The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Oh hark! oh hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, further going!
Oh sweet and far, from cliff and scar,
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Oh love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
—Alfred Tennyson.
SOME EXPERIENCES AT SEA.
THE FIRST DAYS OUT.
In 1834, Richard Henry Dana, Jr., then a young man of nineteen, made a voyage to California, which was at that time almost an unknown region. He went as a common sailor “before the mast”; and on his return he wrote a narrative of his experience, depicting in its true colors the real life of the sailor at sea. This narrative was published in a volume entitled “Two Years before the Mast,” and is still regarded as one of the most interesting stories of its kind. The following is Mr. Dana’s account of some of his first experiences at sea:—
“With all my imperfections on my head,” I joined the crew. We hauled out into the stream, and came to anchor for the night. The next morning was Saturday; and, a breeze having sprung up from the southward, we took a pilot on board, hove up our anchor, and began beating down the bay.
