.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the death-grip then they struggled,</span>
+<span class="i2">Man and dog, with scarce a sound,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till from out the fearful conflict</span>
+<span class="i2">Rose the man from off the ground,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gashed and gory from the struggle;</span>
+<span class="i2">But the beast lay stiff and dead.</span>
+<span class="i0">There he stood, while people gathered,</span>
+<span class="i2">And rained blessings on his head.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Friends,” he said, “from one great peril,</span>
+<span class="i2">With God’s help, I’ve set you free,</span>
+<span class="i0">But my task is not yet ended,</span>
+<span class="i2">There is danger now in <i>me</i>.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet secure from harm you shall be,</span>
+<span class="i2">None need fear before I die.</span>
+<span class="i0">That my sufferings may be shortened,</span>
+<span class="i2">Ask of Him who rules on high.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then unto his forge he straightway</span>
+<span class="i2">Walked erect, with rapid step,</span>
+<span class="i0">While the people followed after,</span>
+<span class="i2">Some with shouts, while others wept;</span>
+<span class="i0">And with nerve as steady as when</span>
+<span class="i2">He had plied his trade for gain,</span>
+<span class="i0">He selected, without faltering,</span>
+<span class="i2">From his store, the heaviest chain.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To his anvil first he bound it,</span>
+<span class="i2">Next his limb he shackled fast,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then he said unto his townsfolk,</span>
+<span class="i2">“All your danger now is past.</span>
+<span class="i0">Place within my reach, I pray you,</span>
+<span class="i2">Food and water for a time,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until God shall ease my sufferings</span>
+<span class="i2">By his gracious will divine.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Long he suffered, but at last</span>
+<span class="i2">Came a summons from on high,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then his soul, with angel escort,</span>
+<span class="i2">Sought its home beyond the sky;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the people of that village,</span>
+<span class="i2">Those whom he had died to save,</span>
+<span class="i0">Still with grateful hearts assemble,</span>
+<span class="i2">And with flowers bedeck his grave.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Marmion and Douglas.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p075.jpg" alt="Marmion and Douglas." width="450" height="70" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_n.jpg" width="50" height="59" alt="N" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">NOT far advanced was morning day,</span>
+<span class="i5">When Marmion did his troop array</span>
+<span class="i7">To Surrey’s camp to ride.</span>
+<span class="i0">He had safe-conduct for his band,</span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the royal seal and hand,</span>
+<span class="i2">And Douglas gave a guide.</span>
+<span class="i0">The ancient earl, with stately grace,</span>
+<span class="i0">Would Clara on her palfrey place,</span>
+<span class="i0">And whispered in an undertone,</span>
+<span class="i0">“Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.”</span>
+<span class="i0">The train from out the castle drew,</span>
+<span class="i0">But Marmion stopped to bid adieu:</span>
+<span class="i2">“Though something I might ’plain,” he said,</span>
+<span class="i0">“Of cold respect to stranger guest,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sent hither by your king’s behest,</span>
+<span class="i2">While in Tantallon’s towers I stayed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Part we in friendship from your land,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, noble earl, receive my hand.”</span>
+<span class="i0">But Douglas round him drew his cloak,</span>
+<span class="i0">Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:</span>
+<span class="i0">“My manors, halls, and bowers shall still</span>
+<span class="i0">Be open, at my sovereign’s will,</span>
+<span class="i0">To each one whom he lists, howe’er</span>
+<span class="i0">Unmeet to be the owner’s peer;</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">My castles are my king’s alone,</span>
+<span class="i0">From turret to foundation-stone,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The hand of Douglas is his own,</span>
+<span class="i0">And never shall in friendly grasp</span>
+<span class="i0">The hand of such as Marmion clasp.”</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p076.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="639" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Burned Marmion’s swarthy cheek like fire,</span>
+<span class="i0">And shook his very frame for ire,</span>
+<span class="i2">And&mdash;“This to me!” he said;&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">“An ’twere not for thy hoary beard,</span>
+<span class="i0">Such hand as Marmion’s had not spared</span>
+<span class="i0">To cleave the Douglas’ head!</span>
+<span class="i0">And first, I tell thee, haughty peer,</span>
+<span class="i0">He who does England’s message here,</span>
+<span class="i0">Although the meanest in her state,</span>
+<span class="i0">May well, proud Angus, be thy mate!</span>
+<span class="i0">And Douglas, more, I tell thee here,</span>
+<span class="i0">Even in thy pitch of pride,</span>
+<span class="i0">Here in thy hold, thy vassals near,</span>
+<span class="i0">(Nay, never look upon your lord,</span>
+<span class="i0">And lay your hands upon your sword,)</span>
+<span class="i2">I tell thee, thou ’rt defied!</span>
+<span class="i0">And if thou saidst I am not peer</span>
+<span class="i0">To any lord in Scotland here,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lowland or Highland, far or near,</span>
+<span class="i2">Lord Angus, thou hast lied!”</span>
+<span class="i0">On the earl’s cheek the flush of rage</span>
+<span class="i0">O’ercame the ashen hue of age:</span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce he broke forth, “And dar’st thou then</span>
+<span class="i0">To beard the lion in his den,</span>
+<span class="i2">The Douglas in his hall?</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And hop’st thou hence unscathed to go?</span>
+<span class="i0">No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no!</span>
+<span class="i0">Up drawbridge, grooms! What, warder, ho!</span>
+<span class="i2">Let the portcullis fall.”</span>
+<span class="i0">Lord Marmion turned,&mdash;well was his need!&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">And dashed the rowels in his steed,</span>
+<span class="i0">Like arrow through the archway sprung;</span>
+<span class="i0">The ponderous grate behind him rung:</span>
+<span class="i0">To pass there was such scanty room,</span>
+<span class="i0">The bars, descending, razed his plume.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The steed along the drawbridge flies,</span>
+<span class="i0">Just as it trembled on the rise;</span>
+<span class="i0">Not lighter does the swallow skim</span>
+<span class="i0">Along the smooth lake’s level brim;</span>
+<span class="i0">And when Lord Marmion reached his band,</span>
+<span class="i0">He halts, and turns with clinched hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">And shout of loud defiance pours,</span>
+<span class="i0">And shook his gauntlet at the towers.</span>
+<span class="i0">“Horse! horse!” the Douglas cried, “and chase!”</span>
+<span class="i0">But soon he reigned his fury’s pace:</span>
+<span class="i0">“A royal messenger he came,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though most unworthy of the name.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">St. Mary mend my fiery mood!</span>
+<span class="i0">Old age ne’er cools the Douglas blood,</span>
+<span class="i0">I thought to slay him where he stood.</span>
+<span class="i0">’Tis pity of him, too,” he cried;</span>
+<span class="i0">“Bold can he speak and fairly ride,</span>
+<span class="i0">I warrant him a warrior tried.”</span>
+<span class="i0">With this his mandate he recalls,</span>
+<span class="i0">And slowly seeks his castle walls.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Loss of the Hornet.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p080.jpg" alt="The Loss of the Hornet." width="500" height="61" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_c.jpg" width="50" height="61" alt="C" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">CALL the watch! call the watch!</span>
+<span class="i7">“Ho! the starboard watch, ahoy!” Have you heard</span>
+<span class="i5">How a noble ship so trim, like our own, my hearties, here,</span>
+<span class="i0">All scudding ’fore the gale, disappeared,</span>
+<span class="i2">Where yon southern billows roll o’er their bed so green and clear?</span>
+<span class="i0">Hold the reel! keep her full! hold the reel!</span>
+<span class="i2">How she flew athwart the spray, as, shipmates, we do now,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till her twice a hundred fearless hearts of steel</span>
+<span class="i2">Felt the whirlwind lift its waters aft, and plunge her</span>
+<span class="i6">downward bow!</span>
+<span class="i18">Bear a hand!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Strike top-gallants! mind your helm! jump aloft!</span>
+<span class="i2">’Twas such a night as this, my lads, a rakish bark was drowned,</span>
+<span class="i0">When demons foul, that whisper seamen oft,</span>
+<span class="i2">Scooped a tomb amid the flashing surge that never shall be found.</span>
+<span class="i0">Square the yards! a double reef! Hark the blast!</span>
+<span class="i2">O, fiercely has it fallen on the war-ship of the brave,</span>
+<span class="i0">When its tempest fury stretched the stately mast</span>
+<span class="i2">All along her foamy sides, as they shouted on the wave,</span>
+<span class="i18">“Bear a hand!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Call the watch! call the watch!</span>
+<span class="i2">“Ho! the larboard watch, ahoy!” Have you heard</span>
+<span class="i0">How a vessel, gay and taut, on the mountains of the sea,</span>
+<span class="i2">Went below, with all her warlike crew on board,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">They who battled for the happy, boys, and perished for the free?</span>
+<span class="i2">Clew, clew up, fore and aft! keep away!</span>
+<span class="i0">How the vulture bird of death, in its black and viewless form,</span>
+<span class="i2">Hovered sure o’er the clamors of his prey,</span>
+<span class="i0">While through all their dripping shrouds yelled the spirit of</span>
+<span class="i6">the storm!</span>
+<span class="i18">Bear a hand!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p082.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="625" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Now out reefs! brace the yards! lively there!</span>
+<span class="i2">O, no more to homeward breeze shall her swelling bosom spread,</span>
+<span class="i0">But love’s expectant eye bid despair</span>
+<span class="i2">Set her raven watch eternal o’er the wreck in ocean’s bed.</span>
+<span class="i0">Board your tacks! cheerly, boys! But for them,</span>
+<span class="i2">Their last evening gun is fired, their gales are overblown;</span>
+<span class="i0">O’er their smoking deck no starry flag shall stream;</span>
+<span class="i2">They’ll sail no more, they’ll fight no more, for their gallant</span>
+<span class="i6">ship’s gone down.</span>
