And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute,
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the heavens be mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon- A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell To thee, thou wedding guest; He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast:
He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God, who loveth us, He made and loveth all.
COLERIDGE.
(Ancient Mariner.)
THE PIG.
A colloquial Poem.
JACOB, I do not love to see thy nose Turn'd up in scornful curve at yonder pig. It would be well, my friend, if we like him
Were perfect in our kind! And why despise The sow-born grunter? . . . He is obstinate, Thou answerest; ugly, and the filthiest beast That banquets upon offal. Now, I pray you, Hear the pig's counsel.
We must not, Jacob, be deceived by words, By sophist sounds. A democratic beast, He knows that his unmerciful drivers seek Their profit, and not his. He hath not learnt That pigs were made for man, - born to be brawn'd
And baconised; that he must please to give Just what his gracious masters please to take; Perhaps his tusks, the weapons Nature gave For self-defence, the general privilege;
Perhaps, .. hark, Jacob, dost thou hear that horn?
Woe to the young posterity of Pork!
Their enemy's at hand.
Again. Thou say'st The pig is ugly. Jacob, look at him! Those eyes have taught the lover flattery. His face,-nay, Jacob, Jacob, were it fair To judge a lady in her dishabille ?
Fancy it drest, and with saltpetre rouged. Behold his tail, my friend; with curls like that The wanton hop marries her stately spouse: So crisp in beauty Amoretta's hair
Rings round her lover's soul the chains of love. And what is beauty, but the aptitude
Of parts harmonious? give thy fancy scope, And thou wilt find that no imagined change Can beautify this beast. Place at his end The starry glory of the peacock's pride; Give him the swan's white breast; for his horn- hoofs
Shape such a foot and ancle as the waves
Crowded in eager rivalry to kiss,
When Venus from the enamoured sea arose.
Jacob, thou canst but make a monster of him! All alteration man could think would mar
The last charge :—he lives
A dirty life. Here I could shelter him With noble and right-reverend precedents, And shew by sanction of authority That 'tis a very honourable thing To thrive by dirty ways. But let me rest On better ground the unanswerable defence. The pig is a philosopher, who knows
No prejudice. Dirt? Jacob,-what is dirt? If matter, why the delicate dish that tempts An o'ergorged epicure to the last morsel
That stuffs him to the throat-gates, is no more. If matter be not, but, as sages say,
Spirit is all, and all things visible
Are one, the infinitely modified;
Think, Jacob, what that pig is, and the mire Wherein he stands knee-deep.
And there! that breeze
Pleads with me, and has won thee to the smile
That speaks conviction. O'er yon blossom'd field Of beans it came, and thoughts of bacon rise.
Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the Admiral of the Orient, remained at his post, in the battle of the Nile, after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned. He perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder.
THE boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.
The flames rolled on-he would not go, Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud, " Say, father, say, If yet my task is done!"
He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son.
Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!
And,"-but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames roll'd on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair,
And look'd from that lone post of death In still yet brave despair.
And shouted but once more aloud,
My father, must I stay?"
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapp'd the ship in splendour wild, They caught the flag on high, And stream'd above the gallant child Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder-sound The boy,-oh, where was he? Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strew'd the sea!
With mast and helm and pennon fair, That well had borne their part; But the noblest thing which perished there Was that young and faithful heart!
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