60 THE SHIPBUILDERS. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Goldsmith THE SHIPBUILDERS. THE sky is ruddy in the east, The earth is grey below, The ship's white timbers show. And grating saw begin ; The mallet to the pin ! The sooty smithy jars, Are fading with the stars. Beside that flashing forge ; The groaning anvil scourge. For us is toiling near ; Their island-barges steer; In forests old and still ; Falls crashing down his hill. No craftsmen bear a part : The slaves of human art. And drive the treenails free; Shall tempt the searching sea. THE SHIPBUILDERS. 61 Where'or the keel of our good ship The sea’s rough field shall plough, With salt spray caught below, Her helm obey his hand, As if they trod the land. Of northern ice may peel ; May grate along her keel; We give to wind and wave Or sink, the sailor's grave ! And set the good ship free! bride of the sea ? In graceful beauty now! Sinks down her virgin prow! No merchandise of sin, hold within. Nor poison-draught for ours ; But honest fruits of toiling hands, And nature's sun and showers ! The desert's golden sand, The spice of morning-land ! May blessings follow free, J. G. Whitiier. 62 WHAT IS A DRUNKARD ? WHAT IS A DRUNKARD ? (By permission of the Proprietor of Mr. Anderton's TVorks.) At every holy thing; With an affrighted wing. “To drain the maddening bowl ;” Ensnare his deathless soul. His children pale and wan; Behold, behold the man ! curses loud and deep;” Undying tortures reap. For whom our Ransom died; The gradual suicide? Yet, for the Firstborn's sake, And let thine arm awake. Henry Anderton. Are 6 ACROSS THE FIELDS OF BARLEY. 63 ACROSS THE FIELDS OF BARLEY, To-morrow, ma, I'm sweet sixteen, And William Grimes, the drover, And wants to be my lover. He's coming here right early, Across the fields of barley. You must not go, my daughter dear.. There's no use now a-talking, You shall not go across the fields With William Grimes a-walking. A dirty ugly drover ! To think of such a rover. Old Grimes is dead you know, mamma, And William is so lonely ; Besides, they say, to Grimes' estate, That William is the only And that, they say, is nearly About three hundred yearly, I did not hear, my daughter dear, Your last remark quite clearly; But William is a clever lad, And no doubt loves you dearly; To be up bright and early, Across the fields of barley. Anon. 64 WOLSEY AND CROMWELL. WOLSEY AND CROMWELL. Wolsey. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; And—when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening-nips his root; And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again- Enter CROMWELL, amazedly. Why, how now, Cromwell ? What, amaz'd How does your grace ? Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good CromwellI know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd meI humbly thank his grace—and from these shoulders, These ruin'd pillare, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy-too much honour. |