+<span class="i18 space-below3">Bear a hand!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_4.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="108" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Man the Life-boat.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p084.jpg" alt="Man the Life-boat." width="450" height="77" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_m.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="M" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">MAN the life-boat! Man the life-boat!</span>
+<span class="i7">Help, or yon ship is lost!</span>
+<span class="i5">Man the life-boat! Man the life-boat!</span>
+<span class="i7">See how she’s tempest-tossed.</span>
+<span class="i0">No human power in such an hour</span>
+<span class="i2">The gallant bark can save;</span>
+<span class="i0">Her mainmast gone, and running on,</span>
+<span class="i2">She seeks her watery grave.</span>
+<span class="i0">Man the life-boat! Man the life-boat!</span>
+<span class="i2">See, the dreaded signal flies!</span>
+<span class="i0">Ha! she’s struck, and from the wreck</span>
+<span class="i2">Despairing shouts arise.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, speed the life-boat! Speed the life-boat!</span>
+<span class="i2">O God, their efforts crown!</span>
+<span class="i0">She dashes on; the ship is gone,</span>
+<span class="i2">Full forty fathoms down.</span>
+<span class="i0">And see, the crew are struggling now</span>
+<span class="i2">Amidst the tempest roar.</span>
+<span class="i0">They’re in the boat, they’re all afloat,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">Hurrah! they’ve gained the shore.</span>
+<span class="i0">Bless the life-boat! Bless the life-boat!</span>
+<span class="i2">O God, thou’lt hear our prayer!</span>
+<span class="i0">Bless the life-boat! Bless the life-boat!</span>
+<span class="i2">No longer we’ll despair.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p085.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="316" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Sir Galahad.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p087.jpg" alt="Sir Galahad." width="500" height="91" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_m.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="M" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">MY good blade carves the casques of &nbsp;&nbsp;men,</span>
+<span class="i5">My tough lance thrusteth sure,</span>
+<span class="i0">My strength is as the strength of ten,</span>
+<span class="i2">Because my heart is pure.</span>
+<span class="i0">The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,</span>
+<span class="i2">The hard brands shiver on the steel,</span>
+<span class="i0">The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly,</span>
+<span class="i2">The horse and rider reel:</span>
+<span class="i0">They reel, they roll in clanging lists,</span>
+<span class="i2">And when the tide of combat stands,</span>
+<span class="i0">Perfume and flowers fall in showers,</span>
+<span class="i2">That lightly rain from ladies’ hands.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How sweet are looks that ladies bend</span>
+<span class="i2">On whom their favors fall!</span>
+<span class="i0">For them I battle till the end,</span>
+<span class="i2">To save from shame and thrall:</span>
+<span class="i0">But all my heart is drawn above,</span>
+<span class="i2">My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine:</span>
+<span class="i0">I never felt the kiss of love,</span>
+<span class="i2">Nor maiden’s hand in mine.</span>
+<span class="i0">More bounteous aspects on me beam,</span>
+<span class="i2">Me mightier transports move and thrill;</span>
+<span class="i0">So keep I fair through faith and prayer</span>
+<span class="i2">A virgin heart in work and will.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When down the stormy crescent goes,</span>
+<span class="i2">A light before me swims,</span>
+<span class="i0">Between dark stems the forest glows,</span>
+<span class="i2">I hear a noise of hymns:</span>
+<span class="i0">Then by some secret shrine I ride;</span>
+<span class="i2">I hear a voice, but none are there;</span>
+<span class="i0">The stalls are void, the doors are wide,</span>
+<span class="i2">The tapers burning fair.</span>
+<span class="i0">Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,</span>
+<span class="i2">The silver vessels sparkle clean,</span>
+<span class="i0">The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,</span>
+<span class="i2">And solemn chants resound between.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres</span>
+<span class="i2">I find a magic bark;</span>
+<span class="i0">I leap on board: no helmsman steers:</span>
+<span class="i2">I float till all is dark.</span>
+<span class="i0">A gentle sound, an awful light!</span>
+<span class="i2">Three angels bear the holy Grail:</span>
+<span class="i0">With folded feet, in stoles of white,</span>
+<span class="i2">On sleeping wings they sail.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!</span>
+<span class="i2">My spirit beats her mortal bars,</span>
+<span class="i0">As down dark tides the glory slides,</span>
+<span class="i2">And star-like mingles with the stars.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When on my goodly charger borne</span>
+<span class="i2">Through dreaming towns I go,</span>
+<span class="i0">The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,</span>
+<span class="i2">The streets are dumb with snow.</span>
+<span class="i0">The tempest crackles on the leads,</span>
+<span class="i2">And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;</span>
+<span class="i0">But o’er the dark a glory spreads,</span>
+<span class="i2">And gilds the driving hail.</span>
+<span class="i0">I leave the plain, I climb the height;</span>
+<span class="i2">No branchy thicket shelter yields;</span>
+<span class="i0">But blessed forms in whistling storms</span>
+<span class="i2">Fly o’er waste fens and windy fields.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p089.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="625" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A maiden knight, to me is given</span>
+<span class="i2">Such hope, I know not fear;</span>
+<span class="i0">I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven</span>
+<span class="i2">That often meet me here.</span>
+<span class="i0">I muse on joy that will not cease,</span>
+<span class="i2">Pure spaces clothed in living beams,</span>
+<span class="i0">Pure lilies of eternal peace,</span>
+<span class="i2">Whose odors haunt my dreams;</span>
+<span class="i0">And, stricken by an angel’s hand,</span>
+<span class="i2">This mortal armor that I wear,</span>
+<span class="i0">This weight and size, this heart and eyes,</span>
+<span class="i2">Are touched, are turned to finest air.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The clouds are broken in the sky,</span>
+<span class="i2">And through the mountain-walls</span>
+<span class="i0">A rolling organ-harmony</span>
+<span class="i2">Swells up, and shakes and falls.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then move the trees, the copses nod,</span>
+<span class="i2">Wings flutter, voices hover clear:</span>
+<span class="i0">“O just and faithful knight of God,</span>
+<span class="i2">Ride on! the prize is near.”</span>
+<span class="i0">So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;</span>
+<span class="i2">By bridge and ford, by park and pale,</span>
+<span class="i0">All armed I ride, whate’er betide,</span>
+<span class="i2">Until I find the holy Grail.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">King Canute and his Nobles.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p092.jpg" alt="King Canute and his Nobles." width="600" height="63" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_c.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="C" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">CANUTE was by his nobles taught to fancy</span>
+<span class="i5">That, by a kind of royal necromancy,</span>
+<span class="i7">He had the power old Ocean to control.</span>
+<span class="i0">Down rushed the royal Dane upon the strand,</span>
+<span class="i2">And issued, like a Solomon, command,&mdash;poor soul!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Go back, ye waves, you blustering rogues,” quoth he;</span>
+<span class="i0">“Touch not your lord and master, Sea;</span>
+<span class="i2">For by my power almighty, if you do&mdash;”</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, staring vengeance, out he held a stick,</span>
+<span class="i0">Vowing to drive old Ocean to Old Nick,</span>
+<span class="i2">Should he even wet the latchet of his shoe.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sea retired,&mdash;the monarch fierce rushed on,</span>
+<span class="i2">And looked as if he’d drive him from the land;</span>
+<span class="i0">But Sea, not caring to be put upon,</span>
+<span class="i2">Made for a moment a bold stand.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not only made a stand did Mr. Ocean,</span>
+<span class="i0">But to his waves he made a motion,</span>
+<span class="i2">And bid them give the king a hearty trimming.</span>
+<span class="i0">The order seemed a deal the waves to tickle,</span>
+<span class="i0">For soon they put his Majesty in pickle,</span>
+<span class="i2">And set his royalties, like geese, a swimming.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p093.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="724" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All hands aloft, with one tremendous roar,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sound did they make him wish himself on shore;</span>
+<span class="i2">His head and ears they most handsomely doused,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Just like a porpoise, with one general shout,</span>
+<span class="i0">The waves so tumbled the poor king about.</span>
+<span class="i2">No anabaptist e’er was half so soused.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length to land he crawled, a half-drowned thing,</span>
+<span class="i0">Indeed, more like a crab than like a king,</span>
+<span class="i2">And found his courtiers making rueful faces;</span>
+<span class="i0">But what said Canute to the lords and gentry,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who hailed him from the water, on his entry,</span>
+<span class="i2">All trembling for their lives or places?</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“My lords and gentlemen, by your advice,</span>
+<span class="i2">I’ve had with Mr. Sea a pretty bustle;</span>
+<span class="i0">My treatment from my foe, not overnice,</span>
+<span class="i2">Just made a jest for every shrimp and mussel.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“A pretty trick for one of my dominion!</span>
+<span class="i0">My lords, I thank you for your great opinion.</span>
+<span class="i0">You’ll tell me, p’r’aps, I’ve only lost one game</span>
+<span class="i2">And bid me try another,&mdash;for the rubber.</span>
+<span class="i0">Permit me to inform you all, with shame,</span>
+<span class="i2 space-below3">That you’re a set of knaves and I’m a lubber.”</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_3.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="57" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Outward Bound.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p096.jpg" alt="Outward Bound." width="400" height="91" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_c.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="C" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">CLINK&mdash;clink&mdash;clink! goes our windlass.</span>
+<span class="i7">“Ahoy!” “Haul in!” “Let go!”</span>
+<span class="i5">Yards braced and sails set,</span>
+<span class="i7">Flags uncurl and flow.</span>
+<span class="i0">Some eyes that watch from shore are wet,</span>
+<span class="i2">(How bright their welcome shone!)</span>
