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That 's just the dish she can't abide,
Whatever kind o' gout it hae.
Hersel' and her annuity.
The Bible says the age o' man
Threescore and ten, perchance, may be;
Explain the incongruity.
Alive for her annuity.
She 's been embalmed inside and oot
She 's sauted to the last degree-
Sae caper-like an' crnety.
Than her accursed annuity.
The water-drop wears out the rock,
As this eternal jaud wears me;
But not the continuity.
The Forging of the Anchor.
Comr, see the Dolphin's anchor forged ; 't is at a white heat
now: The bellows ceased, the flames decreased; though on the
forge's brow The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound; And fitfully you still may see the grim siniths ranking
round, All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare; Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass
The windlass strains the tackle-chains, the black mound
heaves below, And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe; It rises, roars, rends all outright,-0 Vulcan, what a glow! 'T is blinding white, 't is blasting bright, the high sun shines
not so! The high sun sees not, on the earth, such fiery fearful
show,The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the ruddy, lurid
row Of smiths that stand, an ardent band, like men before the
foe; As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing mon
ster slow Sinks on the anvil,—all about the faces fiery grow,“Hurrah!” they shout, “leap out, leap out:” bang, bang,
the sledges go; Hurrahl the jetted lightnings are hissing high and low; A hailing fount of fire is struck at every squashing blow; The leathern mail rebounds the hail; the rattling cinders
strew The ground around; at every bound the sweltering fount
ains flow; And thick and loud the swinking crowd, at every stroke,
Leap out, leap out, my masters; leap out and lay on load I
board; The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats stove at the
chains, But courage still, brave mariners, the bower still remains, And not an inch to flinch he deigns save when ye pitch sky
high, Then moves his head, as though he said, “Fear nothing,
here am I!” Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand keep time, Your blows make music sweeter far than any steeple's
chime! But while you sling your sledges, sing; and let the burden
The Anchor is the Anvil King, and royal craftsmen we; Strike in, strike in, the sparks begin to dull their rustling
red! Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be
sped; Our anchor soon must change his bed of fiery rich array For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of
clay; Our anchor soon must change the lay of merry craftsmen
For the Yeo-heave-o, and the Heave-away, and the się;hing
seaman's cheer; When, weighing slow, at eve they go far, far from love and
home, And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam.
In livid and obdurate gloom, he darkens down at last.
O trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou hadst life like me, What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the dees
green sea! U deep sea-diver, who might then behold such sights as
thou? The hoary monsters' palaces! methinks what joy 't were
now To go plumb plunging down amid the assembly of the
whales, And feel the churned sea round me boil beneath their
scourging tails ! Then deep in tangle-woods to fight the fierce sea unicorn, And send him foiled and bellowing back, for all his ivory
horn; To leave the subtle sworder-fish of bony blade forlorn; And for the ghastly-grinning shark, to laugh his jaws to
scorn; To leap down on the kraken's back, where 'mid Norwegian
isles He lies, a lubber anchorage for sudden shallowed miles, Till snorting, like an under-sea volcano, off' he rolls; Meanwhile to swing, a-butleting the far astonished shoals Of his black-browsing ocean-calves, or haply in a cove Shell-strown, and consecrate of old to some Undine's love, To find the long-haired mermaidens; or, hard by icy lands, To wrestle with the sea-serpent, upon cerulean sands.
O broad-armed fisher of the deep, whose sports can equal
thine? The Dolphin weighs a thousand tons, that tugs thy cable
line; And night by night 't is thy delight, thy glory day by day, Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant game to play. But, shamer of our little sports, forgive the name I gavel A fisher's joy is to destroy—thine office is to save. O lodger in the sea-kings' halls, couldst thou but understand
Whose be the white bones by thy side, or who that drip
ping band, Slow swaying in the heaving wave, that round abc ut thee
bend, With sounds like breakers in a dream, blessing their ancient
friendOh, couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps
round thee, Thine iron side would swell with pride; thou 'dst leap with
in the sea! Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand, To shed their blood so freely for the love of Fatherland; Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy church-yard
grave, So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing wave. Oh, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly sung, Honor him for their memory whose bones he goes among!
The Bells of Shandon.
With deep affection
Their magic spells.
On this I ponder
Sweet Cork, of thee,-