« ZurückWeiter »
In every cottage porch with garlands green,
4. And once, alas ! nor in a distant hour,
Another voice shall come from yonder tower ;
5. And such is Human Life ;-so gliding on,
It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!
Caudle-cup-i.e., A cup for holding caudle, which was a
liquor made with water, oatmeal, spices, and a small
dash of wine, used on the occasion of a birth in a family. Gossips.—Gossip comes from the Anglo-Saxon god-sibbe,
meaning kin through God. “Our Christian ancestors, understanding a spiritual affinity to grow between the parents and such as undertook for the child at baptism, called each other by the name of god-sib—that is, kin through God; and the child, in like manner, called such his godfather and godmother.” The word is now used to describe any one who repeats the news or small scandal of society. Holy earth.—Churchyards in England are consecrated by
special religious services. Wandering tribes.-Such as the Bedouin Arabs, or other
nomadic tribes, who delight in telling tales when encamped round the evening fire.
THE BELL OF THE ATLANTIC.
[Mrs. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY was an American lady, who wrote a
variety of works in prose and verse. She was born 1st September, 1791, and died 10th June, 1865. She resided for many years in Hartford, Connecticut.
The steamboat Atlantic, plying between Norwich, in Connecticut, and New York, was wrecked on an island near New London. Many of the passengers were on their way to join in the celebration of the annual Thanksgiving in New England. The bell of this boat, supported by a portion of the wreck, continued for many days and nights to toll as if in mournful requiem of the lost.]
1. Toll, toll, toll,
Thou bell by billows swung;
Repeat with mournful tongue !
Wrecked on yon rocky shore !
She rides the surge no more.
2. Toll for the master bold,
The high-souled and the brave,
Amid the crested wave!
Sons of the storm and blast,
But it vanquished them at last.
Whose hallowed voice of prayer
Of that intense despair !
On that sad verge of life,
And the mountain billows' strife!
4. Toll for the lover lost
To the summoned bridal train ! .
Beneath th' unfathomed main.
Long o'er the misty sea :
His heart is cold to thee. 5. Toll for the absent sire,
Who to his home drew near,
Fond wife and children dear!
The festal board is spread ;
Room for the pallid dead ! 6. Toll for the loved and fair,
The whelmed beneath the tide-
The dull sea-monsters glide !
Reft from the household throng;
Where breathed their soul of song. 7. Toll for the hearts that bleed
'Neath misery's furrowing trace !
The last of all his race !
From surge to rocky shore,
Whose mortal woes are o'er ! 8. Toll, toll, toll,
O'er breeze and billow free,
Each rover of the sea :
Tell how o'er proudest joys
May swift destruction sweep,
Lydia H. SIGOURNEY.
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. [THOMAS CAMPBELL, born in Glasgow, 27th July, 1777, is the
author of “ Pleasures of Hope," published in 1799, when he was only twenty-two years of age, “ Gertrude of Wyoming," published in 1809, and some of the most spirited lyrics in
the language. He died 15th June, 1844.] 1. OUR bugles sang truce—for the night-cloud bad
lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 2. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again. 3. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track: 'Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. 4. I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was
young: I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers
sung. 5. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to
part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o’er,
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart; 6. “Stay, stay with us—rest, thou art weary and worn!"
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ;But sorrow return’d with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear-melted away.
CAMPBELL. Fagot.—A bundle of sticks or brushwood, bound together
for fuel, and kept burning during the night to scare away the wolves from feeding on the unburied dead.
A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT. [ROBERT BURNS, the greatest of Scottish poets, was born 25th
January, 1759, and, after a brief and chequered existence,
died 21st July, 1796.]
That hangs his head, and a' that?
Our toils obscure, and a' that;
The man 's the gowd for a' that. gold. 2. What tho on hamely fare we dine,
homely. Wear hodden gray, and a' that ;
Their tinsel show, and a' that ;
Is king o' men for a' that. 3. You see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
young fellow. Wha struts, and stares, and a' that, Tho' hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that;
fool. For a' that, and a' that,
His riband, star, and a' that ;
He looks and laughs at a' that.