+<span class="i0">While, bending softly to the breeze,</span>
+<span class="i0">And rushing through the parted seas,</span>
+<span class="i2">Our gallant ship glides on.</span>
+<span class="i0">Though one has left a sweetheart,</span>
+<span class="i2">And one has left a wife,</span>
+<span class="i0">’Twill never do to mope and fret,</span>
+<span class="i2">Or curse a sailor’s life.</span>
+<span class="i0">See, far away they signal yet,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">They dwindle&mdash;fade&mdash;they’re gone:</span>
+<span class="i0">For, dashing outwards, bold and brave,</span>
+<span class="i0">And springing light from wave to wave,</span>
+<span class="i2">Our merry ship flies on.</span>
+<span class="i0">Gay spreads the sparkling ocean;</span>
+<span class="i2">But many a gloomy night</span>
+<span class="i0">And stormy morrow must be met</span>
+<span class="i2">Ere next we heave in sight.</span>
+<span class="i0">The parting look we’ll ne’er forget,</span>
+<span class="i2">The kiss, the benison,</span>
+<span class="i0">As round the rolling world we go.</span>
+<span class="i0">God bless you all! Blow, breezes blow!</span>
+<span class="i2">Sail on, good ship, sail on!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p097.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="626" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Brides of Venice.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p099.jpg" alt="The Brides of Venice" width="450" height="78" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_i.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="I" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">It was St. Mary’s eve; and all poured forth,</span>
+<span class="i5">As to some grand solemnity. The fisher</span>
+<span class="i5">Came from his islet, bringing o’er the waves</span>
+<span class="i0">His wife and little one; the husbandman</span>
+<span class="i0">From the Firm Land, along the Po, the Brenta,</span>
+<span class="i0">Crowding the common ferry. All arrived;</span>
+<span class="i0">And in his straw the prisoner turned and listened,</span>
+<span class="i0">So great the stir in Venice. Old and young</span>
+<span class="i0">Thronged her three hundred bridges; the grave Turk,</span>
+<span class="i0">Turbaned, long-vested, and the cozening Jew,</span>
+<span class="i0">In yellow hat and threadbare gabardine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Hurrying along. For, as the custom was,</span>
+<span class="i0">The noblest sons and daughters of the state,</span>
+<span class="i0">They of patrician birth, the flower of Venice,</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose names are written in the “Book of Gold,”</span>
+<span class="i0">Were on that day to solemnize their nuptials.</span>
+<span class="i2">At noon, a distant murmur through the crowd,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rising and rolling on, announced their coming;</span>
+<span class="i0">And never from the first was to be seen</span>
+<span class="i0">Such splendor or such beauty. Two and two</span>
+<span class="i0">(The richest tapestry unrolled before them),</span>
+<span class="i0">First came the brides in all their loveliness;</span>
+<span class="i0">Each in her veil, and by two bridemaids followed.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Only less lovely, who behind her bore</span>
+<span class="i0">The precious caskets that within contained</span>
+<span class="i0">The dowry and the presents. On she moved,</span>
+<span class="i0">Her eyes cast down, and holding in her hand</span>
+<span class="i0">A fan, that gently waved, of ostrich feathers.</span>
+<span class="i0">Her veil, transparent as the gossamer,</span>
+<span class="i0">Fell from beneath a starry diadem;</span>
+<span class="i0">And on her dazzling neck a jewel shone,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ruby or diamond or dark amethyst;</span>
+<span class="i0">A jewelled chain, in many a winding wreath,</span>
+<span class="i0">Wreathing her gold brocade.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p100.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="405" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i26">Before the church,</span>
+<span class="i0">That venerable pile on the sea-brink,</span>
+<span class="i0">Another train they met,&mdash;no strangers to them,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Brothers to some, and to the rest still dearer,</span>
+<span class="i0">Each in his hand bearing his cap and plume,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, as he walked, with modest dignity</span>
+<span class="i0">Folding his scarlet mantle, his <i>tabarro.</i></span>
+<span class="i2">They join, they enter in, and up the aisle</span>
+<span class="i0">Led by the full-voiced choir, in bright procession,</span>
+<span class="i0">Range round the altar. In his vestments there</span>
+<span class="i0">The patriarch stands; and while the anthem flows,</span>
+<span class="i0">Who can look on unmoved? Mothers in secret</span>
+<span class="i0">Rejoicing in the beauty of their daughters;</span>
+<span class="i0">Sons in the thought of making them their own;</span>
+<span class="i0">And they, arrayed in youth and innocence,</span>
+<span class="i0">Their beauty heightened by their hopes and fears.</span>
+<span class="i2">At length the rite is ending. All fall down</span>
+<span class="i0">In earnest prayer, all of all ranks together;</span>
+<span class="i0">And stretching out his hands, the holy man</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Proceeds to give the general benediction,</span>
+<span class="i0">When hark! a din of voices from without,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And shrieks and groans and outcries, as in battle;</span>
+<span class="i0">And lo! the door is burst, the curtain rent,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And armed ruffians, robbers from the deep,</span>
+<span class="i0">Savage, uncouth, led on by Barbarigo</span>
+<span class="i0">And his six brothers in their coats of steel,</span>
+<span class="i0">Are standing on the threshold! Statue-like,</span>
+<span class="i0">Awhile they gaze on the fallen multitude,</span>
+<span class="i0">Each with his sabre up, in act to strike;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, as at once recovering from the spell,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rush forward to the altar, and as soon</span>
+<span class="i0">Are gone again, amid no clash of arms,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing away the maidens and the treasures.</span>
+<span class="i2">Where are they now? Ploughing the distant waves,</span>
+<span class="i0">Their sails all set, and they upon the deck</span>
+<span class="i0">Standing triumphant. To the east they go,</span>
+<span class="i0">Steering for Istria, their accursed barks</span>
+<span class="i0">(Well are they known, the galliot and the galley)</span>
+<span class="i0">Freighted with all that gives to life its value</span>
+<span class="i0">The richest argosies were poor to them!</span>
+<span class="i2">Now might you see the matrons running wild</span>
+<span class="i0">Along the beach; the men half armed and arming;</span>
+<span class="i0">One with a shield, one with a casque and spear;</span>
+<span class="i0">One with an axe, hewing the mooring-chain</span>
+<span class="i0">Of some old pinnace. Not a raft, a plank,</span>
+<span class="i0">But on that day was drifting. In an hour</span>
+<span class="i0">Half Venice was afloat. But long before,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Frantic with grief, and scorning all control,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The youths were gone in a light brigantine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lying at anchor near the arsenal;</span>
+<span class="i0">Each having sworn, and by the holy rood,</span>
+<span class="i0">To slay or to be slain.</span>
+<span class="i23">And from the tower</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The watchman gives the signal. In the east</span>
+<span class="i0">A ship is seen, and making for the port;</span>
+<span class="i0">Her flag St. Mark’s. And now she turns the point,</span>
+<span class="i0">Over the waters like a sea-bird flying.</span>
+<span class="i0">Ha! ’tis the same, ’tis theirs! From stern to prow</span>
+<span class="i0">Hung with green boughs, she comes, she comes, restoring</span>
+<span class="i0">All that was lost!</span>
+<span class="i17">Coasting, with narrow search.</span>
+<span class="i0">Friuli, like a tiger in his spring,</span>
+<span class="i0">They had surprised the corsairs where they lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sharing the spoil in blind security,</span>
+<span class="i0">And casting lots; had slain them one and all,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">All to the last,&mdash;and flung them far and wide</span>
+<span class="i0">Into the sea, their proper element.</span>
+<span class="i0">Him first, as first in rank, whose name so long</span>
+<span class="i0">Had hushed the babes of Venice, and who yet</span>
+<span class="i0">Breathing a little, in his look retained</span>
+<span class="i0">The fierceness of his soul.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p105.jpg" alt="_" width="400" height="615" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i26">Thus were the brides</span>
+<span class="i0">Lost and recovered. And what now remained</span>
+<span class="i0">But to give thanks? Twelve breastplates and twelve crowns,</span>
+<span class="i0">Flaming with gems and gold, the votive offerings</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the young victors to their patron saint,</span>
+<span class="i0">Vowed on the field of battle, were erelong</span>
+<span class="i0">Laid at his feet; and to preserve forever</span>
+<span class="i0">The memory of a day so full of change,</span>
+<span class="i0">From joy to grief, from grief to joy again,</span>
+<span class="i0">Through many an age, as oft as it came round,</span>
+<span class="i0">’Twas held religiously with all observance.</span>
+<span class="i0">The Doge resigned his crimson for pure ermine;</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And through the city in a stately barge</span>
+<span class="i0">Of gold were borne, with songs and symphonies,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Twelve ladies young and noble. Clad they were</span>
+<span class="i0">In bridal white with bridal ornaments,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Each in her glittering veil; and on the deck</span>
+<span class="i0">As on a burnished throne, they glided by.</span>
+<span class="i0">No window or balcony but adorned</span>
+<span class="i0">With hangings of rich texture; not a roof</span>
+<span class="i0">But covered with beholders, and the air</span>
+<span class="i0">Vocal with joy. Onward they went, their oars</span>
+<span class="i0">Moving in concert with the harmony,</span>
+<span class="i0">Through the Rialto to the ducal palace;</span>
+<span class="i0">And at a banquet there, served with due honor,</span>
+<span class="i0">Sat, representing in the eyes of all&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Eyes not unwet, I ween, with grateful tears&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">Their lovely ancestors, the “Brides of Venice.”</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_1.jpg" alt="_" width="300" height="244" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p108.jpg" alt="The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers." width="600" height="76" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">THE breaking waves dashed high</span>
+<span class="i7">On a stern and rock-bound coast,</span>
+<span class="i5">And the woods against a stormy sky</span>
+<span class="i7">Their giant branches tossed;</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the heavy night hung dark</span>
