A life of toil and scanty fare, these humble fishers led,
And, wearily and patiently they earned their daily bread;
The careless glance would scarce remark aught in their aspect rude
Save the dull look of untaught men, in discontented mood,
But observations practiced eye, would trace the lines of thought,
Of the sedate intelligence of minds with wisdom fraught;
Would mark the quick and varying glance of passion, strong and deep,
Though, now, within the calm, cold breast, the stormy feelings sleep;
Would note the traces of that zeal, which oft in after days
Glowed in those hearts, and warmed the world by its reflected blaze,