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406

REVELRY IN THE EAST INDIES.

So stand to your glasses steady,
"Tis this that the respite buys,—
One cup to the dead already;

Hurrah! for the next that dies.

Time was when we frowned at others;
We thought they were wiser then;
Ha! let them think of their mothers,
Who hope to see them again.
No! stand to your glasses steady,
The thoughtless are here the wise;
A cup to the dead already;

Hurrah! for the next that dies.

There's many a hand that's shaking;
There's many a cheek that's sunk;
But soon, though our hearts are breaking,
They'll burn with the wine we've drunk.
So stand to your glasses steady,

"Tis here the revival lies;

A cup to the dead already;

Hurrah! for the next that dies.

There's a mist on the glass congealing,-
"Tis the hurricane's fiery breath;
And thus does the warmth of feeling
Turn ice in the grasp of death.
So stand to your glasses steady,
For a moment the vapor flies;

A cup to the dead already;

Hurrah! for the next that dies.

Who dreads to the dust returning?
Who shrinks from the sable shore?
Where the high and haughty yearning
Of the soul shall sting no more?
So stand to your glasses steady,

The word is a world of lies;

A cup to the dead already;

Hurrah! for the next that dies.

MY SHIP.

Cut off from the land that bore us,
Betray'd by the land we find;

Where the brightest have gone before us,
And the dullest remain behind.
Stand! stand to your glasses steady,

"Tis all we have left to prize;

A cup to the dead already;

Hurrah! for the next that dies.

MY SHIP.

OWN to the wharves, as the sun goes down,

Dow

And the daylight tumult, and dust, and din

Are dying away in the busy town,—

I

I go to see if my ship comes in.

gaze

far over the quiet sea,
Rosy with sunset, like mellow wine,
Where ships, like lilies, lie tranquilly-
Many and fair, but I see not mine.

I question the sailors every night—
Who over the bulwarks idly lean
Noting the sails as they come in sight-
"Have
you seen my beautiful ship come in?"

"Whence does she come?" they ask of me—
"Who is her master, and what is her name?"
And they smile upon me pityingly

When my answer is ever and ever the same.

Oh, mine was a vessel of strength and truth,
Her sails were as white as a young
lamb's fleece,
She sailed long since from the port of youth-
Her master was Love and her name was Peace

And, like all beloved and beautiful things,
She faded in distance and doubt away,—

With only a tremble of snowy wings,
She floated swan-like adown the bay;

407

408

SOMEBODY'S DARLING.

Carrying with her a precious freight—
All I had gathered by years of pain;
A tempting prize for the pirate, Fate-
And still I watch for her back again—

Watch from the earliest morning light,
Till the pale stars grieve o'er the dying day,
To catch the gleam of her canvas white,
Among the islands which gem the bay.

But she comes not yet: she never will come
To gladden my eyes and spirit more;
And my heart grows hopeless, and faint, and dumb,
As I watch and wait by the lonely shore,

Knowing that tempest, and time, and storm,

Have wrecked and shattered my beauteous bark; Rank seaweeds cover her wasted form,

And her sails are tattered, and stained, and dark.

And still, with a patience that is not hope,
For vain and empty it long hath been,

I sit on the rough shore's rocky slope,
And watch to see if my ship comes in.

INTO

SOMEBODY'S DARLING.

NTO a ward of the whitewashed walls,
Where the dead and dying lay,

Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls,
Somebody's darling was borne one day.
Somebody's darling, so young and so brave,
Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face,
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of his boyhood grace.

Matted and damp are the curls of gold,
Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
Pale are the lips, of delicate mould-
Somebody's darling is dying now.

AGAINST BRIBERY.

Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow
Brush all the wandering waves of gold;
Cross his hands on his bosom now,—
Somebody's darling is stiff and cold.

Kiss him once for somebody's sake,
Murmur a prayer, soft and low;
One bright curl from its fair mates take;
They were somebody's pride, you know.
Somebody's hand hath rested there;

Was it a mother's, soft and white?
And have the lips of a sister fair

Been baptized in the waves of light?

God knows best! He was somebody's love,
Somebody's heart enshrined him there;
Somebody wafted his name above,

Night and noon on the wings of prayer.
Somebody wept when he marched away,
Looking so handsome, brave, and grand;
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay,
Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody's waiting and watching for him,
Yearning to hold him again to their heart,
And there he lies, with his blue eyes dim,
And the smiling, child-like lips apart.
Tenderly bury the fair, young dead,
Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;
Carve on the wooden slab at his head,
"Somebody's darling slumbers here."

409

IT

AGAINST BRIBERY.-DEMOSTHENES.

T were better, O Athenians! to die ten thousand deaths, than to be guilty of a servile acquiescence in the usurpations of Philip. Not only is he no Greek, and no way allied to Greece, but he sprang from a part of the barbarian world unworthy to he named-from Macedonia, where formerly we could not find a

410

AGAINST BRIBERY.

slave fit to purchase! And why is it that the insolence of this man is so tamely tolerated? Surely there must be some cause why the Greeks, who were once so jealous of their liberty, now show themselves so basely submissive. It is this, Athenians! They were formerly impelled by a sentiment which was more than a match for Persian gold; a sentiment which maintained. the freedom of Greece, and wrought her triumphs by sea and land, over all hostile powers. It was no subtle or mysterious element of success. It was simply this: an abhorrence of traitors; of all who accepted bribes from those princes who are prompted by the ambition of subduing, or the base intent of corrupting Greece. To receive bribes was accounted a crime of the blackest dye-a crime which called for all the severity of public justice. No petitioning for mercy, no pardon, was allowed. Those favorable conjunctures with which fortune oftentimes assists the supine against the vigilant, and renders men, even when most regardless of their interests, superior to those who exert their utmost efforts, could never be sold by orator or general, as in these degenerate days. Our mutual confidence, our settled hatred and distrust of all tyrants and barbarians, could not be impaired or turned aside by the force of money.

But now, opportunity, principles, private honor, and the public good, are exposed to sale as in a market; and in exchange we have that perniciofis laxity which is destroying the safety, the very vitals, of Greece. Let a man receive a bribe, he is envied; let him confess it, he provokes laughter; let him be convicted, he is pardoned! His very accusation only awakens resentment, so thoroughly is public sentiment corrupted! Richer, more powerful, better prepared, than ever before, we lose all our advantages through these traffickers in their country's welfare.

How was it formerly? Listen to the decree which your ancestors inscribed upon a brazen column erected in the citadel: "Let Arthmius of Zelia, the son of Pythonax, be accounted infamous, and an enemy to the Athenians and their allies, both he and all his race!" Then comes the reason of his sentence: "Because he brought gold from Media into Peloponnesus." This is the decree. And now, in the name of all the gods, think upon it! Think what wisdom, what dignity appeared in this action of our ancestors. This receiver of bribes they declare an enemy to

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