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Ham watches the sea, standing alone, with the silence of suspended breath behind him, and the storm before, until there is a great retiring wave, when, with a backward glance at those who hold the rope which is made fast round his body, he dashes in after it and in a moment is buffeting with the water; rising with the hills, falling with the valleys, lost beneath the rugged foam,-borne in toward the shore,-borne on toward the ship,-striving hard and valiantly. The distance is nothing, but the power of the sea and wind makes the strife deadly. At length he nears the wreck. He is so near that with one of his vigorous strokes he will be clinging to it-when a high, green, vast hillside of water, moving on shoreward, from beyond the ship, seems to leap up into it with a mighty bound, and the ship is gone! They haul in hastily, but consternation is seen in every face-for there at their feet lies poor old Ham-dead! He had been beaten to death by the great wave and his generous heart was stilled forever. And as they bend compassionately over the form of their brave young comrade, another body is washed ashore-that of the solitary figure which had been seen alone upon the mast, -and there next to him whom he had so unjustly wronged, lay the dead body of James Steerforth!

COMO

BY JOAQUIN MILLER

The red-clad fishers row and creep

Below the crags, as half asleep,
Nor even make a single sound.

The walls are steep,

The waves are deep;

And if the dead man should be found

By these fishers in their round,

Why, who shall say but he was drowned?

The lake lay bright, as bits of broken moon
Just newly set within the cloven earth;
The ripened fields drew round a golden girth
Far up the steppes, and glittered in the noon.
And when the sun fell down, from leafy shore
Fond lovers stole in pairs to ply the oar.

The stars, as large as lilies, flecked the blue;
From out the Alps the moon came wheeling through
This rocky pass the great Napoleon knew.

A gala night it was-the season's prime;
We rode from castled lake to festal town,
To fair Milan-my friend and I; rode down
By night, where grasses waved in rippled rhyme;
And so what theme but love in such a time?
His proud lip curved the while in silent scorn
At thought of love; and then, as one forlorn,
He sighed, then bared his temples, dashed with gray,
Then mocked, as one outworn and well blasé.

A gorgeous tiger-lily, flaming red,

So full of battle, of the trumpet's blare,
Of old-time passion, upreared its head.

I galloped past, I leaned, I clutched it there.
From out the long strong grass I held it high,

And cried "Lo! this to-night shall deck her hair.
Through all the dance. And mark! the man shall die
Who dares assault, for good or ill design,

The citadel where I shall set this sign.'

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He spoke no spare word all the after while.
That scornful, cold, contemptuous smile of his!
Why, better men have died for less than this.
Then in the hall the same old hateful smile!
Then marvel not that when she graced the floor,
With all the beauties gathered from the four
Far quarters of the world, and she, my fair,
The fairest, wore within her midnight hair
My tiger-lily-marvel not, I say,

That he glared like some wild beast well at bay!

Oh, she shone fairer than the summer star,
Or curled sweet moon in middle destiny.
More fair than sunrise climbing up the sea,
Where all the loves of Ariadne are.

Who loves, who truly loves, will stand aloof,
The noisy tongue makes most unholy proof
Of shallow waters,-all the while afar

From out the dance I stood, and watched my star,
My tiger-lily, borne an oriflamme of war.

A thousand beauties flashed at love's advance;
Like bright white mice at moonlight in their play,
Or sunfish shooting in the shining bay,

The swift feet shot and glittered in the dance.
Oh, have you loved, and truly loved, and seen
Aught else the while than your own stately queen?

Her presence, it was majesty-so tall;

Her proud development encompassed-all.

She filled all space. I sought, I saw but her.
I followed as some fervid worshiper.

Adown the dance she moved with matchless pace.
The world-my world-moved with her. Suddenly
I questioned whom her cavalier might be.
'Twas he! His face was leaning to her face!

I clutched my blade; I sprang; I caught my breath,

And so stood leaning still as death.

And they stood still. She blushed, then reached and tore

The lily as she passed, and down the floor

She strewed its heart like bits of gushing gore.

'Twas he said heads, not hearts, were made to break.
He taught me this that night in splendid scorn.

I learned too well. The dance was done. Ere morn
We mounted-he and I-but no more spake.
And this for woman's love! My lily worn
In her dark hair in pride to be thus torn
And trampled on for this bold stranger's sake!
Two men rode silent back toward the lake.
Two men rode silent down, but only one
Rode up at morn to greet the rising sun.

The walls are steep,

The waves are deep;

And if the dead man should be found
By red-clad fishers in their round,

Why, who shall say but he was-drowned?

THE REVENGE

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:

"Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: 'Fore God I am no

coward;

66

But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward;

You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord
Howard,

To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."

So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day, Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven; But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land

Very carefully and slow,

Men of Bideford in Devon,

And we laid them on the ballast down below;

For we brought them all aboard,

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