Various
Fourth Reader
THE LOSS OF THE BIRKENHEAD
Right on our flanks the crimson sun went down;
The deep sea rolled around in dark repose;
When, like the wild shriek from some captured town,
A cry of women rose.
The stout ship Birkenhead lay hard and fast,
Caught, without hope, upon a hidden rock;
Her timbers thrill’d as nerves, when through them pass’d
The spirit of that shock.
And ever like base cowards who leave their ranks
In danger’s hour, before the rush of steel,
Drifted away, disorderly, the planks
From underneath her keel.
So calm the air, so calm and still the flood,
That low down in its blue translucent glass
We saw the great fierce fish that thirst for blood,
Pass slowly, then repass.
They tarried, the waves tarried, for their prey!
The sea turn’d one clear smile. Like things asleep
Those dark shapes in the azure silence lay,
As quiet as the deep.
Then amidst oath, and prayer, and rush, and wreck,
Faint screams, faint questions waiting no reply,
Our Colonel gave the word, and on deck
Form’d us in line to die.
To die! – ’twas hard, whilst the sleek ocean glow’d
Beneath a sky as fair as summer flowers:
All to the boats! cried one; – he was, thank God,
No officer of ours!
Our English hearts beat true: – we would not stir:
That base appeal we heard, but heeded not:
On land, on sea, we had our colors, Sir,
To keep without a spot!
They shall not say in England, that we fought,
With shameful strength, unhonor’d life to seek;
Into mean safety, mean deserters, brought
By trampling down the weak.
So we made women with their children go,
The oars ply back again, and yet again;
Whilst, inch by inch, the drowning ship sank low,
Still under steadfast men.
What followed, why recall? – the brave who died,
Died without flinching in the bloody surf:
They sleep as well, beneath that purple tide,
As others under turf: —
They sleep as well! and, roused from their wild grave,
Wearing their wounds like stars, shall rise again,
Joint-heirs with Christ, because they bled to save
His weak ones, not in vain.
– Sir Francis Hastings Doyle.
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning;
By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head,
And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone,
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame, fresh and gory!
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, —
But we left him alone with his glory.
– Charles Wolfe.
THE SECOND VOYAGE OF SINBAD
I desired, after my first voyage, to spend the rest of my days at Bagdad, but it was not long before I grew weary of an indolent life. My desire to trade revived. I bought goods suitable for the commerce I intended, and put to sea a second time with a number of my friends among the merchants. We traded from island to island, and exchanged our goods with great profit to ourselves.
At length one day we landed on an island covered with several kinds of fruit trees, but we could see neither man nor animal. We went to take a little fresh air in the meadows, along the streams that watered them. While some of the merchants amused themselves with gathering flowers and fruits, I filled my bag with food, and sat down near a stream between two high trees, which formed a thick shade. I made a good meal, and afterwards fell asleep. I cannot tell how long I slept, but when I awoke the ship was gone. I got up and looked around, but could not see any of my friends who had landed with me. I perceived the ship under sail, but so far away that I lost sight of her in a short time.
In this sad condition I was ready to die with grief. I cried out in agony, beat my head and breast, and threw myself upon the ground, where I lay some time in despair. I reproached myself a hundred times for not being content with the produce of my first voyage, which might have been sufficient for me all my life. But all this was in vain, and my repentance too late.
At last I resigned myself to my condition. Not knowing what to do, I climbed up to the top of a lofty tree, and looked about on all sides, to see if I could discover anything that could give me hopes. When I gazed towards the sea, I could see nothing but sky and water; but looking over the land I beheld something white, at so great a distance, however, that I could not distinguish what it was. I came down from the tree, and, taking what provisions I had, walked towards the object. As I approached, I thought it to be a white dome, of a great height and extent, and when I came up to it, I touched it, and found it to be very smooth. I examined it carefully to see if it was open on any side, but saw that it was not. It was, at least, fifty paces around, and so smooth that it was impossible for me to climb to the top.
Just before sunset the sky became as dark as if it had been covered with a thick cloud. I was much astonished at this sudden darkness, but much more when I found it caused by a bird of a monstrous size that came flying towards me. I remembered that I had often heard sailors speak of a miraculous bird called the roc, and concluded that the great dome which I so much admired must be its egg. In a few moments the bird alighted, and sat over the egg. As I perceived her coming, I crept close to the egg, so that I had before me one of her legs, which was as large as the trunk of a tree. I tied myself strongly to it with my turban, in hopes that the roc, next morning, would carry me with her out of this desert island.
As soon as it was daylight, the bird flew away and carried me so high that I could not discern the earth. She afterwards descended with so much rapidity that I almost lost my senses. But when I found myself on the ground, I speedily untied the knot. I had scarcely done so, when the roc, having taken up a large serpent in her bill, flew away.
