« EdellinenJatka »
Its slow, strange progress mark;
5 Near, and more near-and can it be,
(More vent'rous than their own)
Among those Icebergs thrown;
And dark sails, like a funeral pall? 6 (.) “God of the Mariner! protect
Her inmates as she moves along,
But that thine arm is strong.
Still as if held by giant hands.
The stranger ship to aid;
And rapid speed they made:
The vessel stood—none answering spoke. 8 'Twas fèarful-not a sound arose
No moving thing was there,
Which filled each heart with fear;
'Till one, a màn, their sad sight caught. 9 He was alone—the damp, chill mould
Of years hung on his cheek;
The tale no voice might speak:
Seventy days,” the record stood, "Had they been in the ice, and wanted food." 10 They took his book, and turned away,
But soon discovered where
Near him, in life most dear
11 Oh, wedded lòve! how beautiful,
How pùre a thing thou art:
And triumph o'er the heart;
A holy light around the dead.
Kindled in every breast;
They left them to their rest-
They left them with a blessing there; 13 And to their boat returning, each
With thoughtful brows and haste,
Left 'midst the frozen waste,
Had sail'd from distant Albion's shore. 14 They left her in the icebergs, where
Few venture to intrude;
'Mid Ocean's solitude! And, grateful for their own release, Thanked Gòd, and sought their homes in peace.
Away so fast;
To-morrow than to-day;
Like them decay.
3 Our lives like hasting streams must be,
Are doomed to fall-
And swallow all.
4 Alike the river's lordly tide,
To that sad wave;
Within the grave.
And death the goal;
Is found of all.
That lure us here?
EXERCISE 50. Death and the Drunkard. --ANONYMOUS. 1 His form was fair, his cheek was health;
His word a bond, his purse was wealth;
2 The social glass I saw him seize,
The more with festive wit to please,
3 In the bowl's bottom Bankruptcy
I placed-he drank with tears and glee.
4 On the bowl's bottom then myself ..
I threw; the most abhorrent elf
5 Haggard his eyes, upright his hair,
Remorse his lips, his cheeks despair;
6 Death speaks—ah, reader, dost thou hear?
Hast thou no lurking cause to fear?
Constant, commanding, sly control?
The Plague in London.-ROTHELAN. In its malignancy, it engrossed the ill of all other mal adies, and made doctors despicable. Of a potency equal to death, it possessed itself of all his armouries, and was
itself the death of every other mortal distemper. The 5 touch, yea, the very sight of the infected, was deadly;
and its signs were so sudden, that families seated in happiness at their meals have seen the plague spot begin to redden, and have wildly scattered themselves forever.
The cement of society was dissolved by it. Mothers, 10 when they saw the sign of the infection on the babes at
their bosom, cast them from them with abhorrence. Wild places were sought for shelter;—some went into ships and anchored themselves afar off on the waters.
But the angel that was pouring the vial had a foot on the 15 sea, as well as on the dry land. No place was so wild,
that the plague did not visit-none so secret that the quick-sighted pestilence did not discover, none could fly that it did not overtake.
It was as if Heaven had repented the making of man20 kind, and was shovelling them all into the sepulchre.
Justice was forgotten, and her courts deserted. The terrified jailers fied from the felons that were in fetters the innocent and the guilty leagued themselves together,
and kept within their prisons for safety ;-the grass grew 25 in the market-places;—the cattle went moaning up
and down the fields, wondering what had become of their keepers;—the rooks and the ravens came into the towns, and built their nests in the mute belfries;-silence was
universal, save when some infected wretch was seen 30 clamouring at a window.
For a time all commerce was in coffins and shrouds;