THE SEA

The sea,

the sea, the open sea,

The blue, the fresh, the ever free;

Without a mark, without a bound,

Barry Cornwall.

It runneth the earth's wide regions round;
It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies,
Or like a cradled creature lies.

I'm on the sea, I'm on the sea,

I am where I would ever be,

With the blue above and the blue below,
And silence wheresoe'er I go.

If a storm should come and awake the deep,
What matter? I shall ride and sleep.

I love, oh! how I love to ride

On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
Where every mad wave drowns the moon,
And whistles aloft its tempest tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,
And why the southwest wind doth blow!
I never was on the dull, tame shore

But I loved the great sea more and more,
And backward flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh her mother's nest,-
And a mother she was and is to me,
For I was born on the open sea.

The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
The whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild,
As welcomed to life the ocean child.

I have lived, since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers a rover's life,
With wealth to spend, and a power to range,
But never have sought or sighed for change:
And death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wide, unbounded sea!

THE VOYAGE

Alfred Tennyson.

We left behind the painted buoy,
That tosses at the harbor-mouth;
And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South;
How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore!
We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail for evermore.

How oft we saw the Sun retire,

And burn the threshold of the night,
Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire,

And sleep beneath his pillar'd light!
How oft the purple-skirted robe
Of twilight slowly downward drawn,
As thro' the slumber of the globe
Again we dash'd into the dawn!

O hundred shores of happy climes

How swiftly stream'd ye by the bark! At times the whole sea burn'd, at times With wakes of fire we tore the dark; At times a craven craft would shoot

From havens hid in fairy bowers, With naked limbs and flowers and fruit; But we nor paused for fruit or flowers.

For one fair vision ever fled

Down the waste waters day and night,
And still we follow'd where she led,

In hope to gain upon her flight.
Her face was evermore unseen,
And fixt upon the far sea-line;

But each man murmur'd, "O my Queen,
I follow till I make thee mine."

And never sail of ours was furl❜d,

Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn;

We loved the glories of the world,

But laws of nature were our scorn;
For blasts would rise and rave and cease,
But whence were those that drove the sail
Across the whirlwind's heart of peace,
And to and thro' the counter gale?

Again to colder climes we came,

For still we followed where she led;
Now mate is blind and captain lame,

And half the crew are sick or dead.
But blind or lame or sick or sound
We follow that which flies before:
We know the merry world is round,
And we may sail for evermore.

IV. Narrative Poetry

Narrative poetry deals with events in which persons enter and speak. The thread of narration is carried directly to the audience, upon which are hung incidents. These incidents require impersonation and are kept within the frame, that is, upon the platform and have nothing to do with the audience only indirectly. The impersonation or the speeches of the characters which come up in the story, should be held in direct relation to each successive interlocutor, and in no way, or at no time should the speech come directly to the audience. While the speaker impersonating the character comes through radiation to the audience, which it should naturally do, it is not, neither should it be, a direct talk to the audience. Thus, the speaker's audience is the one or more characters upon the platform.

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

Thomas Campbell.

A chieftain to the Highland bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!"

"Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"
"Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together; For should he find us in the glen,

My blood would stain the heather.

"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?"

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
"I'll go, my chief-I'm ready.
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady:

"And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;

So, though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."

By this the storm grew loud apace;
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men-
Their trampling sounded nearer.

"Oh! haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.'

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her—

When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.

And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing-

Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore;
His wrath was changed to wailing.

For sore dismayed through storm and shade,
His child he did discover;

One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,

"Across this stormy water;

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,

My daughter!-Oh! my daughter!"

"Twas vain;-the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing;

The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS

Henry W. Longfellow.

It was the schooner Hesperus that sail'd the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter to bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds that ope in the month of May.