Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves ! " She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.
Children dear, was it yesterday ?
Children dear, were we long alone?
"The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; 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, by 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, And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear : "Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here! Dear heart, " I said, "we are long alone.
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. " 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: " Oh joy, oh joy,
For the humming street, and the child with its toy! For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well- For 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 over the sand at the sea;And her eyes are set in a stare; And anon there breaks a sigh, And anon there drops a tear, From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden,A long, long sigh;
For the cold, strange eyes of a little Mermaiden, And the gleam of her golden hair.
Come away, away, children! Come children, come down! The hoarse wind blows colder; Lights shine in the town.
She will start from her slumber, When gusts shake the door;She will hear the winds howling, She will hear the waves roar. We shall see, while above us, The waves roar and whirl,A ceiling of amber,
A pavement of pearl. Singing, " Here came a mortal,But faithless was she; And alone dwell for ever, The kings of the sea. "But, children, at midnight, When soft the winds blow; When clear falls the moonlight, When spring-tides are low; When sweet airs come seawardFrom heaths starred with broom; And high rocks throw mildlyOn the blanched sands a gloom; Up the still, glistening beaches, Up the creeks we will hie,Over banks of bright seaweed The ebb-tide leaves dry.
We will gaze, from the sand-hills, At the white, sleeping town;At the church on the hill-side- And then come back down. Singing, "There dwells a loved one, But cruel is she!
She left lonely for ever, The kings of the sea. "Matthew Arnold.
Author.-Matthew Arnold (1822-1888), a great English poetand one of England"s foremost literary critics. His publications include The Strayed Reveller and Other Poems, Empedocles on Etna and Other Poems, Sohrab and Rustum, The Scholar Gipsy, Balder Dead and Separation, Merope, Thyrsis, and New Poems. His chief works in literary criticism are On Translating Homer, On the Study of Celtic Literature, Essays in Criticism, Culture and Anarchy, and Friendship"s Garland. He was for a time an inspector of schools. His father was a great schoolmaster, Arnold of Rugby.
General Notes.-In this poem the merman had married a mortal, who deserted her children to go back to her people on shore. Compare the Sirens who tried to beguile Ulysses, Neckan with his harp of gold, the Danish nixies, Undine, the female water-sprite who married a mortal, etc. Which lines do you think have the best (a) colour picture, (b) sound? Write a fanciful tale of a mermaid who married a mortal.
LESSON 45
DON QuIXOTE AND THE WINDmIllS
Don Quixote earnestly solicited one of his neighbours, a country labourer and a good honest fellow, Sancho Panza by name, poor in purse, and poor in his brains; and, in short, the knight talked so long to him, plied him with so many arguments, and made him so many fair promises that at last the poor clown consented to go along with him and become his squire. Among other inducements Don Quixote forgot not to tell him that it was likely such an adventure would present itself as might secure him the conquest of some island in the time that he might be picking up a straw or two, and then the squire might promise himself to be made governor of the place. Allured with these large promises and many others, Sancho Panza forsook his wife and children to be his neighbour"s squire.
This done. Don Quixote made it his business to furnish himself with money; to which purpose, selling one house, mortgaging another, and losing by all, he at last got a pretty good sum together. He also borrowed a target of a friend, and, having patched up his headpiece and beaver as well as he could, he gave his squire notice of the day and hour when he intended to set out, that he might furnish himself with what he thought necessary. Above all, he charged him to provide himself with a knapsack. This Sancho promised to do, tellinghim he would also take his ass along with him, which, being a very good one, might be a great ease to him, for he was not used to travel much afoot.
The mentioning of the ass made the noble knight pause awhile; he mused and pondered whether he had ever read of any knight-errant whose squire used to ride upon an ass, but he could not remember any precedent for it; however, he gave him leave at last to bring his ass, hoping to mount him more honourably, with the first opportunity, by unhorsing the next discourteous knight he should meet.