And they felt the breath of the downs fresh blown O'er leagues of clover and cold gray stone,

But not from the lips that had gone before.

They came no more. But they tell the tale
That, when fogs are thick on the harbor-reef,
The mackerel fishers shorten sail,

For the signal they know will bring relief,
For the voices of children still at play
In a phantom hulk that drifts away

Through channels whose waters never fail.

It is but a foolish shipman's tale,
A theme for a poet's idle page;

But still when the mists of doubt prevail,
And we lie becalmed by the shores of age,
We hear from the misty troubled shore
The voice of the children gone before,
Drawing the soul to its anchorage.

BRET HARTE.

THE JUMBLIES.

TH

From "Nonsense Songs."

I.

HEY went to sea in a sieve, they did;
In a sieve they went to sea:

In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,

In a sieve they went to sea.

THE JUMBLIES.

And when the sieve turned round and round,
And every one cried, "You'll all be drowned!"
They called aloud, "Our sieve ain't big :

But we don't care a button; we don't care a fig;
In a sieve we'll go to sea!"

Far and few, far and few,

79

Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.

II.

They sailed away in a sieve, they did;
In a sieve they sailed so fast,
With only a beautiful pea-green veil,
Tied with a ribbon, by way of a sail,
To a small tobacco-pipe mast.

And every one said, who saw them go:
"Oh! won't they be soon upset, you know:
For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long;
And, happen what may, it's extremely wrong
In a sieve to sail so fast."

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live :

Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.

III.

The water it soon came in, it did;

The water it soon came in :

So, to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet

In a pinky paper, all folded neat ;

And they fastened it down with a pin.

And they passed the night in a crockery-jar,
And each of them said, "How wise we are!
Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long,
Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,
While round in our sieve we spin."

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live :
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.

IV.

And all night long they sailed away;
And, when the sun went down,
They whistled and warbled a moony song
To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,
In the shade of the mountains brown.
"O Timballoo! How happy we are,
When we live in a sieve and a crockery-jar!
And all night long, in the moonlight pale,
We sail away, with a pea-green sail,

In the shade of the mountains brown.'

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live :
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.

V.

They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,
To a land all covered with trees:

And they bought an owl, and a useful cart,
And a pound of rice, and a cranberry tart,
And a hive of silvery bees;

THE JUMBLIES.

And they bought a pig, and some green jackdaws,
And a lovely monkey with lollipop paws,

And forty bottles of ring-bo-ree,

And no end of Stilton cheese.

Far and few, far and few,

81

Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.

VI.

And in twenty years they all came back,

In twenty years or more;

And every one said, "How tall they've grown!
For they've been to the Lakes and the Torrible Zone,
And the hills of the Chankly Bore."

And they drank their health, and gave them a feast
Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast;

And every one said, "If we only live,

We, too, will go to sea in a sieve,

To the hills of the Chankly Bore."

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.

EDWARD LEAR.

AY

OLD IRONSIDES.

Y, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky;

Beneath it rung the battle shout,

And burst the cannon's roar; The meteor of the ocean air

Shall sweep the clouds no more!

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquished foe,
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood,
And waves were white below,

No more shall feel the victor's tread
Or know the conquered knee;
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea !

Oh, better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave;
Nail to the mast her holy flag,

Set every threadbare sail,

And give her to the god of storms,

The lightning and the gale!

OLIVER WENDELL HOLmes.