Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

So Sam, somewhat scared, sauntered slowly, shaking stupendously. Sam soliloquizes:

"Sophia Sophronia Spriggs Short-Sophia Sophronia Short, Samuel Short's spouse-sounds splendid! Suppose she should say-she sha'n't!"

Soon Sam spied Sophia starching shirts, singing softly. Seeing Sam she stopped starching; saluted Sam smilingly; Sam stammered shockingly.

"Sp-sp-splendid summer season, Sophia."

"Somewhat sultry," suggested Sophia.

"Sar-sartin, Sophia," said Sam.

Dnds.)

"Selling saddles still, Sam?"

(Silence seventeen sec

"Sar-sar-sartin," said Sam, starting suddenly.

"Season's

somewhat soporific," said Sam, stealthily staunching streaming sweat, shaking sensibly.

"Sartin," said Sophia, smiling significantly. "Sip some sweet sherbet, Sam." (Silence sixty seconds.)

"Sire shot sixty sheldrakes, Saturday," said Sophia. "Sixty? sho!" said Sam. (Silence seventy-seven séconds.)

"See sister Susan's sunflowers," said Sophia, sociably scattering such stiff silence.

Sophia's sprightly sauciness stimulated Sam strangely: so Sam suddenly spoke sentimentally: "Sophia, Susan's sunflowers seem saying, "Samuel Short, Sophia Sophronia Spriggs, stroll serenely, seek some sequestered spot, some sylvan shade. Sparkling Spring shall sing soul-soothing strains; sweet songsters shall silence secret sighing; super angelic sylphs shall—””

Sophia snickered: so Sam stopped.

"Sophia," said Sam, solemnly.

"Sam," said Sophia.

"Sophia, stop smiling. Sam Short's sincere. Sam's seeking some sweet spouse, Sophia.

"Speak, Sophia, speak! Such suspense speculates sorrow." "Seek sire, Sam, seek sire."

So Sam sought sire Spriggs. Sire Spriggs said, "Sartin."

MAHMOUD.-LEIGH HUNT.

There came a man, making his hasty moan
Before the Sultan Mahmoud on his throne,
And crying out, "My sorrow is my right,
And I will see the Sultan, and to-night."
Sorrow," said Mahmoud, " is a reverend thing:
I recognize its right, as king with king;
Speak on." "A fiend has got into my house,"
Exclaimed the staring man, "and tortures us:
One of thine officers; he comes, the abhorred,
And takes possession of my house, my board,
My bed :-Î have two daughters and a wife,

And the wild villain comes and makes me mad with life." "Is he there now?" said Mahmoud. "No;-he left

The house when I did, of my wits bereft,

And laughed me down the street, because I vowed

I'd bring the prince himself to lay him in his shroud.

I'm mad with want-I'm mad with misery,

And O thou Sultan Mahmoud, God cries out for thee!"

The Sultan comforted the man, and said,

"Go home, and I will send thee wine and bread,”

(For he was poor) "and other comforts. Go:

And should the wretch return, let Sultan Mahmoud know."

In three days' time, with haggard eyes and beard,

And shaken voice, the suitor re-appeared,

And said, "He's come." Mahmoud said not a word,

But rose and took four slaves, each with a sword,

And went with the vexed man. They reach the place,
And hear a voice, and see a woman's face,

That to the window fluttered in affright:

“Go in," said Mahmoud, “and put out the light;
But tell the females first to leave the room;
And when the drunkard follows them, we come."

The man went in. There was a cry, and hark!—
A table falls, the window is struck dark:
Forth rush the breathless women; and behind
With curses comes the fiend in desperate mind.
In vain: the sabres soon cut short the strife,

And chop the shrieking wretch, and drink his bloody life.

[ocr errors]

Now light the light," the Sultan cried aloud:

'Twas done: he took it in his hand and bowed

Over the corpse, and looked upon the face;
Then turned and knelt, and to the throne of grace

[ocr errors]

Put up a prayer, and from his lips there crept
Some gentle words of pleasure, and he wept.

