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THE INCHCAPE ROCK.
137 Down sank the bell with a gurgling sound; The bubbles rose and burst around. Quoth Sir Ralph, “ The next who comes to the rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."
Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away;
So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
On the deck the Rover takes his stand;
“ Can'st hear,” said one, “the breakers' roar?
For methinks we should be near the shore.
They hear no sound; the swell is strong;
Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair ;
But even in his dying fear
A TIME there was of tender young affection,
When I in stature scarcely reached an ell; Sweet tears flow ever at the recollection,
And, therefore, often on these times I dwell. Then by my loving mother was I carried ;
Then strode my father's knee, a horseman bold; Nor knew of grief, or care, or brain o'erwearied,
More than I knew of classic lore or gold. The earth was very small then to my dreaming,
And in it there was little to condemn;
And wished for wings to fly away to them.
And thought could I now to yon isle escape, Then should I know, without a chance of failing,
How large, how round, how beautiful its shape! Then saw I, marvelling, God's sun descending
Towards the west, to the sea's golden bed, And yet next morning, early, re-ascending, And gilding all heaven's eastern realm with red.
139 And thought upon the gracious God the Father,
Who me created and that glorious sun,
And Aung from pole to pole o'er all heaven's span.
The words which my good mother bade me pray: O Thou great God, be all my life's endeavour
Wise to become, and good, and to obey."
And for my sister, and for all the town,
I passed beneath thy arch gigantic,
The roll of the Atlantic.
The surge forgot its motion,
Unrippled by the ocean.
When, 'mid the lightning's sweep,
Burst from the boiling deep;
O'er sculptured graves I trod,
I hailed the eternal God:
THE DYING CHILD.
Let me repose upon thy bosom sleek;
Because thy tears fall hot upon my cheek.
But in my dreams all is so wondrous bright; I see the angel-children smiling gladly
When from my weary eyes I shut out light. Mother, one stands beside me now! and, listen!
Dost thou not hear the music's sweet accord ? See how his white wings beautifully glisten!
Surely those wings were given him by our Lord:
They are flowers the angel scattereth.
Or, mother, are they given alone in death?
Why dost thou press thy cheek thus unto mine? Thy cheek is hot, and yet thy tears are flowing ;
I will, dear mother, will be always thine !
And if thou weep, then I must weep with thee.
THE water rolled--the water swelled
A fisher sat beside ;
Beside the freshening tide.
The parted waters rose,
A water-maiden rose.
She spake to him, she sang to him,
From out their native flood ?
Our peaceful lives glide o'er,
To seek our happier shore.
The moon too—in the sea ?
More beautiful to see?
Within the waters blue ?
In that eternal dew?"
It reached his naked feet;
His bounding bosom beat.
His short suspense is o'er ;