The spot where I found myself was surrounded on all sides by mountains, that seemed to reach above the clouds, and so steep that there was no possibility of getting out of the valley. This was a new perplexity. When I compared this place with the desert island from which the roc had brought me, I found that I had gained nothing by the change.
As I walked through the valley, I saw that it was strewed with diamonds, some of which were of a surprising size. I took pleasure in looking upon them; but shortly saw at a distance a great number of serpents, so large that the smallest of them was capable of swallowing an elephant. The sight of these serpents greatly terrified me, and very much diminished the satisfaction I had derived from the diamonds.
I spent the day in exploring the valley, as I found that the serpents retired in the daytime to their dens, where they hid themselves from their enemy, the roc. When night came on, I went into a cave, and secured the entrance, which was low and narrow, with a great stone. I ate part of my provisions, but the serpents, which began hissing around me, put me into such extreme fear, that I could not sleep. When the sun rose, they disappeared and I came out of the cave trembling. I can justly say that I walked upon diamonds, without feeling any desire to touch them. At last I sat down, and, notwithstanding my fears, not having closed my eyes during the night, fell asleep. But I had scarcely shut my eyes when something that fell near by with a great noise awaked me. This was a large piece of raw meat, and at the same time I saw several others fall on the rocks in different places.
I had always regarded as fabulous the stories I had heard sailors and others relate of the valley of diamonds, and of the devices employed by merchants to obtain the jewels. Now I found that they had stated nothing but the truth. The fact is, that the merchants come to the neighborhood of this valley when the eagles have young ones, and throw great joints of meat into the valley; the diamonds upon whose points the joints fall stick to them. The eagles, which are stronger in this country than anywhere else, pounce upon these pieces of meat, and carry them to their nests on the precipices of the rock, to feed their young. The merchants at this time run to the nests, disturb and drive off the eagles by their shouts, and take away the diamonds that stick to the meat.
Until I perceived the device, I had concluded it to be impossible for me to escape from the valley which I regarded as my grave; but now I changed my opinion, and began to think upon the means of my deliverance. I collected the largest diamonds I could find, and put them into the leather bag in which I had carried my provisions. Then I took the largest of the pieces of meat, tied it close round me with the cloth of my turban, and laid myself upon the ground with my face downwards, the bag of diamonds being made fast to my girdle.
I had scarcely placed myself in this position when the eagles came. Each of them seized a piece of meat, and one of the strongest having taken me up, with the piece of meat to which I was fastened, carried me to his nest on the top of the mountain. The merchants immediately began their shouting to frighten the eagles; and when they had obliged them to quit their prey, one of them came to the nest where I was. He was much alarmed when he saw me; but recovering himself, instead of inquiring how I came thither, began to quarrel with me, and asked why I stole his goods. “You will treat me,” I replied, “with more civility, when you know me better. Do not be uneasy; I have diamonds enough for you and myself, more than all the other merchants together. Whatever they have they owe to chance, but I selected for myself in the bottom of the valley those which you see in this bag.” I had scarcely done speaking, when the other merchants came crowding about us, much astonished to see me. They were much more surprised, however, when I told them my story.
They conducted me to their encampment, and, when I had opened my bag, they were struck with wonder at the largeness of my diamonds, and confessed that in all the places they had visited they had never seen any of such size and perfection. I spent the night with them, and related my story a second time, for the satisfaction of those who had not heard it. I could not moderate my joy when I found myself delivered from the dangers I have mentioned. I thought myself in a dream, and could scarcely believe myself safe once more.
The merchants continued for several days to throw their pieces of meat into the valley, and when each was satisfied with the diamonds that had fallen to his lot, we left the place. We took shipping at the first port we reached, and finally landed at Bussorah, from whence I proceeded to Bagdad. There I immediately gave large presents to the poor, and lived honorably upon the vast riches I had gained with so much trouble and danger.
– The “Arabian Nights’ Entertainment.”
THE DAFFODILS
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils
Beside the lake beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.
– William Wordsworth.
THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA’S HALLS
The harp that once through Tara’s halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory’s thrill is o’er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more!
No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;
The chord alone that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To shew that still she lives.
– Thomas Moore.
THE HEROINE OF VERCHÈRES
Among the many incidents that are preserved of Frontenac’s second administration, none is so well worthy of record as the defence of the fort at Verchères by the young daughter of the seignior. Some years later the story was written down from the heroine’s own recital.
Verchères is on the south shore of the St. Lawrence, about twenty miles below Montreal. A strong blockhouse stood outside the fort, and was connected with it by a covered way.
