Phrase Exercise.
1. Either in its form or its habits.—2. Rarely exceeds.—3. Vast bulk.—4. Alarming width.—5. Lives entirely upon vegetable food.—6. Food which it consumes.—7. Tremendous array.—8. Awkward form.—9. Impaled on the stakes.—10. Cruel mode of capture.—11. Shoot it fatally.—12. The reeds conceal its movements.—13. The hunters fasten the line.—14. Dangerous sport.—15. Capsizes their canoes.—16. Lifted clean out of the water.—17. Considered a delicacy.
XIX.—A BRIGHT BOY.
Prof. J. S. Blackie.
Bill is a bright boy;
Do you know Bill?
Marching cheerily
Up and down hill;
Bill is a bright boy
At books and at play,
A right and a tight boy,
All the boys say.
His face is like roses
In flush of the June;
His eyes like the welkin,
When cloudless the noon;
His step is like fountains
That bicker with glee,
Beneath the green mountains,
Down to the sea.
When Bill plays at cricket,
No ball on the green
Is shot from the wicket
So sharp and so clean;
He stands at his station
As strong as a king
When he lifts up a nation
On Victory’s wing.
When bent upon study,
He girds to his books;
No frown ever ploughs
The smooth pride of his looks;
I came, and I saw,
And I conquered at will:
This be the law
For great Cæsar and Bill.
Like Thor with the hammer
Of power in his hand,
He rides through the grammar
Triumphant and grand;
O’er bastions and brambles
Which pedants up-pile,
He leaps and he ambles
Along with a smile.
As mild as a maiden,
Where mildness belongs,—
He’s hot as Achilles,
When goaded by wrongs;
He flirts with a danger,
He sports with an ill,
To fear, such a stranger
Is brave-hearted Bill!
For Bill is a bright boy—
Who is like Bill?
Oft have I marched with him
Up and down hill.
When I hear his voice calling,
I follow him still,
And, standing or falling,
I conquer with Bill!
Do good by stealth and blush to find it fame.
—Pope.
XX.—AFTER BLENHEIM.
Robert Southey.
It was a summer evening,
Old Kaspar’s work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun,
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet
In playing there had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh:
“’Tis some poor fellow’s skull,” said he,
“Who fell in the great victory.
“I find them in the garden,
For there’s many here about;
And often when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out!
For many thousand men,” said he,
“Were slain in that great victory.”
“Now tell us what ’twas all about,”
Young Peterkin, he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up,
With wonder-waiting eyes;
“Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for.”
“It was the English,” Kaspar cried,
“Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for,
I could not well make out;
But everybody said,” quoth he,
“That ’twas a famous victory.
“My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.
“With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then
And new-born baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
“They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.
“Great praise the Duke of Marlbro’ won,
And our good Prince Eugene.”
“Why, ’twas a very wicked thing!”
Said little Wilhelmine.
“Nay—nay—my little girl,” quoth he
“It was a famous victory.
“And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win.”
“But what good came of it at last?”
Quoth little Peterkin.
“Why, that I cannot tell,” said he,
“But ’twas a famous victory.”