Never, I ween, did swimmer, In such an evil case, Struggle through such a raging flood Safe to the landing-place: But his limbs were borne up bravely By the brave heart within; And our good father Tiber Bore bravely up his chin.

"Curse on him!" quoth false s.e.xtus; "Will not the villain drown?

But for this stay, ere close of day We should have sacked the town!"

"Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "And bring him safe to sh.o.r.e; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before."

And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands; Now round him throng the Fathers To press his gory hands; And now, with shouts and clapping, And noise of weeping loud, He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd.

They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plow from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And set it up on high, And there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie.

It stands in the Comitium, Plain for all folk to see; Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee: And underneath is written, In letters all of gold, How valiantly he kept the bridge, In the brave days of old.

And still his name sounds stirring Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet-blast that cries to them To charge the Volscian home; And wives still pray to Juno For boys with hearts as bold As his who kept the bridge so well In the brave days of old.

And in the nights of winter, When the cold north winds blow, And the long howling of the wolves Is heard amidst the snow; When round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within;

When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armor, And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom; With weeping and with laughter Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old.

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.]

SAY NOT, THE STRUGGLE NAUGHT AVAILETH.

Say not, the struggle naught availeth, The labor and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

ON HIS BLINDNESS.

When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He, returning, chide,-- "Doth G.o.d exact day-labor, light denied?"

I fondly ask:--But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "G.o.d doth not need Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed And post o'er land and ocean without rest:-- They also serve who only stand and wait."

JOHN MILTON.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.]

THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP.

A SELECTION.

All is finished! and at length Has come the bridal day Of beauty and of strength.

To-day the vessel shall be launched!

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, And o'er the bay, Slowly, in all his splendors dight, The great sun rises to behold the sight.

On the deck another bride Is standing by her lover's side.

Shadows from the flags and shrouds, Like the shadows cast by clouds, Broken by many a sunny fleck, Fall around them on the deck.

Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the sh.o.r.es and spurs.

And see! she stirs!

She starts,--she moves,--she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!

Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife, And safe from all adversity Upon the bosom of that sea Thy comings and thy goings be!

For gentleness and love and trust Prevail o'er angry wave and gust; And in the wreck of n.o.ble lives Something immortal still survives!

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!

Sail on, O UNION, strong and great!

Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate!

We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'Tis of the wave and not the rock; Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale!

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the sh.o.r.e, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee,--are all with thee!

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

OF OLD SAT FREEDOM.