But grant the welkin fair; require not, thou Who call'st thyself, perchance, the master there, Or study swept, or nicely dusted coat, Or usual 'tendance; ask not, indiscreet, Thy stockings mended, though the yawning rents Some snug recess impervious; shouldst thou try Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy, I well remember, when a child, the awe This day struck into me; for then the maids, I scarce knew why, looked cross, and drove me from them; For me, their petted one; or buttered toast, Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins Drawn from her ravelled stocking, might have soured At intervals my mother's voice was heard, Why washings were. Sometimes through hollow bowl The floating bubbles; little dreaming then Ride buoyant through the clouds: so near approach LVI. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE. SOUTHEY. [ROBERT SOUTHEY was born in Bristol, England, August 12, 1774, and died March 21, 1843. For the last forty years of his life he resided at Keswick, in the county of Cum. berland. He was a very voluminous writer in verse and prose, and his works would fill not less than a hundred volumes. His poetry is characterized by a rich and gorgeous fancy, great beauty in description, and an elevated moral tone, but not by high creative power. His Thalaba and Curse of Kehama are splendid Oriental visions, and his Roderick is an elaborate and well-sustained work. Many of his shorter poems are marked by a happy vein of humor. His prose style is admirable; pure, simple, perspicuous, and energetic; singularly well suited for narrative, and hardly less so for reasoning upon the usual topics of controversy among men. His best known prose works are The Life of Nelson, The Life of Wesley, The History of the Peninsular War, The History of Brazil, Sir Thomas More, or Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society, The Life of Cowper, and The Doctor. Southey was exclusively a man of letters, and few men have ever adorned that profession with higher qualities of character. He was admirable in all the relations of life, full of warm affections, and ever faithful to duty. He had strong prejudices, but they were honestly entertained. His literary industry was worthy of all praise. He was a passionate lover of books, and left behind him a large and valuable library. Overworn by excessive mental toil and domestic anxiety, the light of his mind faded away before death released him; and his last years were passed in ignorance alike of his books and his friends.] A WELL there is in the west country, And a clearer one never was seen; There is not a wife in the west country But has heard of the well of St. Keyne An oak and an elm tree stand beside, A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne; For from cock-crow he had been travelling, He drank of the water so cool and clear, For thirsty and hot was he, And he sat down upon the bank Under the willow tree. There came a man from the neighboring town At the well to fill his pail; On the well side he rested it, And he bade the stranger hail. "Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he "For an if thou hast a wife, The happiest draught thou hast drank this day That ever thou didst in thy life. "Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast, Ever here in Cornwall been? For an if she have, I'll venture my life She has drank of the well of St. Keyne." "I have left a good woman who never was here,” The stranger he made reply; "But that my draught should be the better for that, I pray you answer me why.” "St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish man, “many a time Drank of this crystal well; And before the angel summoned her, "If the husband of this gifted well For he shall be master for life. "But if the wife should drink of it first, The stranger stooped to the well of St. Keyne, "You drank of the well I warrant betimes?" He to the Cornish man said: But the Cornish man smiled as the stranger spoke, And sheepishly shook his head. "I hastened as soon as the wedding was done, And left my wife in the porch; But i' faith she had been wiser than I, For she took a bottle to church." LVII.-SUNRISE FROM MOUNT ÆTNA. BRYDONE. [This extract is from A Tour through Sicily and Malta, by P. BRYDONE, ESQ.; pub lished in 1773. It is written in an easy and graceful style, and was quite popular In its day.] THE ascent for some time was not steep, and as the surface of the snow sunk a little, we had tolerably good footing; but as it soon began to grow steeper, we found our labor greatly increase. However, we determined to persevere, calling to mind, in the midst of our labor, that the Emperor Adrian and the philosopher Plato had undergone the same, and froin the same motive too-to see the rising sun from the top of Ætna. After incredible labor and fatigue, but at the same time mixed with a great deal of pleasure, we arrived before dawn at the ruins of an ancient structure, called the Philosopher's Tower, supposed to have been built by the philosopher Emped'ocles,* who took up his habitation here the better to study the nature of Mount Etna. We had now time to pay our adorations in a silent contemplation of the sublime objects of nature. The sky was clear, and the immense vault of the heavens appeared in awful majesty and splendor. We found ourselves more struck with veneration than below, and at first were at a loss to know the cause; till we observed, with astonishment, that the number of stars seemed to be infinitely increased, and the light of each of them appeared brighter than usual. The whiteness of the milky way was like a pure flame that shot across the heavens ; and with the naked eye we could observe clusters of stars that were invisible in the regions below. We did not at first attend to the cause, nor recollect that we had now passed through ten or twelve thousand feet of gross vapor, that blunts and confuses every ray before it reaches the surface of * Empedocles was a celebrated Sicilian philosopherv o flourished about four hundred and fifty years before Christ. |