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Ges. Art married ?
Tell. The boy! What boy?
Sar. See !
Tell. [Aside.] My boy - my boy!- my own brave boy He's safe!
Sar. [Aside to GEALER.) They're like each other.
Ges. Yet I see no sign
Sar. My lord,
Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff
Ges. And send
Sar. I did. He started — 'tis his father.
Tell. Stop!- Stay!
Tell. A moment! — Stop!
Tell. And if
Ges. Well, speak with him.
Tell. Thou dost not know me, boy - and well for thee Thou dost not. I'm the father of a son About thy age. Thou, I see, wast born, like him, upon the hills; If thou shouldst ’scape thy present thraldom, he May chance to cross thee; if he should, I pray thee Relate to him what has been passing here, And say I laid my hand upon thy head, And said to thee, - if he were here, as thou art, Thus would I bless him. May’st thou live my boy, To see thy country free, or die for her, As I do!
[ALBERT Weepa Sar. Mark! he weeps.
Tell. Were he my son,
Sar. He falters !
Tell. 'Tis too much!
Tell. The mother, tyrant, thou dost make
Sar. You see, as he doth prompt, the other acts.
Tell. [Aside.] So well he bears it, he doth vanquish me.
Sar. Was there not all the father in that look ?
Sar. Not if he believes
Ges. I did not think of that! [To Tell.) 'Tis well
Tell. To die? For what?
Tell. He's but a child.
Ges. So the viper hath;
Tell. I talk to stone. I talk to it as though 'Twere flesh; and know 'tis none. I'll talk to it No more. Come, my boy! I taught thee how to live - I'll show thee how to die. 1 U-ŞÜRP'ER. One who seizes that to 6 VĚNGE'ẠNCE. Punishment in rewhich he has no right.
taliation for an injury. COME'LI-NĖSS. Grace; beauty. 7 FLEDG'LING. Ay 3 CÒN'SCIOUS-NĖSS. The perception 8 RÉC-OG-NÎ"TIọn. Act of knowing
of one's own thoughts and feelings. again ; acknowledgment. • XV'A-LÄNCHE. A vast body of snow, | 9 PRÉ-CON-CËRT'ĘD. Arranged be
ice, or earth sliding down the side I forehand. of a mountain.
10 CĀL'TIFF. A villain ; a knave. 6 VöÚCH-SĀFE'. Condescend to grant 11 HĚADS'MẠN. One who beheads. or permit.
12 NĚTH'ER. Lower.
XII. — THE BELL OF THE ATLANTIC.
MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. (Mrs. Lydia H. Sigourney was an American lady, who wrote a variety of works in prose and verse. She was born September 1, 1791, and died June 10, 1865. She resided for many years in Hartford, Connecticut.
The steamboat Atlantic, plying between Norwich, in Connecticut, and New York, was wrecked on an island near New London. Many of the passengers were on their way to join in the celebration of the annual Thanksgiving in New England. The bell of this boat, supported by a portion of the wreck, continued for many days and nights to toll as if in mournful requiem of the lost.] 1. Toll, toll, toll,
Thou bell by billows swung;
Repeat with mournful tongue !
3. Toll for the man of God,
Whose hallowed voice of prayer
Of that intense despair !
On that sad verge of life,
And the mountain billows' strife!
4. Toll for the lover lost
To the summoned bridal train !
Beneath th' unfathomed main.
Long o'er the misty sea:
His heart is cold to thee.
5. Toll for the absent sire,
Who to his home drew near,
Fond wife and children dear!