They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn Wi' a' the speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway Upon a Wodensday. They hadna been a week, a week In Noroway, but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway Began aloud to say: "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's gowd And a' our queenè's fee." "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud! Fu' loud I hear ye lie! "For I hae brought as much white monie As gane my men and me, And I brought a half-fou o' gude red gowd "Make ready, make ready, my merry men a'! "I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we 'll come to harm." They hadna sailed a league, a league, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew ioud The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, And the waves came o'er the broken ship "O where will I get a gude sailor ́ ́ O hère am I, a sailor gude, He hadna gane a step, a step, A step, but barely ane, When a boult flew out of our goodly ship, And the salt sea it came in. Gae fetch a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side And let na the sea come in." They fetched a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And they wapped them roun' that gude ship's side, But still the sea came in. O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords To weet their cork-heeled shoon! But lang or a' the play was played, They wat their hats aboon. And mony was the feather-bed And mony was the gude lord's son That never mair cam hame. The ladyes wrange their fingers white A' for the sake of their true loves, O lang, lang may the ladyes sit, And lang, lang may the maidens sit, O forty miles off Aberdeen 'T is fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. ANONYMOUS. Old Ballad ARIEL'S SONG. COME unto these yellow sands, Courtsied when you have and kiss'd Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Burthen: Hark, hark! Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark : Bow-wow. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.1 The Tempest. 1 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. Very little is known in regard to Shakespeare's life. He was the son of John and Mary Shakespeare, of Stratford-upon-Avon, where he was born about April 23, 1564. In his eighteenth year he married Anne Hathaway, of Shottery, a neighboring village. His wife was eight years older than he, and tradition says that the marriage was an unhappy one. About the year 1587 he left Stratford to seek his fortune in London as an actor and playwright. In 1589 he became a partner in the Blackfriars Theatre. He prospered in London, nade money, and secured a competence, purchased property, about the beginning of the seventeenth century, in Stratford, and soon after returned there to live, a rich man for those days. There in ais native village he died of a violent fever on April 23, 1616, his fifty-third birthday, probably, and while still in the prime of life. He was buried in the parish church and his tomb remains unaltered. Between his arrival in London and his death at Stratford he wrote the marvellous plays, and hardly less marvellous sonnets, which prove him to have been the greatest writer of any age, nation, or language. The poems in this collection are all 'aken from the plays in which they occur. A SEA DIRGE. FULL fathom five thy father lies; Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them, - Ding-dong, beil. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. The Tempest. ARIEL'S SONG. WHERE the bee sucks there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. The Tempest. SONG. PACK, clouds, away, and welcome day, |