+<span class="i2">The hills and water o’er,</span>
+<span class="i0">When a band of exiles moored their bark</span>
+<span class="i2">On the wild New England shore.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not as the conqueror comes,</span>
+<span class="i2">They, the true-hearted, came;</span>
+<span class="i0">Not with the roll of the stirring drums,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the trumpet that sings of fame;</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not as the flying come,</span>
+<span class="i2">In silence and in fear;</span>
+<span class="i0">They shook the depths of the desert gloom</span>
+<span class="i2">With their hymns of lofty cheer.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Amidst the storm they sang,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the stars heard, and the sea;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang</span>
+<span class="i2">To the anthem of the free!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p109.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="389" />
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The ocean eagle soared</span>
+<span class="i2">From his nest by the white wave’s foam,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the rocking pines of the forest roared,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">This was their welcome home.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There were men with hoary hair</span>
+<span class="i2">Amidst that pilgrim band:</span>
+<span class="i0">Why had they come to wither there,</span>
+<span class="i2">Away from their childhood’s land?</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was woman’s fearless eye,</span>
+<span class="i2">Lit by her deep love’s truth;</span>
+<span class="i0">There was manhood’s brow, serenely high,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the fiery heart of youth.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What sought they thus afar?</span>
+<span class="i2">Bright jewels of the mine,</span>
+<span class="i0">The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?</span>
+<span class="i2">They sought a faith’s pure shrine!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Aye, call it holy ground,</span>
+<span class="i2">The soil where first they trod;</span>
+<span class="i0">They have left unstained what there they found,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2 space-below3">Freedom to worship God.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_5.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="56" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Days of Chivalry.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p112.jpg" alt="The Days of Chivalry." width="500" height="88" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_a.jpg" width="50" height="59" alt="A" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">ALAS! The days of chivalry are fled,</span>
+<span class="i7">The brilliant tournament exists no more;</span>
+<span class="i5">Our loves are cold, and dull as ice or lead,</span>
+<span class="i7">And courting is a most enormous bore.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In those good “olden times,” a “ladye bright”</span>
+<span class="i2">Might sit within her turret or her bower,</span>
+<span class="i0">While lovers sang and played without all night,</span>
+<span class="i2">And deemed themselves rewarded by a flower.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet if one favored swain would persevere,</span>
+<span class="i2">In despite of her haughty scorn and laugh,</span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance she threw him, with the closing year,</span>
+<span class="i2">An old odd glove, or else a worn-out scarf.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Off then, away he’d ride o’er sea and land,</span>
+<span class="i2">And dragons fell and mighty giants smite</span>
+<span class="i0">With the tough spear he carried in his hand;</span>
+<span class="i2">And all to prove himself her own true knight.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p113.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="473" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Meanwhile a thousand more, as wild as he,</span>
+<span class="i2">Were all employed upon the self-same thing;</span>
+<span class="i0">And when each had rode hard for his “ladye,”</span>
+<span class="i2">They all come back and met within a ring.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where all the men who were entitled “syr”</span>
+<span class="i2">Appeared with martial air and haughty frown,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing “long poles, each other up to stir,”</span>
+<span class="i2">And, in the stir-up, thrust each other down.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And then they galloped round with dire intent,</span>
+<span class="i2">Each knight resolved another’s pride to humble;</span>
+<span class="i0">And laughter rang around the tournament</span>
+<span class="i2">As oft as any of them had a tumble.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when, perchance, some ill-starred wight might die,</span>
+<span class="i2">The victim of a stout, unlucky poke,</span>
+<span class="i0">Mayhap some fair one wiped one beauteous eye,</span>
+<span class="i2">The rest smiled calmly on the deadly joke.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Soon, then, the lady, whose grim, stalwart swain</span>
+<span class="i2">Had got the strongest horse and toughest pole,</span>
+<span class="i0">Bedecked him, kneeling, with a golden chain,</span>
+<span class="i2">And plighted troth before the motley whole.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alas! the days of chivalry are fled,</span>
+<span class="i2">The brilliant tournament exists no more.</span>
+<span class="i0">Men now are cold and dull as ice or lead,</span>
+<span class="i2">And even courtship is a dreadful bore.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Song of the Camp.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p116.jpg" alt="The Song of the Camp." width="500" height="71" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_g_apos.jpg" width="60" height="65" alt="G" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">GIVE us a song!” the soldiers cried,</span>
+<span class="i7">The outer trenches guarding,</span>
+<span class="i5">When the heated guns of the camps allied</span>
+<span class="i7">Grew weary of bombarding.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dark Redan, in silent scoff,</span>
+<span class="i2">Lay grim and threatening under;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the tawny mound of the Malakoff</span>
+<span class="i2">No longer belched its thunder.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was a pause. A guardsman said,</span>
+<span class="i2">“We storm the forts to-morrow;</span>
+<span class="i0">Sing while we may, another day</span>
+<span class="i2">Will bring enough of sorrow.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They lay along the battery’s side,</span>
+<span class="i2">Below the smoking cannon,</span>
+<span class="i0">Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde,</span>
+<span class="i2">And from the banks of Shannon.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They sang of love, and not of fame;</span>
+<span class="i2">Forgot was Britain’s glory:</span>
+<span class="i0">Each heart recalled a different name,</span>
+<span class="i2">But all sang “Annie Lawrie.”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p117.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="649" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Voice after voice caught up the song,</span>
+<span class="i2">Until its tender passion</span>
+<span class="i0">Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">Their battle-eve confession.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beyond the darkening ocean burned</span>
+<span class="i2">The bloody sunset’s embers,</span>
+<span class="i0">While the Crimean valleys learned</span>
+<span class="i2">How English love remembers.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And once again a fire of hell</span>
+<span class="i2">Rained on the Russian quarters,</span>
+<span class="i0">With scream of shot and burst of shell</span>
+<span class="i2">And bellowing of the mortars!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And Irish Nora’s eyes are dim</span>
+<span class="i2">For a singer dumb and gory;</span>
+<span class="i0">And English Mary mourns for him</span>
+<span class="i2">Who sang of “Annie Lawrie.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest</span>
+<span class="i2">Your truth and valor wearing.</span>
+<span class="i0">The bravest are the tenderest,</span>
+<span class="i2 space-below3">The loving are the daring.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_6.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="55" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Recantation of Galileo.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p120.jpg" alt="The Recantation of Galileo." width="600" height="80" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_f.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="F" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">FAR ’neath the glorious light of the noontide,</span>
+<span class="i7">In a damp dungeon a prisoner lay,</span>
+<span class="i5">Aged and feeble, his failing years numbered,</span>
+<span class="i7">Waiting the fate to be brought him that day.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silence, oppressive with darkness, held durance;</span>
+<span class="i2">Death in the living, or living in death;</span>
+<span class="i0">Crouched on the granite, and burdened with fetters,</span>
+<span class="i2">Inhaling slow poison with each labored breath.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O’er the damp floor of his dungeon there glistened</span>
+<span class="i2">Faintly the rays of a swift-nearing light;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then the sweet jingle of keys, that soon opened</span>
+<span class="i2">The door, and revealed a strange scene to his sight.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the red glare of the flickering torches,</span>
+<span class="i2">Held by the gray-gowned soldiers of God,</span>
+<span class="i0">Gathered a group that the world will remember</span>
+<span class="i2">Long ages after we sleep ’neath the sod.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Draped in their robes of bright scarlet and purple,</span>
+<span class="i2">Bearing aloft the gold emblems of Rome,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stood the chief priests of the papal dominion,</span>
+<span class="i2">Under the shadow of Peter’s proud dome,</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p121.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="455" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By the infallible pontiff commanded,</span>
+<span class="i2">From his own lips their directions received;</span>
+<span class="i0">Sent to demand of the wise Galileo</span>
+<span class="i2">Denial of all the great truths he believed,&mdash;</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Before the whole world to give up his convictions,</span>
+<span class="i2">Because the great church said the world had not moved;</span>
+<span class="i0">Then to swear, before God, that his science was idle,</span>
+<span class="i2">And truth was unknown to the facts he had proved.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So, loosing his shackles, they bade the sage listen</span>
+<span class="i2">To words from the mouth of the vicar of God:</span>
+<span class="i0">“Recant thy vile doctrines, and life we will give thee:</span>
