And now, now comes the glorious moment. We are upon them; we shall save them. No; they are giving way, they will be lost, and we within a hundred yards of them. The crisis is bitter in its intensity. The coxswain of the Whitby boat, Henry Freeman, turns to his crew, and in his great, deep voice cries, " Now, my lads, give them a rousing cheer "; and, over the scream of the gale, and over the roar of the sea, and over the hiss of the brine, goes up the Vikings" shout, the shout of victory !
Oh, it was a glorious day, a strife of giants, a triumph of heroes ! Imagine the delighted enthusiasm, the frantic excitement of the crowd when the shipwrecked crew was landed on that dangerous rocky shore, snatched from the very jaws of death-saved, saved to a man !-saved by the dauntless courage and magnificently heroic devotion of the fishermen of Whitby, who brought their life-boat overland.
Robert Blatchford
Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
Tennyson
Author.-Robert Blatchford, born in 1851, is a living English journalist and author, sometime joint editor of The Clarion. His chief books areMerrie England, A Son of the Forge, Britain for the British, Not Guilty, TheSorcery Shop.
General-Look up Whitby on the storm-beaten coast of Yorkshire. C?dmon, the first English writer of note, and the sainted abbess Hilda, referred to in Scott"s Marmion, lived at Whitby. Find the dictionary meanings of "jolly-boat, " "quarter-board, " "brig, " " Viking, " "coxswain. " Visualize the scene at dawn, the overland journey, the final struggle, the triumphant ending. Do you like the short, sharp sentences, full of fire and enthusiasm? List such metaphors as "a strife of giants, " " the blood of the Vikings is on fire. " Where does the very sound of the words echo the sense?
Lesson 11
THERE"S A LAND
There"s a land that is happy and fair, Set gem-like in halcyon seas;The white winters visit not there To sadden its blossoming leas; More bland than the Hesperides,Or any warm isle of the West-
Where the wattle-bloom perfumes the breeze, And the bell-bird builds her nest.
When the oak and the elm are bare,
And wild winds vex the shuddering trees, Here, the clematis whitens the air,And the husbandman laughs as he sees The grass rippling green to his knees,And his vineyards in emerald drest-
Where the wattle-bloom bends on the breeze, And the bell-bird builds her nest.
What land is with this to compare?
Not the green hills of Hybla, with bees Honey-sweet, are more radiant and rareIn colour and fragrance than these
Boon shores, where the storm-clouds cease, And the wind and the wave are at rest-Where the wattle-bloom waves in the breeze, And the bell-bird builds her nest.
ENVOY
My friend, let them praise as they please Other lands, but we know which is best-Where the wattle-bloom perfumes the breeze, And the bell-bird builds her nest.
Robert Richardson
Author.-Robert Richardson (1850-1901) was born in New South Wales: he died in England. His book of poems, Wattle and Willow, was published in Edinburgh.
General.-The poem is a ballade, a form of verse invented by the early French minstrels known as the troubadours (troo"-bah-doorz"). The ballade is limited to three stanzas of eight lines each, followed by a stanza of four lines, called the envoy, addressed to some person. How many rhymes are there, and how often do they recur? " Halcyon " means calm or fair, from the legend that, when the kingfisher (Halcyone) brooded on the waves, the sea was peaceful. The Hesperides were the daughters of Hesperus, the evening star. The name is here used for the gardens in which they watched over the fabled golden apples. Hybla was an ancient Sicilian town noted for its honey. Compare this description of Australia with " My Country. " Which is the more joyous? Which is better balanced?
Lesson 12
A LOVER OF THE BUSH
All through his life, he kept his heart unchanged within him-the simple, honest heart of a little child. And ever, throughout his life, the Bush called to him and he heard it.
Day after day he would wander through the deep, fern- grown gullies, and over the ridges crowned with musk and hazel, seeing much that most men never see, harming nothing, loving all. The Bush talked to him as it talks only to those who know and love it-those to whom every stone, every tree, every rustle tells its own story.
Drawn by Nancy Liddelow
"He sought the great rock in the creek. "
The birds and other animals came about him fearlessly; there was something in the grave, happy face that told them he was their friend. So he would live for many days; and it seemed to him that every day taught him more of the great lessons that Nature holds for those who have understanding to read her aright.
He would watch the dawn creep over the tree-tops, tingeing the tender greens with a strange, rosy flush that turned every hanging dewdrop into a flawless gem; seeing, as he lay, the night animals wander past him on their way to rest, while those of the day rose up to greet him with a hundred voices. In the heat of the day, he sought the great rock in the creek, in whose cool hollows, fringed with maidenhair, he could sit and dream strange dreams that the world would never understand. But, at night, when the world sleeps, but the Bush wakes up, came the best time of all. Then it seemed to him that he was most in touch with the ceaseless, invisible life about him; and he would wander through the scrub, smiling gravely, ever and anon, at some bird or animal that flitted by in the moonlight; treading so quietly as not to disturb the very shyest of them all. For to him the Bush had given that peace which comes to one who loves Nature truly; who, from the roar of the world, turns to the hush of the forest, to find rest like a tired child.
Mary Grant Bruce, in Timothy in Bushland