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8. He springs from his hammock, || he flies to the deck;
Amazement confronts him || with images dire ;
The masts fly in splinters, || the shrouds are on fire! 9. Like mountains the billows || tumultuously swell,
In vain the lost wretch' || calls on mercy to save;
And the death-angel flaps || his broad wings o'er the wave. 10. Oh, Sailor-boy?! || woe to thy dream of delight!
Thy parents' fond pressure, || and love's honeyed kiss ? 11. Oh, Sailor-boy'! Sailor-boy'! || never again
Shall home, love, or kindred, || thy wishes repay;
Full many a score fathom, || thy frame shall decay. 12. No tomb shall e'er plead || to remembrance for thee',
Or redeem form or fame || from the merciless surge;
And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge. 13. On beds of green sea-flower || thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones ll the red coral shall grow;
And every part suit || to thy mansion below.
Åná still the vast waters || above thee shall roll ;
MARY, THE MAID OF THE INN.
Seem a heart overcharged to express ?
The composure of settled distress.
Cold and hunger' awake not her care;
Has the deadly pale hue of despair.
3. Yet cheerful and happy', nor distant the day,
Poor Mary, the maniac, has been':
As Mary, the Maid of the Inn.
As she welcomed them in with a smile;
When the wind whistled down the dark aisle. 5. She loved'; and young Richard had settled the day',
And she hoped to be happy for life:
That she was too good for his wife. 6. 'Twas in autumn', and stormy and dark was the night,
And fast were the windows and door;
They listened to hear the wind roar.
To hear the wind whistle without.” "A fine night for the Abbey'!” his comrade replied: “Methinks a man's courage would now well be tried,
Who would wander the ruins about. 8. “I myself, like a school-boy, should tremble to hear
The hoarse ivy shake over my head;
For this wind might awaken the dead.” 9. “I'll wager a dinner,” the other one cried,
“That Mary' would venture there now":"
And faint if she saw a white cow!”
His companion exclaimed with a smile'; “I shall win", for I know she will venture there now, And earn a new bonnet, by bringing a bough
From the alder that grows in the aisle.” 11. With fearless good-humor did Mary comply',
And her way to the Abbey she bent;
She shivered with cold as she went. 12. O'er the path so well known, still proceeded the maid,
Where the Abbey rose dim on the sight;
Yet the ruins were lonely and wild, and their shade
Seemed to deepen the gloom of the night.
Howled dismally round the old pile;
Where the alder-tree grew in the aisle.
And hastily gathered the bough;
And her heart panted fearfully now!
She listened'; naught else could she hear.
Of footsteps approaching her near.
She crept, to conceal herself there;
And between them, a corpse did they bear. 17. Then Mary could feel her heart-blood curdle cold!
Again the rough wind hurried by;
She fell; and expected to die! 18. “Stop! the hat!” he exclaims; “Nay', come on, and fast hide
The dead body\!” his comrade replies.
And fast through the Abbey she flies!
She look'd horribly eager around":
Unable to utter a sound.
For a moment, the hat met her view: Her eyes from that object convulsively start, For, 0 Heaven'! what cold horror thrilled through her heart,
When the name of her Richard she knew!
His gibbet is now to be seen;
LESSON XXXIII. 3 3
MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR.
1. Yes', the year is growing old,
And his eye is pale and bleared;
Solemnly and slow';
A sound of woe!
The winds like anthems roll”;
Tell their beads in drops of rain,
All in vain!!
The foolish, fond Old Year',
A king',-a king!
Bids the old man rejoice!!
Gentle' and low..
And the voice gentle and low
Do not laugh at me!
Cold in his arms it lies,
No mist or stain'!
And the forests utter a moan,
Vex not his ghost!
10. Then comes, with an awful roar,
Gathering and sounding on',
Sweep the red leaves away!
And be swept away !
There shall be a darker day;
LESSON XXXIV.9 4
THE SOLDIER'S REST.
1. SOLDIER', rest\! || thy warfare o'er',
Sleep the sleep || that knows not breaking;
Days of danger', || nights of waking',
Hands unseen || thy couch are strewing,
Every sense || in slumber dewing.
Morn of toil', || nor night of waking!
Armor's clang, or war-steed champing,
Mustering clan', or squadron tramping.
At the daybreak from the fallow,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
These words mean, “Lord, have meroy! Christ, have mercy!*