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Daughter of earth and water, the vapour of which the clouds are

formed is raised from

the earth and the water by the heat of the sun.

Nursling, child. Pavilion of heaven, the sky; because it appears to be spread

out over our heads like a canopy or tent. Convex, curved like

the outer surface of

a ball or globe. Cenotaph, an empty tomb, or memorial built to a person who is buried elsewhere.

I am the daughter of earth and water,*
And the nursling* of the sky;

I

pass through the pores of the ocean and 75 shores;

I change, but I cannot die.

For after the rain, when with never a stain
The pavilion of heaven* is bare,

And the winds and sunbeams with their con

I

vex * gleams

Build up the blue dome of air,
silently laugh at my own cenotaph,*
And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from
the tomb,

I arise and unbuild it again.

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Thrive, to succeed.

Bauble,

ADVICE TO A YOUTH.-Jonson.

a trifle, a thing of very small value.

Foolish brain, a silly

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*

*

LEARN to be wise, and practise how to thrive; *
That would I have you do: and not to spend
Your coin on every bauble that you fancy,
Or every foolish brain * that humours you.
I would not have you to invade each place,
Nor thrust yourself on all societies,
Till men's affections, or your own desert,*
Should worthily invite you to your rank.*
He that is so respectless in his courses,
Oft sells his reputation * at cheap market.
Nor would I you should melt away yourself
In flashing bravery,* lest, while you affect
To make a blaze of gentry
* to the world,
A little puff of scorn extinguish it;
And be left like an unsavoury snuff,
Whose property is only to offend.
I'd have you sober, and contain yourself,
Not that your sail be bigger than your boat;
But moderate your expenses now, at first,
As you may keep the same proportion still :
Nor stand so much on your gentility,
Which is an airy and mere borrowed thing,
From dead men's dust, and bones; and none

you

of yours,
Except you make, or hold it.

*

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THE RÉVEILLÉ.*—Bret Harte.

BRET HARTE (1835- ) is a popular American writer, and author of some humorous poems.

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Freemen, come!

Lo, behold, look.

Ere your heritage* be wasted," said the quick Heritage, that which

alarming drum.

"Let me of my heart take counsel:

War is not of life the sum

Who shall stay and reap the harvest

When the autumn days shall come?"

But the drum

Echoed,*
*"Come!

one claims by right of birth.

Counsel, advice.

Echoed, to give back

Death shall reap the braver harvest," said the a sound.

solemn-sounding drum.

"But when won the coming battle,
What of profit springs therefrom?
What if conquest,* subjugation,*
Even greater ills become?"

But the drum

Answered, "Come!

You must do the sum to prove it," said the

Yankee-answering drum.

"What if, 'mid the cannons' thunder,
Whistling shot and bursting bomb,*

When my brothers fall around me,
Should my heart grow cold and numb?"
But the drum

Answered, "Come!

Better there in death united, than in life a
recreant,*-come!"

Conquest, that which is obtained by force. Subjugation, to conquer, to bring under power.

Bomb, a large hollow
ball or shell of iron
filled with gunpow-
der, to be thrown
from a mortar, so as
to explode when it
falls.
Numb, deprived of
feeling.
Recreant, coward.

* Réveillé, the beat of drum or sound of trumpet at daybreak (Fr. réveiller, to awake, to stir up).

Thus they answered,-hoping, fearing,
Some in faith, and doubting some,
Till a trumpet-voice proclaiming,
Said, "My chosen people, come !"
Then the drum,

Lo! was dumb,

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For the great heart of the nation, throbbing, 35 answered, "Lord, we come!"

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS.-Longfellow.

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It was the schooner * Hesperus,

That sailed the wintry sea;

And the skipper * had taken his little daughter
To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,

Her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds
That * in the month of May.

ope

The skipper, he stood beside the helm,

His pipe was in his mouth;

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And he watched how the veering * flaw * did blow
The smoke now west, now south.

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"Last night the moon had a golden ring,*

And to-night no moon we see !"

And the skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Colder and colder blew the wind,
A gale from the north-east ;
The snow fell hissing in the brine,

And the billows frothed like yeast.

Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;

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She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,

Then leaped her cable's * length.

Cable, a thick strong rope (240 yards long), used

"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, to hold ships at

And do not tremble so ;

For I can weather * the roughest gale,
That ever wind did blow."

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat,

Against the stinging blast;

35 He cut a rope from a broken spar,*

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And bound her to the mast.

"O father! I hear the church bells ring;
Oh say, what may it be?"

""Tis a fog-bell on a rockbound coast."
And he steered for the open sea.

"O father! I hear the sound of guns;
Oh say, what may it be?"

"Some ship in distress, that cannot live
In such an angry sea."

"O father! I see a gleaming light;

Oh say, what may it be?

But the father answered never a word

A frozen corpse was he.

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,

The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.

Then the maiden clasped her hands, and prayed
That saved she might be;

55 And she thought of Him who stilled the waves

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On the lake of Galilee.

And fast, through the midnight dark and dear,

Through the whistling sleet and snow,

Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept

*

Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.

And ever, the fitful gusts between,
A sound came from the land:
It was the sound of the trampling surf,
On the rocks and the hard sea sand.

anchor, or to tow vessels in large rivers.

Weather, endure.

Spar, a small beam.

Reef, ridge of rocks in the sea, near the surface.

Aisle, a passage in a church.

Hist! hush, attention, silence, listen.

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And we gazed up the aisle* through the 75 small leaded panes.

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*

She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:
Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here.
Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone.
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.'
But, ah, she gave me never a look,

Sealed, fixed with an For her eyes were sealed* to the holy book.

attentive gaze.

Humming town, at a distance the noise of a town sounds like the humming of bees in a hive.

Shuttle, an instrument used for shoot

"

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"Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door." Come away, children, call no more.

Come away, come down, call no more.

Down, down, down,

Down to the depths of the sea.

She sits at her wheel in the humming town,*
Singing most joyfully.

Hark, what she sings: “Oh joy, oh joy,

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For the humming street, and the child with 90
its toy,

For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well.
For the wheel where I spun,

And the blessed light of the sun."

And so she sings her fill,

Singing most joyfully,

Till the shuttle* falls from her hand,

And the whizzing wheel stands still.

woof between the She steals to the window, and looks at the sand;

ing the thread of the

threads of the warp

in weaving.

Anon, soon, quickly, immediately.

Sorrow-laden, full of sorrow, weighed down with sadness. Mermaiden, maid of the sea, having the upper part like a woman and the lower like a fish, and supposed to have long golden hair.

Hoarse, harsh, disagreeable.

Gusts, sudden blasts of wind.

And over the sand at the sea;

And her eyes are set in a stare;
And anon
there breaks a sigh,

*

And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow-laden,*

A long, long sigh.

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For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,

And the gleam of her golden hair.

Come away, away, children.
Come, children, come down.
The hoarse wind blows colder;
Lights shine in the town.

She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door;
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear the waves roar.

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