Toss the light ball-bestride the stick (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!) (He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!) Thou pretty opening rose ! (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose !) Balmy and breathing music like the South, (He really brings my heart into my mouth!) Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,— (I wish that window had an iron bar!) Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove,(I'll tell you what, my love, I cannot write, unless he's sent above!) T. Hood. XXXIX. INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP. OU know, we French stormed Ratisbon : A mile or so away On a little mound, Napoléon Stood on our storming day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Just as perhaps he mused 'My plans Let once my army-leader Lannes Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy, You looked twice ere you saw his breast 'Well,' cried he, 'Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon ! The Marshal's in the Market-place, And you'll be there anon Where I, to heart's desire, Perched him!' The Chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire. The Chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes : 'You're wounded!' 'Nay,' his soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said: 'I'm killed, Sire!' And, his Chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead. R. Browning. XL. THE FORSAKEN MERMAN. OME dear children, let us away; Now my brothers call from the bay ; This way, this way. Call her once before you go. In a voice that she will know : Children's voices should be dear 'Mother dear, we cannot stay.' Come dear children, come away down. One last look at the white-walled town, She will not come though you call all day. Children dear, was it yesterday We heard the sweet bells over the bay? Through the surf and through the swell, Where the spent lights quiver and gleam; When did music come this way? Children dear, was it yesterday Once she sat with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea. She combed its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of the far-off bell, She sighed, she looked up through the clear green sea, She said, 'I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 'Twill be Easter-time in the world-ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee." I said: 'Go up, dear heart, through the waves : Children dear, were we long alone? Long prayers,' I said, 'in the world they say.' ‘Come,' I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach in the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-walled town, Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still To the little grey church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But we stood without in the cold-blowing airs. We climbed on the graves on the stones worn with rains, Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here. But, ah! she gave me never a look, For her eyes were sealed to the holy book. 'Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.' Come away, children, call no more, Come away, come down, call no more. Down, down, down, Down to the depths of the sea, She sits at her wheel in the humming town, Singing most joyfully. Hark what she sings: 'O joy, O joy, From the humming street, and the child with its toy, From the wheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun.' And so she sings her fill, Singing most joyfully, Till the shuttle falls from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still. She steals to the window and looks at the sand, And her eyes are set in a stare ; |