THE KING AND THE SPIDER.* KING BRUCE of Scotland flung himself down "Tis true he was monarch and wore a crown, For he had been trying to do a great deed He had tried and tried, but couldn't succeed: He flung himself down in low despair, And after a while, as he pondered there, Now just at the moment a spider dropped, With its silken cobweb clue; And the king in the midst of his thinking stopped 'Twas a long way up to the ceiling dome, It soon began to cling and crawl Up, up it ran, not a second it stayed Till it fell still lower, and there it laid, Its head grew steady-again it went, And a road where its feet would tire. *Inserted, together with "The Old Arm-chair," p. 69, and "Home for the Holidays," by permission of Miss Eliza Cook, THE KING AND THE SPIDER. 43 Again it fell and swung below, But again it quickly mounted; "Sure," cried the king, "that foolish thing When it toils so hard to reach and cling, But up the insect went once more. Steadily, steadily, inch by inch, Higher and higher he got; And a bold little run at the very last pinch, "Bravo! bravo!" the king cried out, And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind, That he tried once more as he tried before, Pay goodly heed, all ye who read, Whenever you find your heart despair ELIZA COOK. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. UNDER a spreading chestnut tree His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His brow is wet with honest sweat, And looks the whole world in the face, Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, And children coming home from school They love to see the flaming forge, And catch the burning sparks that fly He goes on Sunday to the church, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, He needs must think of her once more, And with his hard, rough hand he wipes THE DAWNING DAY. Toiling-rejoicing-sorrowing, Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, H. W. LONGFELLOW. THE DAWNING DAY. So here hath been dawning Out of Eternity This new day is born; At night doth return. Behold it aforetime No eyes ever did : Here hath been dawning Another blue day: Slip useless away? THOMAS CARLYLE. 45 YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. YE mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave, For the deck it was their field of fame, While the stormy winds do blow; Britannia needs no bulwarks, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, |