THE MILLER OF THE DEE. 181 But, hush!-he is dreaming! A veil on the main, At the distant horizon, is parted in twain; And now, on his dreaming eye, rapturous sight! Fresh bursts the New World from the darkness of night! Oh, vision of glory! how dazzling it seems! How glistens the verdure! how sparkle the streams! How blue the far mountains! how glad the green isles! And the earth and the ocean, how dimpled with smiles! "Joy! joy!" cries Columbus, "this region is mine!" Ah! not e'en its name, wondrous dreamer, is thine! At length o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks; "Land! land!" cry the sailors; "land! land!" He awakes; He runs;-yes, behold it!-it blesseth his sight. The land! Oh, dear spectacle! transport! delight! Oh, generous sobs, which he cannot restrain! What will Ferdinand say ?—and the Future? and Spain ? He will lay this fair land at the foot of the throne, His king will repay all the ills he has known. In exchange for a world, what are honours and gains ? Or a crown? But how is he rewarded?-with chains! THE MILLER OF THE DEE. C. MACKAY. THERE dwelt a miller hale and bold, He work'd and sang from morn to night, And this the burden of his song "I envy nobody: no, not I, And nobody envies me !" "Thou'rt wrong, my friend!" said old King Hal, And tell me now what makes thee sing While I am sad, though I'm the king, The miller smiled and doff'd his cap: I owe no penny I cannot pay: I thank the river Dee, That turns the mill that grinds the corn, "Good friend," said Hal, and sigh'd the while, "Farewell! and happy be: But say no more, if thou'dst be true, That no one envies thee. Thy mealy cap is worth my crown, Such men as thou are England's boast, AGAINST LYING. GOD PROVIDETH FOR THE MORROW. REGINALD HEBER. Lo, the lilies of the field, How their leaves instruction yield! By the blessed birds of heaven; "Say, with richer crimson glows Barns, nor hoarded grain have we, Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow, "One there lives, whose guardian eye One there lives, who, Lord of all, Free from doubt and faithless sorrow! AGAINST LYING. DR. WATTS. OH! 'tis a lovely thing for youth That we may trust to all they say ! 183 But liars we can never trust, Though they should speak the thing that's true; And he that does one fault at first, And lies to hide it, makes it two. Have we not known, nor heard, nor read, Caught with a lie upon his tongue? So did his wife Sapphira die, That just before her husband told. The Lord delights in them that speak Must have his portion in the lake liar That burns with brimstone and with fire. Then let me always watch my lips, THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD. H. W. LONGFELLOW. WE sat within the farm-house old, Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold, THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD. Not far away we saw the port, The strange, old-fashioned, silent town, We sat and talked until the night, Our voices only broke the gloom. We spake of many a vanished scene, Of what we once had thought and said, And all that fills the hearts of friends, The first slight swerving of the heart, And leave it still unsaid in part, Or say it in too great excess. The very tones in which we spake Had something strange, I could but mark; The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark, Oft died the words upon our lips, Built of the wreck of stranded ships, The flames would leap and then expire. 185 |