The American Union Speaker Part 43

Toll for the queenly boat, Wrecked on yon rocky sh.o.r.e!

Sea-weed is in her palace halls,-- She rides the surge no more.

Toll for the master bold, The high-souled and the brave, Who ruled her like a thing of life Amid the crested wave!

Toll for the hardy crew, Sons of the storm and blast, Who long the tyrant ocean dared; But it vanquished them at last.

Toll for the man of G.o.d, Whose hallowed voice of prayer Rose calm above the stifled groan Of that intense despair!

How precious were those tones, On that sad verge of life, Amid the fierce and freezing storm, And the mountain billows' strife!

Toll for the lover, lost To the summoned bridal train!

Bright glows a picture on his breast, Beneath th' unfathomed main.

One from her cas.e.m.e.nt gazeth Long o'er the misty sea:

He cometh not, pale maiden,-- His heart is cold to thee!

Toll for the absent sire, Who to his home drew near, To bless a glad, expecting group,-- Fond wife, and children dear!

They heap the blazing hearth, The festal board is spread, But a fearful guest is at the gate;-- Room for the sheeted dead!

Toll for the loved and fair, The whelmed beneath the tide,-- The broken harps around whose strings The dull sea-monsters glide!

Mother and nursling sweet, Reft from the household throng; There's bitter weeping in the nest Where breathed their soul of song.

Toll for the hearts that bleed 'Neath misery's furrowing trace; Toll for the hapless orphan left, The last of all his race!

Yea, with thy heaviest knell, From surge to rocky sh.o.r.e, Toll for the living,--not the dead, Whose mortal woes are o'er.

Toll, toll, toll!

O'er breeze and billow free; And with thy startling lore instruct Each rover of the sea.

Tell how o'er proudest joys May swift destruction sweep, And bid him build his hopes on high,-- Lone teacher of the deep!

Mrs. Sigourney.

CCx.x.x.

THE STRUGGLE FOR FAME.

If thou wouldst win a lasting fame,-- If thou the immortal wreath wouldst claim, And make the future bless thy name,--

Begin thy perilous career, Keep high thy heart, thy conscience clear, And walk thy way without a fear.

And if thou hast a voice within, That ever whispers, "Work and win,"

And keeps thy soul from sloth and sin;--

If thou canst plan a n.o.ble deed, And never flag till it succeed, Though in the strife thy heart should bleed;--

If thou canst struggle day and night, And, in the envious world's despite, Still keep thy cynosure in sight;--

If thou canst bear the rich man's scorn, Nor curse the day that thou wert born To feed on husks, and he on corn;--

If thou canst dine upon a crust, And still hold on with patient trust, Nor pine that fortune is unjust;--

If thou canst see, with tranquil breast, The knave or fool in purple dressed, Whilst thou must walk in tattered vest;--

If thou canst rise ere break of day, And toil and moil till evening gray, At thankless work, for scanty pay;--

If in thy progress to renown Thou canst endure the scoff and frown Of those who strive to pull thee down;--

If thou canst bear the averted face, The gibe, or treacherous embrace, Of those who run the self-same race;--

If thou in darkest days canst find An inner brightness in thy mind, To reconcile thee to thy kind:--

Whatever obstacles control, Thine hour will come--go on--true soul!

Thou'lt win the prize, thou'lt reach the goal.

If not--what matters? Tried by fire, And purified from low desire, Thy spirit shall but soar the higher.

Content and hope thy heart shall buoy, And men's neglect shall ne'er destroy Thy secret peace, thy inward joy!

C. Mackay.

CCx.x.xI.

THE SAILOR-BOY'S DREAM.

In slumbers of midnight, the sailor-boy lay; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.

He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While memory stood sideways, half covered with flowers And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.

Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide, And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise-- Now, far, far behind him the green waters glide, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch, And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall; All trembling with transport he raises the latch, And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear, And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulse--all hards.h.i.+ps seem o'er, And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest-- "O G.o.d, thou hast blest me--I ask for no more."

Ah! what is that flame, which now bursts on his eye?

Ah! what is that sound which now larums his ear?

'T is the lightning's red glare painting h.e.l.l on the sky!

'T is the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere!

He springs from his hammock--he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire-- Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck-- The masts fly in splinters--the shrouds are on fire!

O! sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frostwork of bliss-- Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss!

O! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main, Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge.

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid; Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye-- O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul!