The low desire, the base design, That makes another's virtues less; The revel of the treacherous wine, And all occasions of excess; The longing for ignoble things; The strife for triumph more than truth ; The hardening of the heart, that brings Irreverence for the dreams of youth; All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds, That have their root in thoughts of ill; Whatever hinders or impedes The action of the nobler will ; All these must first be trampled down In the bright fields of fair renown We have not wings, we cannot soar ; The cloudy summits of our time. The mighty pyramids of stone That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, The distant mountains, that uprear The heights by great men reached and kept Standing on what too long we bore We With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, may discern-unseen before- A path to higher destinies. Nor deem the irrevocable Past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain. THE PHANTOM SHIP. IN Mather's Magnalia Christi, A ship sailed from New Haven, And the keen and frosty airs, That filled her sails at parting, Were heavy with good men's prayers. "O Lord! if it be thy pleasure " Thus prayed the old divine- But Master Lamberton muttered, And the ships that came from England Nor of Master Lamberton. This put the people to praying That the Lord would let them hear What in his greater wisdom He had done with friends so dear. And at last their prayers were answered :-It was in the month of June, An hour before the sunset Of a windy afternoon, When, steadily steering landward, A ship was seen below, And they knew it was Lamberton, Master, Who sailed so long ago. On she came, with a cloud of canvas, Right against the wind that blew, Until the eye could distinguish The faces of the crew. Then fell her straining topmasts, Hanging tangled in the shrouds; And her sails were loosened and lifted, And blown away like clouds. And the masts, with all their rigging, Fell slowly, one by one; And the hulk dilated and vanished, As a sea-mist in the sun! And the people who saw this marvel Each said unto his friend, That this was the mould of their vessel, And thus her tragic end. And the pastor of the village |