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""^Y, build her long and narrow and deep!

She shall cut the sea with a seimetar's sweep,
Whatever betides and whoever may weep!

Bring out the red wine! Lift the glass to the
lip!

With a roar of great guns, and a "Hip! hip! That shall queen it so grandly when svirges are frantic! Ilurrah! " lor the craft, we will christen the ship! Child of fire :<ud of iron, God save the " Atlantic!"

Dash a draught on the bow! Ah, the spar of white wood

Drips into the sea till it colors the flood

With the very own double and symbol of blood!

Now out with the name of the monarch gigantic

All aboard, my line fellows! '-Up anchor!" the word—

Ah, never again shall that order be heard,

For two worlds will be mourning ye gone to a third I

To the trumpet of Mareh wild gallops the sea;
The white-crested troopers are under the lee—
Old World and New World and Soul-World are three.

Great garments of rain wrap the desolate night;
Sweet Heaven disastered is lost to the sight;
"Atlantic," crash on in the pride of thy might!
With thy look-out's dim cry "One o'clock, and all
right!"

Ho, down with the hatches! The seas come aboard!
All together they come, like a passionate word,
Like pirates that put every soul to the sword!

Their black flag all abroad makes murky the air,
But the ship parts the night as a maiden her hair—
Through and through the thick gloom, from land here

to land there. Like the shuttle that weaves for a mourner to wear!

Good night, proud "Atlantic!" One tick of tho clock,

And a staggering craunch and a shivering shock— 'Tis the Hint and the steel! 'Tis the ship and the rock!

Deathless sparks are struck out from the bosoms of girls,

From the stout heart of manhood, in scintillaut whirls.
Like the stars of the Flag when the. banner unfurls 1

What hundreds went up unto God in their sleep!
What hundreds in agony baffled the deep —
Nobody to pray and nobody to weep!

Alas for the flag of the single '* White Star,"
With light pale and cold as the woman's hands are
Who, froze in the shrouds, flashed her jewels afar,
Lost her hold on the world, and then clutched at a
spar!

God of mercy and grace! How the bubbles come up
With souls from the revel, who stayed not to sup;
Death drank the last toast, and then shattered the
cup!

Benjamin F. Taylor.

THE WIND IN A FROLIC.

3hbhe Wind one morning sprang up from sleep,
SHS Saying, "Now for a frolic! now for a leap!
A Now for a mad-cap galloping chase!
♦ I'll make a commotion in every place!"
So it swept with a bustle right through a great
town,

Creaking the signs, and scattering down
Shutters; and whisking, with merciless squalls,
Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls:
There never was heard a much lustier shout.
As the apples and oranges tumbled about;
And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes
Forever on watch, ran off each with a prize.
Then away to the field it went blustering and hum-
miug,

And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming;
It plucked by the tails the grave matronly cows,
And tossed the colts' manes all over their brows,
'Till, offended at such a familiar salute,
They all turned their backs and stood sulkily mute.

So on it went, capering, and playing its pranks,
Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks.
Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray,
Or the traveler grave on the king's highway.

It was not too nice to hustle the bags
Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags:
'Twas so bold, that it feared not to play its joke
With the doctor's wig or the gentleman's cloak.

Through the forest it roared, and cried, gayly. " Now,

You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow!"

And it made them bow without more ado.

Or cracked their great branches through and through.

Then it rushed, like a monster, on cottage and farm.
Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm.
So they ran out like bees when threatened with hanu. .
There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their
caps,

To see if their poultry were free from mishaps;
The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud,
And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd;
There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on.
Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to b*i
gone.

But the wind had swept on, and met in a lane
With a school-boy, who panted and struggled in vain:
For it tossed him, and twirled him, then passed, and
he stood

With his hat in a pool, and his shoe in the mud.

Then away went the wind in its holiday glee!
And now it was far on the billowy sea;
And the lordly ships felt its staggering blow,
And the little boats darted to and fro': —
But lo! night came, and it sank to rest
On the sea-bird's rock in the gleaming west.
Laughing to think, in its fearful fun.
How little of mischief it had done!

William Howitt.

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