Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the northeast; The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain She shuddered and paused like a frightened steed, "Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale, That ever wind did blow." He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast. "Oh, father! I hear the church-bells ring, Oh, say, what may it be?" ""Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast! And he steered for the open sea. "Oh, father! I hear the sound of guns, Oh, say, what may it be?" "Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea!" "Oh, father! I see a gleaming light, But the father answered never a word, Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That savéd she might be; And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave On the lake of Galilee. And fast through the midnight dark and drear, Toward the reef of Norman's Woe. And ever, the fitful gusts between The breakers were right beneath her bows, And a whooping billow swept the crew She struck where the white and fleecy waves But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach, To see the form of a maiden fair Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe! 82. MARCO BOZZARIS.-Fitz Greene Halleck. Effusive and Explosive O., medium pitch, varied melody. The Turk was dreaming of the hour In dreams, through camp and court he bore In dreams, his song of triumph heard; As Eden's garden bird. An hour passed on,- the Turk awoke; He woke to hear his sentries shriek "TO ARMS! they come! the GREEK! the GREEK! And death-shots falling thick and fast They fought, like brave men, long and well; Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won; Then saw in death his eyelids close, Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Come to the bridal chamber, Death! Come to the mother when she feels With banquet song, and dance, and wine,— The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, The thanks of millions yet to be. Greece nurtured in her glory's time, We tell thy doom without a sigh; That were not born to die! 83. THE LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP.-Henry W. Longfellow. Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, She starts-she moves-she seems to feel And, spurning with her foot the ground, And lo! from the assembled crowd There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, "Take her, O bridegroom old and gray; How beautiful she is! how fair She lies within those arms, that press Of tenderness and watchful care! Through wind and wave, right onward steer! Are not the signs of doubt or fear. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State, With all the hopes of future years, |