Section IV

THE MARINER'S DREAM.

In slumbers of midnight, the sailor boy lay;
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind;
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,
And visions of happiness danc'd o'er his mind.

He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasure that waited on life's merry morn. While Memory stood sideways, half cover'd with flowers,

And restor'd every rose, but secreted its thorn.

Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise-
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch, And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall;

All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
And the voices of lov'd ones reply to his call.

A father bends 'er him with looks of delight,
His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear,
And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,
Joy quickens his pulse-all hardships seem o'er,
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest→→→
"O God thou hast bless'd me--I ask for no more."

Ah! what is that flame, which now bursts on his eye?
Ah! what is that sound which now 'larums his ear?

The player's profession,

Lies not in trick, or attitude, or start,
Nature's true knowledge is the only art,
The strong felt passion bolts into his face,
The mind untouch'd, what is it but grimace!
To this one standard, make your just appeal,
Here lies the golden secret, learn to Feel;
Or fool, or monarch, happy or distress'd,
No actor pleases that is not possess'd.

A single look more marks the internal woe,
Than all the windings of the lengthening oh!
Up to the face the quick sensation flies,
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes;
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions, all the soul is there.

Chapter I.

Section I.

Hardcastle. Blessings on my pretty innocence! Drest out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! what a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain.