Colder and louder blew the wind,

A gale from the north-east
The snow fell hissing in the brine,

And the billows frothed like yeast.

Down came the storm, and smote amain,

The vessel in its strength;

She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable's length.

"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so,

For I can weather the roughest gale,

That ever wind did blow."

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat

Against the stinging blast;

He cut a rope from a broken spar,

And bound her to the mast.

"O father! I hear the church bells ring, say, what may it be?"

""Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!" And he steered for the open sea.

"O father! I hear the sound of guns, O say what may it be?"

"Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea!"

“O father! I see a gleaming light,

O say what may it be?"

But the father answered never a word,

A frozen corpse was he.

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,

With his face to the skies,

The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fixed and glassy eyes.

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be ;

And she thought of Christ who stilled the wave,
On the lake of Galilee.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear.
Through the whistling sleet and snow,

Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.

THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.

And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land;
It was the sound of the trampling surf,
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,

And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,

But the cruel rocks they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.

Her rattling shrouds all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho! ho! the breakers roared!

At day-break on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,

To see the form of a maiden fair,
Lashed close to a drifting mast.

The salt sea was frozen on her breast,

The salt tears in her eyes;

And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,

On the billows fall and rise.

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,

In the midnight and the snow!

Christ save us all from a death like this,

On the reef of Norman's Woe!

211

LONGFELLOW.

XXIV. THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.

"AND I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works."-Rev. xx. 12 and 13.

WHAT hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells,
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main?
—Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-coloured shells,
Bright things which gleam unrecked of, and in vain.
--Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea!

We ask not such from thee.

Yet more, the depths have more! What wealth untold
Far down, and shining through their stillness lies!
Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal argosies.

-Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main!
Earth claims not these again!

Yet more, the depths have more! Thy waves have rolled
Above the cities of a world gone by!

Sand hath filled up the palaces of old,

Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry!

-Dash o'er them, ocean! in thy scornful play-
Man yields them to decay!

Yet more! the billows and the depths have more!
High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast!
They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle-thunders will not break their rest,
-Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave---
Give back the true and brave!

Give back the lost and lovely! those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long,
The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom,
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song!
Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown,—
But all is not thine own!

To thee the love of woman hath gone down,
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head,
O'er youth's bright locks and beauty's flowery crown;
-Yet must thou hear a voice-Restore the dead!
Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee-
Restore the dead, thou sea!

MRS. HEMANS,

THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

XXV. FORMS OF PRAYER AT SEA.

213

"As soon as the conquest was completed, Nelson sent orders through the fleet to return thanksgiving in every ship for the victory with which Almighty God had blessed His Majesty's arms. The French at Rosetta, who with miserable fear beheld the engagement, were at a loss to understand the stillness of the fleet during the performance of this solemn duty; but it seemed to affect many of the prisoners, officers as well as men: and graceless and godless as the officers were, some of them remarked, that it was no wonder such order was preserved in the British navy, when the minds of our men could be impressed with such sentiments after so great a victory, and at a moment of such confusion."-Southey's Life of Nelson.

To kneeling worshippers no earthly floor
Gives holier invitation than the deck

Of a storm-shattered vessel saved from wreck
(When all that man could do availed no more)
By Him who raised the tempest and restrains:
Happy the crew who this have felt, and pour
Forth for His mercy, as the Church ordains,
Solemn thanksgiving. Nor will they implore
In vain who, for a rightful cause, give breath
To words the Church prescribes, aiding the lip
For the heart's sake, ere ship with hostile ship
Encounters, armed for work of pain and death.
Suppliants! the God to whom your cause ye trust
Will listen, and ye know that He is just.

WORDSWORTH.

XXVI. THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

"THE Royal George was a first-rate man-of-war, of one hundred guns, overset off Spithead while at anchor, by the guns rolling to one side, and suddenly going down. By this dreadful catastrophe, Admiral Kempenfeldt, and a crew of many hundreds of seamen and marines, with nearly a hundred women, and two hundred Jews and others on board, were drowned, June 28, 1782. A few persons only were saved, nearly a thousand perished. By the use of the diving-bell, this ship was surveyed, imbedded in the deep, in May 1817, et seq., since when several successive gunpowder explosions have brought up numerous portions of the wreck."-Haydn's Dictionary of Dates.

TOLL for the brave!

The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave,
Fast' by their native shore!

Eight hundred of the brave,
Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel,2

And laid her on her side.

A land-breeze shook the shrouds,
And she was overset ;
Down went the Royal George
With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave!

Brave Kempenfelt is gone,
His last sea-fight is fought,
His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle,
No tempest gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak,
She ran upon no rock.

His sword was in its sheath,
His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfelt went down,
With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the vessel up,

Once dreaded by our foes!
And mingle with our cup,

The tear that England owes.

Her timbers yet are sound,

And she may float again,

Full charged with England's thunder,
And plough the distant main.

But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the wave no more.

1. What other phrases are used instead of fast by?

COWPER.

2. Heel is a nautical phrase signifying to incline or lean.

XXVII. THE SEA.

"In general, the sea is considered only in a terrible point of view; without reflecting on the wonders and blessings it so visibly presents We cannot, indeed, deny that the sea is a most formidable element, when its waves swell mountain high, and the tempest

to us.