285 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,
290 Fall around them on the deck.

The prayer is said,

The service read,

The joyous bridegroom bows his head; And in tears the good old Master 295 Shakes the brown hand of his son, Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek In silence, for he cannot speak,

And ever faster

Down his own the tears begun to run. 300 The worthy pastor

The shepherd of that wandering flock,
That has the ocean for its wold,

-

That has the vessel for its fold,
Leaping ever from rock to rock
305 Spake, with accents mild and clear,
Words of warning, words of cheer,
But tedious to the bridegroom's ear.
He knew the chart

Of the sailor's heart,

310 All its pleasures and its griefs,
All its shallows and rocky reefs,
All those secret currents, that flow
With such resistless undertow,

And lift and drift, with terrible force,

315 The will from its moorings and its course.

Therefore he spake, and thus said he:—

"Like unto ships far off at sea,

Outward or homeward bound, are we.

Before, behind, and all around,
320 Floats and swings the horizon's bound,
Seems at its distant rim to rise

And climb the crystal wall of the skies,
And then again to turn and sink,

As if we could slide from its outer brink.

325 Ah! it is not the sea,

It is not the sea that sinks and shelves,
But ourselves

That rock and rise

With endless and uneasy motion, 330 Now touching the very skies,

Now sinking into the depths of ocean.
Ah! if our souls but poise and swing
Like the compass in its brazen ring,
Ever level and ever true

335 To the toil and the task we have to do,
We shall sail securely, and safely reach
The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach
The sights we see, and the sounds we hear,
Will be those of joy and not of fear!"

340 Then the Master,

With a gesture of command,

Waved his hand;

And at the word,

Loud and sudden there was heard,

345 All around them and below,

The sound of hammers, blow on blow,
Knocking away the shores and spurs.
And see! she stirs!

387. The Fortunate Isles, or Isles of the Blest, were imaginary islands in the West, in classic mythology, set in a sea which was warmed by the rays of the declining sun. Hither the favorites of the gods were borne and dwelt in endless joy.

She starts, - she moves,

350 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!

And lo! from the assembled crowd
355 There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,
That to the ocean seemed to say,

“Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray,
Take her to thy protecting arms,
With all her youth and all her charms!"

360 How beautiful she is! How fair

She lies within those arms, that press
Her form with many a soft caress
Of tenderness and watchful care!
Sail forth into the sea, O ship!

365 Through wind and wave, right onward steer ! The moistened eye, the trembling lip,

Are not the signs of doubt or fear.

Sail forth into the sea of life,
O gentle, loving, trusting wife,
370 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;
375 And in the wreck of noble 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,

380 With all the hopes of future years,

Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workman wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
385 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;
390 '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 shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

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

393. The reference is to the treacherous display, by wreckers, of lights upon a dangerous coast, to attract vessels in a storm, that they may be wrecked and become the spoil of the thieves.

398. The closing lines gather into strong verses, like a choral, the cumulative meaning of the poem, which builds upon the material structure of the ship, the fancy of the bridal of sea and ship, the domestic life of man and the national life.

Mr. Noah Brooks, in his paper on Lincoln's Imagination Scribner's Monthly, August, 1879), mentions that he found the President one day attracted by these closing stanzas, which were quoted in a political speech: "Knowing the whole poem," he adds, "as one of my early exercises in recitation, I began, at his request, with the description of the launch of the ship, and repeated it to the end. As he listened to the last lines [395-398]. bis eyes filled with tears, and his cheeks were wet. He did not speak for some minutes, but finally said, with simplicity: 'It is a wonderful gift to be able to stir men like that.'"'

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

J

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

́OHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, of Quaker birth in Puritan surroundings, was born at the homestead near Haverhill, Massachusetts, December 17, 1807. Until his eighteenth year he lived at home, working upon the farm and in the little shoemak. er's shop which nearly every farm then had as a resource in the otherwise idle hours of winter. The manual, homely labor upon which he was employed was in part the foundation of that deep interest which the poet never has ceased to take in the toil and plain fortunes of the people. Throughout his poetry runs this golden thread of sympathy with honorable labor and enforced poverty, and many poems are directly inspired by it. While at work with his father he sent poems to the Haverhill Gazette, and that he was not in subjection to his work is very evident by the fact that he translated it and similar occupations into Songs of Labor. He had two years academic training, and in 1829 became editor in Boston of the American Manufacturer, a paper published in the interest of the tariff. In 1831 he published his Legends of