+<span class="i2">Adhere, and thy road to the grave is soon trod!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His doctrines&mdash;the truth, as proud Rome has acknowledged&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">On low, bended knee, in that vault he renounced;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet with joy in their eyes, the high-priests retiring,</span>
+<span class="i2">“Confinement for life,” as his sentence pronounced.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But as they left him, their malice rekindled</span>
+<span class="i2">Fires that their threats had subdued in his breast:</span>
+<span class="i0">Clanking his chains, with fierce ardor he muttered,</span>
+<span class="i2 space-below3">“But it <i>does</i> move, and tyrants can ne’er make it rest.”</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_7.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="58" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Belshazzar.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p124.jpg" alt="Belshazzar." width="300" height="89" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">THE midnight hour was drawing on;</span>
+<span class="i6">Flushed in repose lay Babylon;</span>
+<span class="i6">But in the palace of the king</span>
+<span class="i6">The herd of courtiers shout and sing.</span>
+<span class="i0">There, in his royal banquet hall,</span>
+<span class="i0">Belshazzar holds high festival.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The servants sit in glittering rows,</span>
+<span class="i0">The beakers are drained, the red wine flows;</span>
+<span class="i0">The beakers clash and the servants sing,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">A pleasing sound to the moody king.</span>
+<span class="i0">The king’s cheeks flush and his wild eyes shine,</span>
+<span class="i0">His spirit waxes bold with wine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Until, by maddening passion stung,</span>
+<span class="i0">He scoffs at God with impious tongue;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his proud heart swells as he wildly raves,</span>
+<span class="i0">’Mid shouts of applause from his fawning slaves.</span>
+<span class="i0">He spoke the word, and his eyes flashed flame!</span>
+<span class="i0">The ready servants went and came;</span>
+<span class="i0">Vessels of massive gold they bore,</span>
+<span class="i0">Of Jehovah’s temple the plundered store.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then seizing a consecrated cup,</span>
+<span class="i0">The king in his fury fills it up;</span>
+<span class="i0">He fills, and hastily drains it dry;</span>
+<span class="i0">From his foaming lips leaps forth the cry,</span>
+<span class="i0">“Jehovah, at Thee my scorn I fling!</span>
+<span class="i0">I am Belshazzar, Babylon’s king.”</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet scarce had the impious words been said,</span>
+<span class="i0">When the king’s heart shrank with secret dread;</span>
+<span class="i0">Suddenly died the shout and yell,</span>
+<span class="i0">A deathlike hush on the tumult fell.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p125.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="576" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And see! and see! on the white wall high</span>
+<span class="i0">The form of a hand went slowly by,</span>
+<span class="i0">And wrote&mdash;and wrote in sight of all</span>
+<span class="i0">Letters of fire upon the wall!</span>
+<span class="i0">The king sat still, with a stony look,</span>
+<span class="i0">His trembling knees with terror shook;</span>
+<span class="i0">The menial throng nor spoke nor stirred;</span>
+<span class="i0">Fear froze the blood,&mdash;no sound was heard.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The magicians came, but none of all</span>
+<span class="i0">Could read the writing on the wall.</span>
+<span class="i0">At length to solve those words of flame,</span>
+<span class="i0">Fearless, but meek, the prophet came.</span>
+<span class="i0">One glance he gave, and all was clear.</span>
+<span class="i0">“King! there is reason in thy fear.</span>
+<span class="i0">Those words proclaim, thy empire ends,</span>
+<span class="i0">The day of woe and wrath impends.</span>
+<span class="i0">Weighed in the balance, wanting found,</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou and thy empire strike the ground!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That night, by the servants of his train,</span>
+<span class="i0">Belshazzar, the mighty king, was slain!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Liberty.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p128.jpg" alt="Liberty." width="250" height="103" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_w.jpg" width="50" height="61" alt="W" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">WITH what pride I used</span>
+<span class="i6">To walk these hills, and look up to my God,</span>
+<span class="i0">And bless him that it was so! I loved</span>
+<span class="i0">Its very storms. I have sat</span>
+<span class="i0">In my boat at night when, midway o’er the lake,</span>
+<span class="i0">The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge</span>
+<span class="i0">The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed</span>
+<span class="i0">The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled</span>
+<span class="i0">To see him shake his lightnings o’er my head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And think I had no master save his own.</span>
+<span class="i0">You know the jutting cliff round which a track</span>
+<span class="i0">Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow</span>
+<span class="i0">To such another one, with scanty room</span>
+<span class="i0">For two abreast to pass? O’ertaken there</span>
+<span class="i0">By the mountain blast, I’ve laid me flat along,</span>
+<span class="i0">And while gust followed gust more furiously,</span>
+<span class="i0">As if to sweep me o’er the horrid brink,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I have thought of other lands, whose storms</span>
+<span class="i0">Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just</span>
+<span class="i0">Have wished me there&mdash;the thought that mine was free</span>
+<span class="i0">Has checked that wish; and I have raised my head,</span>
+<span class="i0">And cried in thraldrom to that furious wind,</span>
+<span class="i0">Blow on! This is the land of liberty!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p129.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="595" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Fishermen.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p131.jpg" alt="The Fishermen." width="350" height="75" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_h.jpg" width="40" height="64" alt="H" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">HURRAH! the seaward breezes</span>
+<span class="i7">Sweep down the bay amain.</span>
+<span class="i5">Heave up, my lads, the anchor!</span>
+<span class="i7">Run up the sail again!</span>
+<span class="i0">Leave to the lubber landsmen</span>
+<span class="i2">The rail-car and the steed;</span>
+<span class="i0">The stars of heaven shall guide us,</span>
+<span class="i2">The breath of heaven shall speed.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the hill-top looks the steeple,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the lighthouse from the sand;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the scattered pines are waving</span>
+<span class="i2">Their farewell from the land.</span>
+<span class="i0">One glance, my lads, behind us,</span>
+<span class="i2">For the homes we leave one sigh,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere we take the change and chances</span>
+<span class="i2">Of the ocean and the sky.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, brothers, for the icebergs</span>
+<span class="i2">Of frozen Labrador,</span>
+<span class="i0">Floating spectral in the moonshine,</span>
+<span class="i2">Along the low, black shore!</span>
+<span class="i0">Where like snow the gannet’s feathers</span>
+<span class="i2">On Brador’s rocks are shed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the noisy murr are flying,</span>
+<span class="i2">Like black scuds, overhead;</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where in mist the rock is hiding,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the sharp reef lurks below,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the white squall smites in summer,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the autumn tempests blow;</span>
+<span class="i0">Where, through gray and rolling vapor,</span>
+<span class="i2">From evening unto morn,</span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand boats are hailing,</span>
+<span class="i2">Horn answering unto horn.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hurrah for the Red Island,</span>
+<span class="i2">With the white cross on its crown!</span>
+<span class="i0">Hurrah for Meccatina,</span>
+<span class="i2">And its mountains bare and brown!</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the caribou’s tall antlers</span>
+<span class="i2">O’er the dwarf-wood freely toss,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the footstep of the mickmack</span>
+<span class="i2">Has no sound upon the moss.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There we’ll drop our lines, and gather</span>
+<span class="i2">Old Ocean’s treasures in,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where’er the mottled mackerel</span>
+<span class="i2">Turns up a steel-dark fin.</span>
+<span class="i0">The sea’s our field of harvest,</span>
+<span class="i2">Its scaly tribes our grain;</span>
+<span class="i0">We’ll reap the teeming waters</span>
+<span class="i2">As at home they reap the plain!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our wet hands spread the carpet,</span>
+<span class="i2">And light the hearth of home;</span>
+<span class="i0">From our fish, as in the old time,</span>
+<span class="i2">The silver coin shall come.</span>
+<span class="i0">As the demon fled the chamber</span>
+<span class="i2">Where the fish of Tobit lay,</span>
+<span class="i0">So ours from all our dwellings</span>
+<span class="i2">Shall frighten Want away.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p133.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="405" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though the mist upon our jackets</span>
+<span class="i2">In the bitter air congeals,</span>
+<span class="i0">And our lines wind stiff and slowly</span>
+<span class="i2">From off the frozen reels,</span>
+<span class="i0">Though the fog be dark around us,</span>
+<span class="i2">And the storm blow high and loud,</span>
+<span class="i0">We will whistle down the wild wind,</span>
+<span class="i2">And laugh beneath the cloud!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the darkness as in daylight,</span>
+<span class="i2">On the water as on land,</span>
+<span class="i0">God’s eye is looking on us,</span>
+<span class="i2">And beneath us is his hand!</span>
+<span class="i0">Death will find us soon or later,</span>
+<span class="i2">On the deck or in the cot;</span>
+<span class="i0">And we cannot meet him better</span>
+<span class="i2">Than in working out our lot.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! The west wind</span>
+<span class="i2">Comes freshening down the bay,</span>
+<span class="i0">The rising sails are filling,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i2">Give way, my lads, give way!</span>
+<span class="i0">Leave the coward landsman clinging</span>
+<span class="i2">To the dull earth, like a weed.</span>
+<span class="i0">The stars of heaven shall guide us,</span>
+<span class="i2">The breath of heaven shall speed!</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Excelsior.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p136.jpg" alt="Excelsior." width="250" height="82" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">THE shades of night were falling fast,</span>
+<span class="i5">As through an Alpine village passed</span>
+<span class="i5">A youth, who bore, ’mid snow and ice,</span>
+<span class="i5">A banner, with the strange device,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His brow was sad; his eye, beneath,</span>
+<span class="i0">Flashed like a falchion from its sheath;</span>
+<span class="i0">And like a silver clarion rung</span>
+<span class="i0">The accents of that unknown tongue,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In happy homes he saw the light</span>
+<span class="i0">Of household fires gleam warm and bright.</span>
+<span class="i0">Above, the spectral glaciers shone;</span>
+<span class="i0">And from his lips escaped a groan,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Try not the pass!” the old man said;</span>
+<span class="i0">“Dark lowers the tempest overhead!</span>
+<span class="i0">The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”</span>
+<span class="i0">And loud that clarion voice replied,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p137.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="619" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Oh! stay,” the maiden said, “and rest</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy weary head upon this breast!”</span>
+<span class="i0">A tear stood in his bright blue eye;</span>
+<span class="i0">But still he answered, with a sigh,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Beware the pine-tree’s withered branch!</span>
+<span class="i0">Beware the awful avalanche!”</span>
+<span class="i0">This was the peasant’s last good-night.</span>
+<span class="i0">A voice replied, far up the height,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At break of day, as heavenward</span>
+<span class="i0">The pious monks of St. Bernard</span>
+<span class="i0">Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,</span>
+<span class="i0">A voice cried, through the startled air,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A traveller by the faithful hound,</span>
+<span class="i0">Half buried in the snow, was found,</span>
+<span class="i0">Still grasping in his hand of ice</span>
+<span class="i0">The banner with the strange device,</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There, in the twilight cold and gray,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay;</span>
+<span class="i0">And from the sky, serene and far,</span>
+<span class="i0">A voice fell, like a falling star,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i12">Excelsior!</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Soldier.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p140.jpg" alt="The Soldier." width="250" height="63" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_f.jpg" width="50" height="62" alt="F" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">FOR gold the merchant ploughs &nbsp;&nbsp;the&nbsp;main,</span>
+<span class="i5">The farmer ploughs the manor;</span>
+<span class="i3">But glory is the soldier’s prize,</span>
+<span class="i5">The soldier’s wealth is honor.</span>
+<span class="i0">The brave poor soldier ne’er despise;</span>
+<span class="i2">Nor count him as a stranger;</span>
+<span class="i0">Remember, he’s his country’s stay</span>
+<span class="i2">In day and hour o’ danger.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p141.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="378" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">John Maynard.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p143.jpg" alt="John Maynard." width="300" height="69" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t_apos.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="'T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">TWAS on Lake Erie’s broad expanse,</span>
+<span class="i7">One bright midsummer day,</span>
+<span class="i5">The gallant steamer, Ocean Queen,</span>
+<span class="i7">Swept proudly on her way.</span>
+<span class="i0">Bright faces clustered on the deck,</span>
+<span class="i2">Or, leaning o’er the side,</span>
+<span class="i0">Watched carelessly the feathery foam</span>
+<span class="i2">That flecked the rippling tide.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A seaman sought the captain’s side,</span>
+<span class="i2">A moment whispered low:</span>
+<span class="i0">The captain’s swarthy face grew pale;</span>
+<span class="i2">He hurried down below.</span>
+<span class="i0">Alas, too late! Though quick and sharp</span>
+<span class="i2">And clear his orders came,</span>
+<span class="i0">No human efforts could avail</span>
+<span class="i2">To quench th’ insidious flame.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The bad news quickly reached the deck,</span>
+<span class="i2">It sped from lip to lip,</span>
+<span class="i0">And ghastly faces everywhere</span>
+<span class="i2">Looked from the doomed ship.</span>
+<span class="i0">“Is there no hope, no chance of life?”</span>
+<span class="i2">A hundred lips implore.</span>
+<span class="i0">“But one,” the captain made reply;</span>
+<span class="i2">“To run the ship on shore.”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A sailor whose heroic soul</span>
+<span class="i2">That hour should yet reveal,</span>
+<span class="i0">By name John Maynard, Eastern born,</span>
+<span class="i2">Stood calmly at the wheel.</span>
+<span class="i0">“Head her southeast!” the captain shouts,</span>
+<span class="i2">Above the smothered roar,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">“Head her southeast without delay!</span>
+<span class="i2">Make for the nearest shore!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">John Maynard watched the nearing flames,</span>
+<span class="i2">But still, with steady hand,</span>
+<span class="i0">He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly</span>
+<span class="i2">He steered the ship to land.</span>
+<span class="i0">“John Maynard, can you still hold out?”</span>
+<span class="i2">He heard the captain cry.</span>
+<span class="i0">A voice from out the stifling smoke</span>
+<span class="i2">Faintly responds, “Ay, ay!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But half a mile! A hundred hands</span>
+<span class="i2">Stretch eagerly to shore.</span>
+<span class="i0">But half a mile! That distance sped,</span>
+<span class="i2">Peril shall all be o’er.</span>
+<span class="i0">But half a mile! Yet stay! The flames</span>
+<span class="i2">No longer slowly creep,</span>
+<span class="i0">But gather round the helmsman bold</span>
+<span class="i2">With fierce, impetuous sweep.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“John Maynard,” with an anxious voice,</span>
+<span class="i2">The captain cries once more,</span>
+<span class="i0">“Stand by the wheel five minutes yet,</span>
+<span class="i2">And we will reach the shore.”</span>
+<span class="i0">Through flames and smoke that dauntless heart</span>
+<span class="i2">Responded firmly still,</span>
+<span class="i0">Unawed, though face to face with death,</span>
+<span class="i2">“With God’s good help, I will!”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p145.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="587" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The flames approach with giant strides,</span>
+<span class="i2">They scorch his hands and brow;</span>
+<span class="i0">One arm disabled seeks his side:</span>
+<span class="i2">Ah, he is conquered now!</span>
+<span class="i0">But no; his teeth are firmly set,</span>
+<span class="i2">He crushes down his pain;</span>
+<span class="i0">His knee upon the stanchion pressed,</span>
+<span class="i2">He guides the ship again.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One moment yet, one moment yet!</span>
+<span class="i2">Brave heart, thy task is o’er!</span>
+<span class="i0">The pebbles grate beneath the keel,</span>
+<span class="i2">The steamer touches shore.</span>
+<span class="i0">Three hundred grateful voices rise</span>
+<span class="i2">In praise to God, that He</span>
+<span class="i0">Hath saved them from the fearful fire</span>
+<span class="i2">And from th’ ingulfing sea.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But where is he, that helmsman bold?</span>
+<span class="i2">The captain saw him reel;</span>
+<span class="i0">His nerveless hands released their task,</span>
+<span class="i2">He sank beside the wheel.</span>
+<span class="i0">The wave received his lifeless corpse,</span>
+<span class="i2">Blackened with smoke and fire.</span>
+<span class="i0">God rest him! Never hero had</span>
+<span class="i2">A nobler funeral pyre.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p>
+<h2><span class="smcap">Excalibur.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p148.jpg" alt="Excalibur." width="200" height="64" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">THEN spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:</span>
+<span class="i5">“The sequel of to-day unsolders all</span>
+<span class="i5">The goodliest fellowship of famous knights</span>
+<span class="i0">Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep</span>
+<span class="i0">They sleep,&mdash;the men I loved. I think that we</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall never more, at any future time,</span>
+<span class="i0">Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,</span>
+<span class="i0">Walking about the gardens and the halls</span>
+<span class="i0">Of Camelot, as in the days that were.</span>
+<span class="i0">I perish by this people which I made,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Though Merlin swear that I should come again</span>
+<span class="i0">To rule once more; but let what will be, be:</span>
+<span class="i0">I am so deeply smitten through the helm</span>
+<span class="i0">That without help I cannot last till morn.</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how</span>
+<span class="i0">In those old days, one summer noon, an arm</span>
+<span class="i0">Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,</span>
+<span class="i0">Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,</span>
+<span class="i0">Holding the sword; and how I rowed across</span>
+<span class="i0">And took it, and have worn it, like a king:</span>
+<span class="i0">And, wheresoever I am sung or told</span>
+<span class="i0">In after-time, this also shall be known:</span>
+<span class="i0">But now delay not: take Excalibur,</span>
+<span class="i0">And fling him far into the middle mere.</span>
+<span class="i0">Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word.”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p151.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="490" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged</span>
+<span class="i0">Among the bulrush beds, and clutched the sword,</span>
+<span class="i0">And strongly wheeled and threw it. The great brand</span>
+<span class="i0">Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon,</span>
+<span class="i0">And flashing round and round, and whirled in an arch,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shot like a streamer of the northern morn,</span>
+<span class="i0">Seen where the moving isles of winter shock</span>
+<span class="i0">By night, with noises of the northern sea.</span>
+<span class="i0">So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur:</span>
+<span class="i0">But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm</span>
+<span class="i0">Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,</span>
+<span class="i0">And caught him by the hilt, and brandished him</span>
