45. THE MINSTREL-BOY. THE Minstrel-boy to the war is gone, The Minstrel fell! but the foeman's chain and free, T. MOORE. 46. NIGHT. IGHT is the time for rest; NIGHT How sweet, when labours close, To gather round an aching breast Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Upon our own delightful bed! Night is the time for dreams; The gay romance of life; When truth that is, and truth that seems, Mix in fantastic strife; Ah! visions less beguiling far, Than waking dreams by daylight are! Night is the time for toil; To plough the classic field, Night is the time to weep; To wet with unseen tears Those graves of memory, where sleep Hopes that were angels at their birth, Night is the time to pray; Our Saviour oft withdrew To desert mountains far away; So will his followers do, Steal from the throng to haunts untrod, Night is the time for death; When all around is peace, Calmly to yield the weary breath, Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign J. MONTGOMERY. THE shades of night were falling fast, His brow was sad; his eye beneath The accents of that unknown tongue, In happy homes he saw the light "Try not the Pass!" the old man said: "O stay," the maiden said, "and rest "Beware the pine-tree's wither'd branch; Beware the awful avalanche ! " This was the peasant's last Good-night; At break of day, as heavenward A voice cried through the startled air, A traveller, by a faithful hound, There in the twilight cold and gray, LONGFELLOW. 48. THE SAILOR'S MOTHER. ONE morning (raw it was and wet, A foggy day in winter time,) A woman on the road I met, Not old, though something past her prime; And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait. The ancient spirit is not dead; Old times, thought I, are breathing there; Such strength, a dignity so fair : She begg'd an alms, like one in poor estate; Protected from this cold damp air?" "I had a son, who many a day Sail'd on the seas, but he is dead; In Denmark he was cast away: And I have travell'd weary miles to see If aught which he had own'd might still remain for me. "The bird and cage they both were his : 'Twas my son's bird; and neat and trim He kept it: many voyages This singing-bird had gone with him; When last he sail'd, he left the bird behind; From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his mind. "He to a fellow-lodger's care Had left it, to be watched and fed, - there I found it when my son was dead; And now, God help me for my little wit! I bear it with me, Sir;-he took so much delight in it." WORDSWORTH. |