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“ SHOULD NOT THE DOVE so white, Follow THE SEAMEW'S FLIGHT. - Page 26

Death closed her mild blue eyes, The snow fell hissing in the brine,
Under that tower she lies;

And the billows frothed like yeast.
Ne'er shall the sun arise
On such another !

Down came the storm, and smote amain

The vessel in its strength ; “Still grew my bosom then, She shuddered and paused, like a frightStill as a stagnant fen!

ed steed, Hateful to me were men,

Then leaped her cable's length.
The sunlight hateful !
In the vast forest here,

“Come hither ! come hither! my little Clad in my warlike gear,

daughter, Fell I upon my spear,

And do not tremble so ; 0, death was grateful !

For I can weather the roughest gale

That ever wind did blow."
“ Thus, seamed with many scars,
Bursting these prison bars,
Up to its native stars

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's My soul ascended !

coat There from the flowing bowl

Against the stinging blast ; Deep drinks the warrior's soul,

He cut a rope from a broken spar, Skool ! to the Northland ! skoal !And bound her to the mast. Thus the tale ended.

O father! I hear the church-bells ring,

O say, what may it be?” THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. “'T is a fog-bell on a rock-bound

coast !” It was the schooner Hesperus,

And he steered for the open sea.
That sailed the wintry sea ;
And the skipper had taken his little “O father! I hear the sound of guns,

daughter,
To bear him company.

O say, what may it be?

“Some ship in distress, that cannot live Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,

In such an angry sea !”
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn “O father ! I see a gleaming light,
buds,

O say, what may it be?
That ope in the month of May.

But the father answered never a word,

A frozen corpse was he.
The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, And he watched how the veering flaw With his face turned to the skies, did blow

The lantern gleamed through the gieamThe smoke now West, now South. ing snow

On his fixed and glassy eyes. Then up and spake an old Sailor,

Had sailed to the Spanish Main, Then the maiden clasped her hands and “I pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane.

That saved she might be ;

And she thought of Christ, who stilled “Last night, the moon had a golden

the wave, ring,

On the Lake of Galilee. And to-night no moon we see !” The skipper, he blew a whiff from his And fast through the midnight dark and pipe,

drear, And a scornful laugh laughed he. Through the whistling sleet and

snow, Colder and louder blew the wind, Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept A gale from the Northeast,

Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe

prayed

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