Volume Iii Part 16 (1/2)

Pull back! pull back! The raging flood sweeps every oar away.

O stream, is this thy bar of sand? O boat, is this the bay?

RICHARD GARNETT.

ON THE SEA.

It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate sh.o.r.es, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.

Often 'tis in such gentle temper found, That scarcely will the very smallest sh.e.l.l Be moved for days from where it sometime fell, When last the winds of heaven were unbound.

O ye! who have your eyeb.a.l.l.s vexed and tired, Feast them upon the wideness of the sea; O ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude, Or fed too much with cloying melody,-- Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired!

JOHN KEATS.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE WHITE s.h.i.+P.

HENRY I. OF ENGLAND.--25th NOVEMBER, 1120.

By none but me can the tale be told, The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.

(_Lands are swayed by a King on a throne._)

'Twas a royal train put forth to sea, Yet the tale can be told by none but me.

(_The sea hath no King but G.o.d alone._)

King Henry held it as life's whole gain That after his death his son should reign.

'Twas so in my youth I heard men say, And my old age calls it back to-day.

King Henry of England's realm was he, And Henry Duke of Normandy.

The times had changed when on either coast ”Clerkly Harry” was all his boast.

Of ruthless strokes full many a one He had struck to crown himself and his son; And his elder brother's eyes were gone.

And when to the chase his court would crowd, The poor flung plowshares on his road, And shrieked: ”Our cry is from King to G.o.d!”

But all the chiefs of the English land Had knelt and kissed the Prince's hand.

And next with his son he sailed to France To claim the Norman allegiance:

And every baron in Normandy Had taken the oath of fealty.

'Twas sworn and sealed, and the day had come When the King and the Prince might journey home: