THE SHIP ON FIRE. ANONYMOUS. There was joy in the ship as she furrowed the foam, "Oh happy!" said he, "when our roaming is o'er, And the smoke of its hearth curling up to the sky, And the kind friends awaiting to welcome us all!" Hark! hark! what was that? Hark! hark to the shout! "Fire! fire!" then a tramp and a rush and a rout, And an uproar of voices arose on the air, And the mother knelt down; and the half-spoken prayer That she offered to Heaven, in her agony wild, Was, "Father! have mercy! look down on my child!" Fire fire it is raging above and below; And his eyes glittered wild in the glare of the light. They prayed for relief, and not vainly they prayed ; For at noon the sun shone, in full splendor arrayed ; "A sail, ho! a sail !" cried the man on the lee; 66 A sail!" and all turned their glad eyes o'er the sea. "They spy us, they heed us! the signal is waved ! They bear down to help us-thank Heaven! we are saved!" WASHINGTON'S STATUE. H. T. TUCKERMAN. The quarry whence thy form majestic sprung, Heroes and gods that elder bards have sung, But from its sleeping veins ne'er rose before Than his, who Glory's wreath with meekness wore, Sheathed is the sword that Passion never stained, His gaze around is cast, As if the joys of Freedom, newly-gained, As if a nation's shout of love and pride And his calm soul was lifted on the tide As if the crystal mirror of his life To fancy sweetly came, With scenes of patient toil and noble strife, As if the lofty purpose of his soul The high resolve Ambition to control, And thrust her crown away! Oh! it was well in marble firm and white To carve our hero's form, Whose angel guidance was our strength in fight, Whese matchless truth has made his name divine, His country great, his tomb earth's dearest shrine And it is well to place his image there, Let meaner spirits who its councils share, Let us go up with high and sacred love To look on his pure brow, And as, with solemn grace, he points above, THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT ON HIGH. The spacious firmament on high, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim; The unwearied sun, from day to day, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty Hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail. Repeats the story of her birth; Whilst all the stars that round her burr, And spread the truth from pole to pole What though, in solemn silence, all "The Hand that made us is Divine." ADDISON. THE PILOT. T. H. BAYLY. "Oh, pilot, 'tis a fearful night; there's danger on the deep; I'll come and pace the deck with thee, I do not dare to sleep." "Go down," the sailor cried, "go down! this is no place for thee: Fear not, but trust in Providence wherever thou may'st be.' 'Ah, pilot, dangers often met we all are apt to slight, And thou hast known these raging waves but to subdue their might." "It is not apathy." he cried, "that gives this strength to me : THE LIFE OF A BIRD. MARY HOWITT. How pleasant the life of a bird must be, Skimming about on the breezy sea, Cresting the billows like silvery foam, And then wheeling away to its cliff-built home! By a strong free wind, through the rosy morn, How pleasant the life of a bird must be ! Then wheeling about with its mates at play, What joy it must be, like a living breeze, The wastes of the blossoming purple heath, LABOR IS WORSHIP. MRS. F. S. OSGOOD. "Labor is worship," the robin is singing; Labor is worship," the wild bee is ringing; Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart. Labor is life-'tis the still water faileth, Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; Keep the watch wound, else the dark rust assaileth; Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory--the flying cloud lightens ; Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune. |