In reverent silence the beholders wait,

Then bring him at his call both wine and meat;
And when he had refreshed his noble heart,
He bade his host be blest, and rose up to depart.

The man amazed, all mildness now and tears,
Fell at the Sultan's feet with many prayers,
And begged him to vouchsafe to tell his slave
The reason first of that command he gave
About the light; then, when he saw the face,
Why he knelt down; and lastly, how it was
That fare so poor as his detained him in the place.

The Sultan said, with a benignant eye,

"Since first I saw thee come, and heard thy cry, I could not rid me of a dread, that one

By whom such daring villanies were done,

Must be some lord of mine,-ay, e'en perhaps a son.
For this I had the light put out: but when
I saw the face, and found a stranger slain,

I knelt and thanked the sovereign Arbiter,

Whose work I had performed through pain and fear; And then I rose and was refreshed with food,

The first time since thy voice had marred my solitude."

THE WIVES OF BRIXHAM.

A TRUE STORY.

You see the gentle water,
How silently it floats;
How cautiously, how steadily,
It moves the sleepy boats;
And all the little loops of pearl
It strews along the sand,
Steal out as leisurely as leaves
When summer is at hand. ·

But you know it can be angry,
And thunder from its rest,
When the stormy taunts of winter
Are flying at its breast;

And if you like to listen,

And draw your chairs around, I'll tell you what it did one night When you were sleeping sound.

The merry boats of Brixham
Go out to search the seas;
A staunch and sturdy fleet are they,
Who love a swinging breeze;
And before the woods of Devon,
And the silver clits of Wales,

You may see, when summer evenings fall,
The light upon their sails.

But when the year grows darker,
And grey winds hunt the foam,
They go back to Little Brixham,
And ply their toil at home.

And thus it chanced one winter's night,
When a storm began to roar,
That the sailors all were out at sea,
And all the wives on shore.

Then as the wind grew fiercer,

The women's cheeks grew white,

It was fiercer in the twilight,

And fiercest in the night;

The strong clouds set themselves like ice,
Without a star to melt,

The blackness of the darkness

Was darkness to be felt.

The storm, like an assassin,

Went on its wicked way,

And struck a hundred boats adrift,

To reel about the bay.

They meet, they crash,-God keep the men! God give a moment's light!

There is nothing but the tumult,

And the tempest, and the night.

The men on shore were anxious,-
They dreaded what they knew;
What do you think the women did?
Love taught them what to do!
Outspake a wife, "We've beds at home,
We'll burn them for a light,-
Give us the men and the bare ground!
We want no more to-night.”

80

They took the grandame's blanket,
Who shivered and bade them go;
They took the baby's pillow,

Who could not say them no;

And they heaped a great fire on the pier;
And knew not all the while
If they were heaping a bonfire,
Or only a funeral pile.

And, fed with precious food, the flame
Shone bravely on the black,

Till a cry rang through the people,
"A boat is coming back!"
Staggering dimly through the fog,
Come shapes of fear and doubt;
But when the first prow strikes the pier,
Cannot you hear them shout?

Then all along the breadth of flame
Dark figures shrieked and ran,

With, "Child, here comes your father!"
Or," Wife, is this your man?"

And faint feet touch the welcome stone,
And wait a little while;

And kisses drop from frozen lips,
Too tired to speak or smile.

So, one by one, they struggled in,
All that the sea would spare;
We will not reckon through our tears
The names that were not there;
But some went home without a bed,
When all the tale was told,
Who were too cold with sorrow
To know the night was cold.

And this is what the men must do
Who work in wind and foam;
And this is what the women bear
Who watch for them at home.
So when you see a Brixham boat
Go out to face the gales,
Think of the love that travels
Like light upon her sails.

« AnteriorContinuar »