On the morning of the twenty-second of October, 1692, the inhabitants were at work in the fields, and nobody was left in the place but two soldiers, two boys, an old man of eighty, and a number of women and children. The seignior was on duty at Quebec, and his wife was at Montreal. Their daughter Madeleine, fourteen years of age, was at the landing-place, not far from the gate of the fort, with a hired man. Suddenly she heard firing from the direction where the settlers were at work, and an instant after, the man cried out, “Run, Miss, run! here come the Iroquois!” She turned and saw forty or fifty of them at the distance of a pistol-shot. “I ran for the fort. The Iroquois who chased me, seeing that they could not catch me alive before I reached the gate, stopped and fired at me. The bullets whistled about my ears, and made the time seem very long. As soon as I was near enough to be heard, I cried out, ‘To arms! To arms!’ At the gate I found two women weeping for their husbands, who had just been killed. I made them go in, and then I shut the gate. I next thought what I could do to save myself and the few people who were with me.
“I went to inspect the fort, and found that several palisades had fallen down, and left openings by which the enemy could easily get in. I ordered them to be set up again, and helped to carry them myself. When the breaches were stopped, I went to the blockhouse where the ammunition was kept, and here I found the two soldiers, one hiding in a corner, and the other with a lighted match in his hand. ‘What are you going to do with that match?’ I asked. He answered, ‘Light the powder and blow us all up.’ ‘You are a miserable coward,’ said I; ‘go out of this place.’ I spoke so resolutely that he obeyed.
“I then threw off my bonnet; and after putting on a hat and taking a gun, I said to my two brothers: ‘Let us fight to the death. We are fighting for our country and our religion. Remember, our father has taught you that gentlemen are born to shed their blood for the service of God and the King.’ ”
The boys, who were twelve and ten years old, aided by the soldiers, whom her words had inspired with some little courage, began to fire from the loopholes upon the Iroquois. They, ignorant of the weakness of the garrison, showed their usual reluctance to attack a fortified place, and occupied themselves with chasing and butchering the people in the neighboring fields.
Madeleine ordered a cannon to be fired, partly to deter the enemy from an assault, and partly to warn some of the soldiers, who were hunting at a distance. Presently a canoe was seen approaching the landing-place. It contained a settler named Fontaine, and his family, who were trying to reach the fort. The Iroquois were still near, and Madeleine feared that the newcomers would be killed if something were not done to aid them. She appealed to the soldiers, but finding their courage was not equal to the attempt, she herself went to the landing-place, and was able to save the Fontaine family. When they were all landed, she made them march before her in full sight of the enemy. They put so bold a face on that the Iroquois thought they themselves had most to fear.
“After sunset a violent north-east wind began to blow, accompanied with snow and hail. The Iroquois were meanwhile lurking about us; and I judged by their movements that, instead of being deterred by the storm, they would climb into the fort under cover of the darkness. I assembled all my troops, that is to say, six persons, and spoke thus to them: ‘God has saved us to-day from the hands of our enemies, but we must take care not to fall into their snares to-night. I will take charge of the fort with an old man of eighty, and you, Fontaine, with our two soldiers, will go to the blockhouse with the women and children, because that is the strongest place. If I am taken, don’t surrender, even if I am cut to pieces and burned before your eyes. The enemy can’t hurt you in the blockhouse, if you make the least show of fight.’
“I placed my young brothers on two of the bastions, the old man on the third, while I took the fourth; and all night, in spite of wind, snow, and hail, the cries of ‘All’s well’ were kept up from the blockhouse to the fort, and from the fort to the blockhouse. The Iroquois thought the place was full of soldiers, and were completely deceived, as they confessed afterwards.
“I may say with truth that I did not eat or sleep for twice twenty-four hours, but kept always on the bastion, or went to the blockhouse to see how the people there were behaving. I always kept a cheerful and smiling face, and encouraged my little company with the hope of speedy succor.
“We were a week in constant alarm, with the enemy always about us. At last a lieutenant arrived in the night with forty men. I was at the time dozing, with my head on the table. The sentinel told me that he heard a voice from the river. I went up at once to the bastion and asked, ‘Who are you?’ One of them answered, ‘We are Frenchmen, who come to bring you help.’
“I caused the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there, and went down to the river to meet them. As soon as I saw the officer, I saluted him, and said, ‘Sir, I surrender my arms to you.’ He answered gallantly, ‘They are already in good hands.’
“He inspected the fort and found everything in order, and a sentinel on each bastion. ‘It is time to relieve them, sir,’ said I; ‘we have not been off our bastions for a week.’ ”
– Francis Parkman.
THE SLAVE’S DREAM
Beside the ungather’d rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand;
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his native land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flow’d;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode,
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasp’d his neck, they kiss’d his cheeks,
They held him by the hand:
A tear burst from the sleeper’s lids,
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger’s bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap, he could feel his scabbard of steel,
Smiting his stallion’s flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he follow’d their flight,
O’er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roof of Kaffir huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crush’d the reeds,
Beside some hidden stream;
And it pass’d, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the blast of the desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep, and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver’s whip,
Nor the burning heat of day,
For death had illumined the land of sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.