Puslapio vaizdai
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And there were charts and soundings, made
By Anson, Cook, and Bligh;
Fractures of coral from the deep,
And storm-stones from the sky;
Shells from the shores of gay Brazil;
Stuffed birds, and fishes dry.

Old Simon had an orphan been,
No relative had he:

E'en from his childhood was he seen
A haunter of the quay;
So at the age of raw thirteen,
He took him to the sea.

Four years on board a merchantman
He sailed-a growing lad;
And all the isles of Western Ind,
In endless summer clad,

He knew, from pastoral St. Lucie,
To palmy Trinidad.

But sterner life was in his thoughts,
When 'mid the sea-fight's jar,
Stooped Victory from the battered shrouds,
To crown a British tar ;-
'Twas then he went-a volunteer-
On board a man-of-war.

Through forty years of storm and shine,
He ploughed the changeful deep;
From where, beneath the tropic line,
The winged fishes leap,

To where frost rocks the Polar Seas,
To everlasting sleep.

I recollect the brave old man

Methinks

upon my view

He comes again-his varnished hat,
Striped shirt, and jacket blue;
His bronzed and weather-beaten cheek,
Keen eye, and plaited queue.

2 Two islands in Windward group, West Indies.

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Oft would he tell, how, under Smith,
Upon the Egyptian strand,
Eager to beat the boastful French,
They joined the men on land,
And plied their deadly shots, intrenched
Behind their bags of sand:

And when he told, how, through the Sound,
With Nelson1 in his might,
They passed the Cronberg batteries,

To quell the Dane in fight,—
His voice with vigour filled again!

His veteran eye with light!

But chiefly of hot Trafalgar

The brave old man would speak;
And when he showed his oaken stump,
A glow suffused his cheek,

While his eye filled-for wound on wound
Had left him worn and weak.

Ten years in vigorous old age,
Within that cot he dwelt,

Tranquil as falls the snow on snow

Life's lot to him was dealt;

1 Lord Nelson, a celebrated English Admiral, born in 1758, entered the navy when 12 years of age, rapidly gained distinction, and was in 1797 made Rear-Admiral. He annihilated the fleet which had conveyed the French into Egypt, in the bay of Aboukir, 1799. He as Vice-Admiral conducted the fleet against Copenhagen, 1801. He destroyed the united French and Spanish fleets at Cape Trafalgar, 21st Oct., 1805, but paid for the victory with his life.

But came infirmity at length,
And slowly o'er him stealt.

We missed him on our seaward walk.
The children went no more
To listen to his evening talk,
Beside the cottage door;-
Grim palsy held him to the bed,
Which health eschewed before.

'Twas harvest time ;-day after day
Beheld him weaker grow;
Day, after day, his labouring pulse
Became more faint and slow;
For, in the chambers of his heart,
Life's fire was burning low.

Thus did he weaken and he wane,
Till frail as frail could be;
But duly at the hour which brings
Homeward the bird and bee,

He made them prop him in his couch,
To gaze upon the sea.

And now he watched the moving boat,
And now the moveless ships,
And now the western hills remote,
With gold upon their tips,
As ray by ray the mighty sun
Went down in calm eclipse.

Welcome as homestead to the feet
Of pilgrim, travel-tired,

Death to old Simon's dwelling came,
A thing to be desired;

And, breathing peace to all around,
The man of war expired.

1. Why did our tar build his cottage on the mount?

2. Why placed he a vane on the roof? 3. What plants were found in his garden? 4. What were hung round his cabin ? 5. Name the three celebrated navigators? 6. What curiosities had he collected ? 7. Give us the history of Simon when a boy.

Moir.

8. Where sailed he when serving his time?

9. What "sterner life" is meant ?
10. Where went he then ?

11. Into what climes had he sailed during the forty years?

12. Give the appearance of the brave old man,

13. What seat was his favourite one, and why?

14. Through what instrument did he frequently look?

15. What had happened when he was under Smith?

16. Where and when were the naval battles fought?

17. When did his cheek glow with pride? 18. How many years of health had he in his cottage?

19. What disease at last made him bedfast?

20. Tell me how our poor old tar was when harvest came round.

21. What hour brings home the bird and the bee?

22. What was done to the brave old man then?

23. On what did he gaze when propped in his chair?

24. What came welcome to old Simon's cabin?

25. Was not Simon kind as well as brave?

26. Do we find cruelty of disposition and kindness often combined?

27. Tell me why it is we love men like old Simon?

XXIII. REMEMBRANCES.

I REMEMBER, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window, where the sun,
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;-
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember,
The roses red and white,
The violets and the lily-cups-
Those flowers made of light;
The lilacs where the robins built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum, on his birth-day-
The tree is living yet!

1 remember, I remember,

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air would rush as fresh
As swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers, then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my

brow!

I remember, I remember,

The fir trees dark and high ;

I used to think their slender spires,
Were close against the sky!
It was a childish ignorance,-
But now 'tis little joy

--

To know I'm further off from heaven,
Than when I was a boy.

1. What says the poet of the house, the summer sun, &c.?

2. Did he weary of the long summer day

then?

3. How passes he the night now?

4. What says he of the flowers that grew around his youthful home?

Hood.

5. Why say the "tree is living yet"?
6. How did he enjoy the swing when a

boy?

What did his simple youthful mind imagine concerning the fir-trees?

8. Does his maturer knowledge on this point make him happier?

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TREAD Softly-bow the head-
In rev'rent silence bow-

No passing bell doth toll,
Yet an immortal soul

Is passing now.

Stranger! however great,

With lowly rev'rence bow;
There's one in that poor shed-
One by that paltry bed-
Greater than thou.

Beneath that beggar's roof,

Lo! death doth keep his state,
Enter-no crowds attend-

Enter-no guards defend
This palace gate.

That pavement, damp and cold,
No smiling courtiers tread;
One silent woman stands,

Lifting with

meagre hands

A dying head.

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