XIII.

And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom,
Like the wing of the cygnet-what gleams on the sea?
Lo! an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb!
Steering stalwart and shoreward. O joy, it is he!
The left hand is lifted in triumph; behold,

It waves as a trophy the goblet of gold!

XIV.

And he breathed deep, and he breathed long,

And he greeted the heavenly delight of the day.
They gaze on each other-they shout as they throng-
"He lives-lo, the ocean has rendered its prey!
And safe from the whirlpool and free from the grave,
Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave!"

XV.

And he comes, with the crowd in their clamor and glee;
And the goblet his daring has won from the water,
He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee-

And the king from her maidens has beckoned his daughter She pours to the boy the bright wine which they bring. And thus spoke the Diver-"Long life to the King!

XVI.

"Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice,
The air and the sky that to mortals are given!
May the horror below never more find a voice-

Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven!
Nevermore, nevermore may he lift from the sight
The vail which is woven with terror and night!

XVII.

"Quick brightening like lightning, the ocean rushed o'er me,
Wild floating, borne down fathom-deep from the day;
Till a torrent rushed out on the torrents that bore me,
And doubled the tempest that whirled me away.

Vain, vain was my struggle—the circle had won me,

Round and round in its dance the mad element spun me.

XVIII.

"From the deep, then I called upon God, and He heard me, In the dread of my need, He vouchsafed to mine eye A rock jutting out from the grave that interred me;

I sprung there, I clung there, and death passed me by, And, lo! where the goblet gleamed through the abyss, By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless.

XIX.

"Below, at the foot of that precipice drear,

Spread the gloomy, and purple, and pathless Obscure! A silence of horror that slept on the ear,

That the eye more appalled might the horror endure ! Salamander, snake, dragon-vast reptiles that dwell In the deep-coiled about the grim jaws of their hell.

XX.

"Dark crawled, glided dark the unspeakable swarms, Clumped together in masses, misshapen and vast; Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms;

Here the dark moving bulk of the hammer-fish passed; And, with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion, Went the terrible shark-the hyena of ocean.

XXI.

"There I hung, and the awe gathered icily o'er me,

So far from the earth, where man's help there was none!
The one human thing, with the goblins before me-
Alone-in a loneness so ghastly-ALONE!

Deep under the reach of the sweet living breath,
And begirt with the broods of the desert of death.

XXII.

"Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now

I saw a dread hundred-limbed creature-its prey!—

And darted, devouring; I sprang from the bough
Of the coral, and swept on the horrible way;
And the whirl of the mighty wave seized me once more,
It seized me to save me, and dash to the shore."

XXIII.

On the youth gazed the monarch, and marveled: quoth he, "Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine;

And this ring I will give, a fresh guerdon to thee-
Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine-
If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again,
say what lies hid in the innermost main !"

To

XXIV.

Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion-
"Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest?
Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean—

He has served thee as none would, thyself hast confest. If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,

Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire !

XXV.

The king seized the goblet, he swung it on high,

And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide: "But bring back that goblet again to my eye,"

And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side; And thine arms shall embrace, as thy bride, I decree. The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."

XXVI.

And heaven, as he listened, spoke out from the space,
And the hope that makes heroes shot flame from his eyes
He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face-

It pales-at the feet of her father she lies!

How priceless the guerdon! a moment—a breath—
And headlong he plunges to life and to death!

XXVII.

They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell,
Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell,
They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng
Roaring up to the cliff-roaring back as before,
But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore!

EXERCISE XXIII.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

NEW AM. CYCLOPEDIA.

1. The wide range of Mr. Longfellow's studies, at an early period of life, as well as his introduction to the picturesque and quaint features of society and manners in foreign nations, has served to give a certain cosmopolitan character to the productions of his pen. As a translator, he is singularly happy in transfusing not only the ideas, but the spirit of his originals, into apt and expressive diction; as a critic, whether commenting on character or literature, he is the genial interpreter, rather than the censorious judge; and, as a poet, he appeals to the universal affections of humanity, by thoughts and images derived from original perceptions of nature and life.

2. His fellow feeling with his kind gives him easy admission to the common heart. Averse, both by temperament and habit, to everything harsh, bitter, disdainful, or repellent, there is no element in his poetry to call forth an ungracious or discordant emotion. It is always tolerant and human, kindled by wide. sympathies, and with a tender sense of every variety of human condition. Mr. Longfellow combines, in a rare degree, the sentiment of the artist, with the practical instincts of the man of the world. His thoughts are uniformly lucid and transparent, and never clouded by fanciful speculations. The clearness, simplicity, and force of his leading conceptions, leave the im pression of unity even on his longest poems. However vivid his imagery, it never seduces the attention from his main idea.

3. Without attempting to represent the depths of passion, in his own sphere of feeling, he is a genuine master, and the purity, sweetness, and refinement with which he delineates the affections of the heart, make him the most welcome of visitants at the domestic fireside. Though not destitute of the creative and shaping faculty, the best expression of his imagination is, perhaps, to be found in the subtle essence of beauty which pervades his writings, and seems to form the natural atmosphere of his mind. His susceptibility to the historical associations of Europe lends a peculiar charm to his poetry. The antiquities of Nurem burg and Bruges make but a faint impression on the Bavarians and Belgians who grow up in the shade of the quaint town hall, or within the sound of the lofty belfry; but they cast a speli over the imagination of the poet, and haunt him with perpetual visions of romance.

EXERCISE XXIV.

"The Song of Hiawatha," says Mr. Longfellow, "is founded on a tradition prevalent among the North American Indians, of a personage of miraculous birth, who was sent among them to clear their rivers, forests, and fishing-grounds, and to teach them the arts of peace. Into this old tradition I have woven other curious Indian legends, drawn chiefly from the various and valuable writings of Mr. Schoolcraft, to whom the literary world is greatly indebted for his indefatigable zeal in rescuing from oblivion so much of the legendary lore of the Indians. The scene of the poem is among the Ojibways on the southern shore of Lake Superior." The following are among the opening lines of this interesting poem.

THE SONG OF HIAWATHA.

I.

In the vale of Tawasentha,
In the green and silent valley,
By the pleasant water-courses.
Dwelt the singer Nawadaha.

LONGFELLOW.