+<span class="i0">Three times, and drew him under in the mere.</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">And lightly went the other to the king.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_3.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="57" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Death of Arthur.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p152.jpg" alt="The Death of Arthur." width="450" height="80" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t.jpg" width="50" height="63" alt="T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">THEN saw they how there hove a dusky barge,</span>
+<span class="i5">Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern,</span>
+<span class="i5">Beneath them; and descending they were ware</span>
+<span class="i0">That all the decks were dense with stately forms</span>
+<span class="i0">Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream; by these</span>
+<span class="i0">Three Queens with crowns of gold, and from them rose</span>
+<span class="i0">A cry that shivered to the tingling stars,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, as it were one voice, an agony</span>
+<span class="i0">Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills</span>
+<span class="i0">All night in a waste land, where no one comes,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or hath come since the making of the world.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then murmured Arthur, “Place me in the barge.”</span>
+<span class="i0">So to the barge they came. There those three Queens</span>
+<span class="i0">Put forth their hands, and took the king, and wept.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p153.jpg" alt="_" width="600" height="478" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:</span>
+<span class="i0">“The old order changeth, yielding place to new,</span>
+<span class="i0">And God fulfils himself in many ways,</span>
+<span class="i0">Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.</span>
+<span class="i0">Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?</span>
+<span class="i0">I have lived my life, and that which I have done</span>
+<span class="i0">May He within himself make pure! but thou,</span>
+<span class="i0">If thou shouldst never see my face again,</span>
+<span class="i0">Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer</span>
+<span class="i0">Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice</span>
+<span class="i0">Rise like a fountain for me night and day.</span>
+<span class="i0">For what are men better than sheep or goats</span>
+<span class="i0">That nourish a blind life within the brain,</span>
+<span class="i0">If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer</span>
+<span class="i0">Both for themselves and those who call them friend?</span>
+<span class="i0">For so the whole round earth is every way</span>
+<span class="i0">Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.</span>
+<span class="i0">But now farewell. I am going a long way</span>
+<span class="i0">With these thou seest&mdash;if indeed I go&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)</span>
+<span class="i0">To the island-valley of Avilion,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies</span>
+<span class="i0">Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns</span>
+<span class="i0">And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,</span>
+<span class="i0">Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So said he, and the barge with oar and sail</span>
+<span class="i0">Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan</span>
+<span class="i0">That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">With swarthy webs.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_6.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="55" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p156.jpg" alt="A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea." width="550" height="68" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_a.jpg" width="50" height="59" alt="A" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">A WET sheet and a flowing sea,</span>
+<span class="i7">A wind that follows fast,</span>
+<span class="i5">And fills the white and rustling sail,</span>
+<span class="i7">And bends the gallant mast.</span>
+<span class="i0">And bends the gallant mast, my boys,</span>
+<span class="i2">While, like the eagle free,</span>
+<span class="i0">Away the good ship flies, and leaves</span>
+<span class="i2">Old England on the lee.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, for a soft and gentle wind!</span>
+<span class="i2">I heard a fair one cry;</span>
+<span class="i0">But give to me the swelling breeze,</span>
+<span class="i2">And white waves heaving high.</span>
+<span class="i0">The white waves heaving high, my lads,</span>
+<span class="i2">The good ship tight and free,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The world of waters is our home,</span>
+<span class="i2">And merry men are we.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p157.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="644" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Leap of Curtius.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p159.jpg" alt="The Leap of Curtius." width="500" height="84" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_w.jpg" width="50" height="61" alt="W" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">WITHIN Rome’s forum, suddenly, a wide gap opened in a night,</span>
+<span class="i6">Astounding those who gazed on it,&mdash;a strange, terrific sight.</span>
+<span class="i6">In Senate all their sages met, and, seated in their chairs of state,</span>
+<span class="i6">Their faces blanched with deadly fear, debated long and late.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A sign inimical to Rome, they deemed it,&mdash;a prognostic dire,</span>
+<span class="i0">A visitation from the gods, in token of their ire.</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet how to have their minds resolved, how ascertain in this their need,</span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the shadow of a doubt, if thus it were indeed?</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In silence brooded they awhile, unbroken by a single word,</span>
+<span class="i0">While from the capital without the lightest sounds were heard.</span>
+<span class="i0">Then rose the eldest magistrate, a tall old man, with locks like snow,</span>
+<span class="i0">Straight as a dart, and with an eye that oft had quelled the foe.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And thus, with ripe, sonorous voice, no note or tone of which did shake,</span>
+<span class="i0">Or indicate the wear of time, the aged Nestor spake:</span>
+<span class="i0">“Fathers, the Oracle is nigh: to it then let us promptly send,</span>
+<span class="i0">And at the shrine inquire what this dread marvel doth portend.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“And if to Rome it augurs ill, then ask we, ere it be too late,</span>
+<span class="i0">How we may best avert the doom, and save the sacred state.&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">That state to every Roman dear, as dear as brother, friend, or wife,</span>
+<span class="i0">For which each true-born son would give, if needful, even life.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“For what, O fathers! what were life apart from altar, hearth, and home?</span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, is not all our highest good bound up with that of Rome?</span>
+<span class="i0">And now adjourn we for a space, till three full days have circled round,</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the morning of the fourth, let each one here be found.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then gat they up, and gloomily for such short interval did part,</span>
+<span class="i0">For they were Romans stanch and tried, and sad was every heart.</span>
+<span class="i0">The fourth day dawned, and when they met, the Oracle’s response was known:</span>
+<span class="i0">Something most precious in the chasm to close it must be thrown.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But if <i>un</i>closed it shall remain, thereon shall follow Rome’s decay,</span>
+<span class="i0">And all the splendor of her state shall pale and pass away.</span>
+<span class="i0">Something most precious! What the gift that may prevent the pending fate,</span>
+<span class="i0">What costly offering will the gods indeed propitiate?</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">While this they pondered, lo! a sound of footsteps fell on every ear,</span>
+<span class="i0">And in their midst a Roman youth did presently appear.</span>
+<span class="i0">Apollo’s brow, a mien like Mars, in Beauty’s mould he seemed new-made,</span>
+<span class="i0">As on his golden hair the sun with dazzling dalliance played.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">’Tis Marcus Curtius! Purer blood none there could boast, and none more brave:</span>
+<span class="i0">There stands the youthful patriot, come, a Roman, Rome to save.</span>
+<span class="i0">His own young life, he offers that, yea, volunteers <i>himself</i> to throw</span>
+<span class="i0">Within the cleft to make it close, and stay the heavy woe.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now on horseback, fully armed, behold him, for the hour hath come.</span>
+<span class="i0">The Roman guards keep watch and ward, and beats the muffled drum.</span>
+<span class="i0">The consuls, proctors, soothsayers, within the forum group around,</span>
+<span class="i0">Young Curtius in the saddle sits,&mdash;there yawns the severed ground.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p161.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="650" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Each pulse is stayed. He lifts his helm, and bares his forehead to the sky,</span>
+<span class="i0">And to the broad, blue heaven above upturns his flashing eye.</span>
+<span class="i0">“O Rome, O country best beloved, thou land in which I first drew breath,</span>
+<span class="i0">I render back the life thou gav’st, to rescue <i>thee</i>from death!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then spurring on his gallant steed, a last and brief farewell he said,</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">And leapt within the gaping gulf, <i>which closed above his head</i>.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_1.jpg" alt="_" width="300" height="244" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Ride from Ghent to Aix.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p164.jpg" alt="The Ride from Ghent to Aix." width="600" height="60" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_i.jpg" width="50" height="60" alt="I" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;</span>
+<span class="i6">I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three.</span>
+<span class="i6">“Good speed!” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;</span>
+<span class="i6">“Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping through.</span>
+<span class="i0">Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,</span>
+<span class="i0">And into the midnight we galloped abreast.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace</span>
+<span class="i0">Neck by neck, stride for stride, never changing our place.</span>
+<span class="i0">I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,</span>
+<span class="i0">Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,</span>
+<span class="i0">Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">’Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near</span>
+<span class="i0">Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;</span>
+<span class="i0">At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;</span>
+<span class="i0">At Düffield, ’twas morning, as plain as could be;</span>
+<span class="i0">And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,</span>
+<span class="i0">So Joris broke the silence with, “Yet there is time!”</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p165.jpg" alt="_" width="450" height="582" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At Aorschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,</span>
+<span class="i0">And against him the cattle stood black every one.</span>
+<span class="i0">To stare through the mist at us galloping past,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last,</span>
+<span class="i0">With resolute shoulders, each butting away</span>
+<span class="i0">The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back</span>
+<span class="i0">For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;</span>
+<span class="i0">And one eye’s black intelligence, ever that glance</span>
+<span class="i0">O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the thick, heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon</span>
+<span class="i0">His fierce lips shook upwards on galloping on.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay spur!</span>
+<span class="i0">Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault’s not in her.</span>
+<span class="i0">We’ll remember at Aix!”&mdash;for one heard the quick wheeze</span>
+<span class="i0">Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,</span>
+<span class="i0">And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,</span>
+<span class="i0">As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So we were left galloping, Joris and I,</span>
+<span class="i0">Past Looz and past Tongrés, no cloud in the sky;</span>
+<span class="i0">The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,</span>
+<span class="i0">’Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,</span>
+<span class="i0">And, “Gallop,” gasped Joris, “for Aix is in sight!”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“How they’ll greet us!” And all in a moment his roan</span>
+<span class="i0">Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;</span>
+<span class="i0">And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight</span>
+<span class="i0">Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,</span>
+<span class="i0">With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim</span>
+<span class="i0">And with circles of red for his eye-sockets’ rim.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,</span>
+<span class="i0">Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,</span>
+<span class="i0">Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,</span>
+<span class="i0">Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer;</span>
+<span class="i0">Clapped my hands, laughed and sang,&mdash;any noise, bad or good,</span>
+<span class="i0">Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And all I remember is friends flocking around</span>
+<span class="i0">As I sat with his head ’twixt my knees on the ground,</span>
+<span class="i0">And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,</span>
+<span class="i0">As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,</span>
+<span class="i0">Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)</span>
+<span class="i0 space-below3">Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/detail_2.jpg" alt="_" width="150" height="108" />
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">A Yarn.</span></h2>
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p169.jpg" alt="A Yarn." width="200" height="77" />
+</div><hr class="r25" />
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>
+  <img class="drop-cap" src="images/letter_t_apos.jpg" width="50" height="62" alt="'T" />
+  <p><br /></p>
+</div>
+<span class="i0-d0 drop-cap">TIS Saturday night, and our watch below.</span>
+<span class="i5">What heed we, boys, how the breezes blow,</span>
+<span class="i5">While our cans are brimmed with the sparkling flow?</span>
+<span class="i0">Come, Jack, uncoil, as we pass the grog,</span>
+<span class="i0">And spin us a yarn from memory’s log.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Jack’s brawny chest like the broad sea heaved,</span>
+<span class="i0">While his loving lip to the beaker cleaved;</span>
+<span class="i0">And he drew his tarred and well-saved sleeve</span>
+<span class="i0">Across his mouth, as he drained the can,</span>
+<span class="i0">And thus to his listening mates began:&mdash;</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“When I sailed, a boy, in the schooner Mike,</span>
+<span class="i0">No bigger, I trow, than a marlinespike&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">But I’ve told ye the tale ere now, belike?”</span>
+<span class="i0">“Go on!” each voice re-echoed,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the tar thrice hemmed, and thus he said:&mdash;</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“A stanch-built craft as the waves e’er bore&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">We had loosed our sail for home once more,</span>
+<span class="i0">Freighted full deep from Labrador,</span>
+<span class="i0">When a cloud one night rose on our lee,</span>
+<span class="i0">That the heart of the stoutest quailed to see.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“And voices wild with the winds were blent,</span>
+<span class="i0">As our bark her prow to the waters bent;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the seamen muttered their discontent&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Muttered and nodded ominously&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">But the mate, right carelessly whistled he.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“‘Our bark may never outride the gale.</span>
+<span class="i0">’Tis a pitiless night! The pattering hail</span>
+<span class="i0">Hath coated each spar as ’twere in mail;</span>
+<span class="i0">And our sails are riven before the breeze,</span>
+<span class="i0">While our cordage and shrouds into icicles freeze!’</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Thus spake the skipper beside the mast,</span>
+<span class="i0">While the arrowy sleet fell thick and fast;</span>
+<span class="i0">And our bark drove onward before the blast</span>
+<span class="i0">That goaded the waves, till the angry main</span>
+<span class="i0">Rose up and strove with the hurricane.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Up spake the mate, and his tone was gay,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">‘Shall we at this hour to fear give way?</span>
+<span class="i0">We must labor, in sooth, as well as pray.</span>
+<span class="i0">Out, shipmates, and grapple home yonder sail,</span>
+<span class="i0">That flutters in ribbons before the gale!’</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Loud swelled the tempest, and rose the shriek,</span>
+<span class="i0">‘Save, save! we are sinking! A leak! a leak!’</span>
+<span class="i0">And the hale old skipper’s tawny cheek</span>
+<span class="i0">Was cold, as ’twere sculptured in marble there,</span>
+<span class="i0">And white as the foam or his own white hair.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+    <img src="images/p171.jpg" alt="_" width="500" height="629" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><br /><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“The wind piped shrilly, the wind piped loud,</span>
+<span class="i0">It shrieked ’mong the cordage, it howled in the shroud,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the sleet fell thick from the cold, dun cloud;</span>
+<span class="i0">But high over all, in tones of glee,</span>
+<span class="i0">The voice of the mate rang cheerily,&mdash;</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Now, men, for your wives’ and your sweethearts’ sakes!</span>
+<span class="i0">Cheer, messmates, cheer! Quick! man the brakes!</span>
+<span class="i0">We’ll gain on the leak ere the skipper wakes;</span>
+<span class="i0">And though our peril your hearts appall,</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere dawns the morrow we’ll laugh at the squall.”</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“He railed at the tempest, he laughed at its threats,</span>
+<span class="i0">He played with his fingers like castanets;</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet think not that he, in his mirth, forgets</span>
+<span class="i0">That the plank he is riding this hour at sea</span>
+<span class="i0">May launch him the next to eternity!</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“The white-haired skipper turned away,</span>
+<span class="i0">And lifted his hands, as it were to pray;</span>
+<span class="i0">But his look spoke plainly as look could say,</span>
+<span class="i0">The boastful thought of the Pharisee,&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">‘Thank God, I’m not hardened as others be!’</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“But the morning dawned, and the waves sank low,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the winds, o’erwearied, forebore to blow:</span>
+<span class="i0">And our bark lay there in the golden glow.&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">Flashing she lay in the bright sunshine,</span>
+<span class="i0"><i>An ice-sheathed hulk</i> on the cold, still brine.</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Well, shipmates, my yarn is almost spun&mdash;</span>
+<span class="i0">The cold and the tempest their work had done,</span>
+<span class="i0">And I was the last, lone, living one,</span>
+<span class="i0">Clinging, benumbed, to that wave-girt wreck,</span>
+<span class="i0">While the dead around me bestrewed the deck.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Yea, the dead were round me everywhere!</span>
+<span class="i0">The skipper gray, in the sunlight there,</span>
+<span class="i0">Still lifted his paralyzed hands in prayer;</span>
+<span class="i0">And the mate, whose tones through the darkness leapt,</span>
+<span class="i0">In the silent hush of the morning slept.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“Oh, bravely he perished who sought to save</span>
+<span class="i0">Our storm-tossed bark from the pitiless wave,</span>
+<span class="i0">And her crew from a yawning and fathomless grave,</span>
+<span class="i0">Crying, Messmates, cheer!’ with a bright, glad smile,</span>
+<span class="i0">And praying, ‘Be merciful, God!’ the while.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“True to his trust, to his last chill gasp,</span>
+<span class="i0">The helm lay clutched in his stiff, cold grasp:</span>
+<span class="i0">You might scarcely in death undo the clasp;</span>
+<span class="i0">And his crisp, brown locks were dank and thin,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the icicles hung from his bearded chin.</span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">“My timbers have weathered, since, many a gale;</span>
+<span class="i0">And when life’s tempests this hulk assail,</span>
+<span class="i0">And the binnacle-lamp in my breast burns pale,</span>
+<span class="i0">‘Cheer, messmates, cheer!’ to my heart I say,</span>
+<span class="i0">‘We must labor, in sooth, as well as pray.’”</span>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="full" />
+<div class="transnote bbox">
+<p class="f120 space-above1">Transcriber Notes:</p>
+<hr class="r5" />
+<p class="indent">Uncertain or antiquated spellings or ancient words were not corrected.</p>
+<p class="indent">The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up stanzas.</p>
+<p class="indent">Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected
+                  unless otherwise noted.</p>
+<p class="indent">Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations
+    in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.</p>
+<p class="indent">In TOC, corrected "Excelsior" reference from 137 to 136.</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="r25" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
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