Part 3 (2/2)

He dwells in merry Scotland at the sign of the Bluebell; And it's oh! in my heart that I love my laddie well.

IF I HAD BUT TWO LITTLE WINGS.

”If I Had But Two Little Wings,” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), is recommended by a number of teachers and school-girls.

If I had but two little wings And were a little feathery bird, To you I'd fly, my dear!

But thoughts like these are idle things And I stay here.

But in my sleep to you I fly: I'm always with you in my sleep!

The world is all one's own.

And then one wakes, and where am I?

All, all alone.

SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE.

A FAREWELL.

”A Farewell,” by Charles Kingsley (1819-75), makes it seem worth while to be good.

My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray; Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do n.o.ble things, not dream them all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand, sweet song.

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

CASABIANCA.

”Casabianca,” by Felicia Hemans (1793-1835), is the portrait of a faithful heart, an example of unreasoning obedience. It is right that a child should obey even to the death the commands of a loving parent.

The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.

The flames rolled on--he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud, ”Say, father, say If yet my task is done?”

He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son.

”Speak, father!” once again he cried, ”If I may yet be gone!”

And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair; And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud ”My father! must I stay?”

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the s.h.i.+p in splendour wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child Like banners in the sky.

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