Miscellaneous Pieces. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. THE VOYAGE WITH THE NAUTILUS. I MADE myself a little boat, As trim as trim could be, A little boat out of a great pearl shell, I made my masts of wild sea rush, I took for my sails the butterfly's wings, For he crossed the sea six thousand years, The stores I took were plentiful: And the honey-combs that were hoarded up I looked up to the lady moon, She was but like a glow-worm's spark; And never a star shone down to us, Through the sky, so high and dark. And we had no mast, we had no ropes, And every sail was rent; And the stores I brought from the charmed isle, But the Nautilus was a patient thing, And he kept the course aright. And for thrice seven nights we sail'd and sail'd: At length I saw the bay Where I built my bark, and my mother's house, 'Mong the green hills where it lay. "Farewell!" said I to the Nautilus, But I'll sail with thee no more." DELICIE MARIS. ONCE, when I was a thoughtless child, And a mariner sate by me; And thus he spake:-"For seventy years I've sail'd upon the sea. "Thou thinkest that the earth is fair, And full of strange delight; Yon little brook, that murmurs by, Is glorious in thy sight. "Thon callest yon poor butterfly "Thou speak'st as if God only made Yet I blame thee not, thou simple child! "But the ocean-fields are free to all, With the heavens above, and round about, "Up to the north,-the polar north, To the land of the thawless snow. "The sea was parted for Israel, "And a miracle as great was wrought For us in the polar sea, When the rocks were rent, from peak to base, "Yet, amid those seas so wild and stern, "Great kings have piled up pyramids, "Its pillars are of the adamant, By a thousand winters hew'd; Its priests are the awful silence, And the ancient solitude! "And then we sailed to the tropic seas, "I have looked down to those ocean depths "The red, the green, and the beautiful "Some, they were like the lily of June. "And then the million creatures bright "When 'neath the trees that God had set, "There are no wastes of burning sand, There's neither heat nor cold; "There, with the divers of the East, Who down in those depths have been, I've conversed of the marvels strange, And the glories they had seen. "And they say, each one, not halls of kings With the ocean-caves can vie, With the untrod caves of the carbuncle, "And well I wot it must be so: Man parteth evermore The miser-treasures of the earth; "Then I've cross'd the line full fifteen times, 'Leap up, the creatures that God had made, "But, my little child, thou sittest here, Still gazing on yon stream, And the wondrous things that I have told "But to me they are as living thoughts, More glorious than the land: "For when at first the world awoke Not on the land the Spirit of God FLOWERS. ON the third day of creation, Before mankind had birth, Ten thousand thousand flowers sprang up, To beautify the earth: From the rejoicing earth sprang up Each radiant, bursting bud; And God looked down, at eventide, And saw that they were good. And now, as then, ten thousand flowers From the gracious earth outburst, And every flower that springeth up Is goodly as at first: The red rose is the red rose still; Ye flowers II. -ye little flowers Were witnesses of things, More glorious and more wondrous far Than the fall and rise of kings!— Ye, in the vales of Paradise, Heard how the mountains rang, When the sons of God did shout for joy, And the stars of morning rang! Ye saw the creatures of the earth, Ere fear was felt, or pain; Go sporting o'er the plain! Sprang, when the floods were dried, And the meek dove from out the ark Went wandering far and wide;And when upon Mount Ararat The floating ark was stayed, And the freshness of the flowering earth The Patriarch first surveyed, Ye saw across the heavens The new-made bended bow,- Should rage beyond their shore; III. Oh flowers! sweet, goodly flowers! Fit emblems, were ye strewn' For in their souls ye wrought, Like seas, and stars, and mountains old, Enkindling lofty thought! But greater far than all Our blessed Lord did see They toil not, neither spin, OH! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and "Ay, though the children weep all day, and with pain, down-drooping head It boweth down the heart of man, and dulls his cun- Each does his small craft mournfully!- the hungry ning brain, must be fed; It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs And that which has a price to bring, must go, to buy complain! They hardly know how labour is the penalty of sin; And year by year, as life wears on, no wants have In all the luxury of the earth they have abundant share ; They walk among life's pleasant ways, and never know a care. The children of the poor man us bread!" doth cling, With love that hath no feignings false, unto each gentle thing! Therefore most sorrowful it was those children small to see, Most sorrowful to hear them plead for their pet so piteously; though they be "Oh! mother dear, it loveth us; and what beside have we ? young, each one, Early in the morning they rise up before the rising sun, And scarcely when the sun is set, their daily task is done. Few things have they to call their own, to fill their hearts with pride, The sunshine of the summer's day, the flowers on the highway side, "Let's take him to the broad, green hills," in his impotent despair, Said one strong boy, "let's take him off, the hills are wide and fair; I know a little hiding-place, and we will keep him there!" Or their own free companionship, on the heathy com- 'T was vain!-they took the little lamb, and straightmon wide. way tied him down, Hunger, and cold, and weariness, these are a frightful With a strong cord they tied him fast ;—and o'er the three; But another curse there is beside, that darkens poverty: common brown, And o'er the hot and flinty roads, they took him to the town. It may not have one thing to love, how small soe'er The little children through that day, and throughout it be. A thousand flocks were on the hills -a thousand flocks, and more,— Feeding in sunshine pleasantly, they were the rich man's store; There was the while, one little lamb, beside a cottage Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and door: A little lamb that did lie down with the children 'neath the tree; That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nestled to their knee; pain It keepeth down the soul of man, as with an iron chain; It maketh even the little child, with heavy sighs complain! Is it blood, or pride, or restless hate?" "I have hated none - -I have known no pride,— Yet have sinned as few men beside: I have bound myself by oath and spell, Can the church absolve such sins as these?" But he raised himself and his words were slow:- I had knowledge of each herb and tree; I watched the lightning's subtle flame; And I heard the sound of their ceaseless feet; Was cool on my cheek, and lifted my hair;- And through thick woods, where the air was cold: Where was that land, I cannot say — I dwelt 'mong the faëries, their merry king,— I danced on the earth, in the charmed ring; Till thrice seven years, as a day, had sped;— He was lean, and crabbed, and old,- then came there by A fair child, chasing a butterfly; "T was a lovely boy- with his free light hair, Like a sunny cloud, o'er his shoulders bare; And as he danced in his glee along, He filled the air with a joyful song; I blessed the child from my inmost heart, With a fairy gift, that could ne'er depart. Next came a maiden, all alone, And down she sate on a mossy stone: Fair was she, as the morning's smile, But her serious eye had a tear the while; Then she raised to heaven her thoughtful look, And drew from her bosom a clasped book; Page by page of that book she read,Hour by hour I listened ; Still on she read, sedate and low, And at every word I was wrung with woe; And my human heart was shook with dread |