Fourth Reader

Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.
The good mate said, “Now must we pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone;
Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?”
“Why, say, ‘Sail on! sail on! and on!’ ”

“My men grow mutinous day by day,
My men grow ghastly wan, and weak.”
The stout mate thought of home; a spray
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
“What shall I say, brave Admiral, say,
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?”
“Why, you may say, at break of day,
‘Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!’ ”

They sailed and sailed as winds might blow,
Until at last the blanched mate said:
“Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
These very winds forget their way,
For God from these dread seas is gone.
Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say – ”
He said, “Sail on! sail on! and on!”

They sailed. They sailed. Then spoke the mate:
“This mad sea shows his teeth to-night;
He curls his lips, he lies in wait
With lifted teeth as if to bite;
Brave Admiral, say but one good word,
What shall we do when hope is gone?”
The words leaped like a leaping sword,
“Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!”

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! and then a speck,
“A light! A light! A light! A light!”
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time’s burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that world
Its grandest lesson: “On! sail on!”

    – Joaquin Miller.

OPPORTUNITY

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: —
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince’s banner
Wavered, then staggered backwards, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle’s edge,
And thought, “Had I a sword of keener steel —
That blue blade that the king’s son bears, – but this
Blunt thing – !” he snapt and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king’s son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh, he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.

    – Edward Rowland Sill.

TO-DAY

So here hath been dawning
Another blue day;
Think wilt thou let it
Slip useless away?

Out of eternity
This new day is born,
Into eternity,
At night, will return.

Behold it aforetime
No eye ever did;
So soon it forever
From all eyes is hid!

Here hath been dawning
Another blue day;
Think, wilt thou let it
Slip useless away?

    – Thomas Carlyle.

AN ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS

Many years ago there stood a town in Italy, at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, which was to Rome what Brighton or Hastings is to London – a very fashionable watering-place, at which Roman gentlemen and members of the senate built villas, to which they were in the habit of retiring from the fatigues of business or the broils of politics. The outsides of all the houses were adorned with frescoes, and every shop glittered with all the colors of the rainbow. At the end of each street there was a charming fountain, and any one who sat down beside it to cool himself had a delightful view of the Mediterranean, then as beautiful, as blue, and as sunny as it is now. On a fine day, crowds might be seen lounging here; some sauntering up and down in gala dresses of purple, while slaves passed to and fro, bearing on their heads splendid vases; others sat on marble benches, shaded from the sun by awnings, and having before them tables covered with wine, and fruit, and flowers. Every house in that town was a little palace, and every palace was like a temple, or one of our great public buildings.

On entering one of these mansions, the visitor passed through a vestibule decorated with rows of pillars, and then found himself in the room in which the household gods kept guard over the owner’s treasure, which was placed in a safe, or strong box, secured with brass or iron bands. Issuing thence, the visitor found himself in an apartment paved with mosaic, and decorated with paintings, in which were kept the family papers and archives. It contained a dining room and a supper room, and a number of sleeping rooms; a cabinet, filled with rare jewels and antiquities, and sometimes a fine collection of paintings; and, last of all, a pillared peristyle, opening out upon the garden, in which the finest fruit hung temptingly in the rich light of a golden sky, and fountains, which flung their waters aloft in every imaginable form and device, cooled the air and discoursed sweet music to the ear. On the gate there was always the image of a dog, and underneath it the inscription, “Beware the dog.”

The pillars in the peristyle were encircled with garlands of flowers, which were renewed every morning. The tables of citron-wood were inlaid with silver; the couches were of bronze, gilt and jewelled, and were furnished with thick cushions and tapestry, embroidered with marvellous skill. When the master gave a dinner party, the guests reclined upon these cushions, washed their hands in silver basins, and dried them with napkins fringed with purple. They ate oysters brought from the shores of Britain, kids which were carved to the sound of music, and fruits served up on ice in the hottest days of summer; and while the cup-bearers filled their golden cups with the rarest and most delicate wines, other attendants crowned them with flowers wet with dew, and dancers executed for their pleasure the most graceful movements.

One day, when such festivities as these were in full activity, Vesuvius sent up a tall and very black column of smoke, something like a pine-tree; and suddenly, in broad noonday, darkness black as pitch came over the scene! There was a frightful din of cries and groans, mingled confusedly together. The brother lost his sister, the husband his wife, the mother her child; for the darkness became so dense that nothing could be seen but the flashes which every now and then darted forth from the summit of the neighboring mountain. The earth trembled, the houses shook and began to fall, and the sea rolled back from the land as if terrified; the air became thick with dust; and then, amidst tremendous and awful noise, a shower of ashes and stones fell upon the town and blotted it out forever!