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Aadye's
Literary Tse.
ODE TO THE GREEK SLAVE. ©
Dedicated to the Cosmopolitan Art and Literary Asso-
ate ciation,
BY XARIFFA.
{The following Ode, by one of our regular contrib-
utors, was pronounced by the examining committee
to be No. 3 in the list of twenty pieces worthy of ad-
miration. It will be recollected that the prize was
awarded to J. I. Duganne, another of the Museum's
contributors.)
SLAVE-GIRL of Greece! before thy shadowed shrine
Benda, over-awed, the world's unyielding knee,
And, through the powers of one master mind, ,
A universe pays homage unto thee.
There is a sweetuess in thy oe look,
A noble sadness in thy puri
Which thrills the spirit like some holy book,
Or prayers we've whispered at a mother's knee.
The best, the holiest memories of a life .
Sweep o’er the heart, while gazing on thy brow—
The days of love at home, a youth all rife
With hope and innocence, departed now,
The perfumes of sweet flowers, the sunny stream
Where childhood's footsteps innocently strayed,
The gossamer gleamings of some glorious dream,
Known ere the world our trustfulness betrayed:
All these come gushing o’er the burning soul, *
Maid of the clussic Jand, at sight of thee!
Aad blest emotions, spurning art’s control,
Burst their sad bondage and are once more free.
Here Virtue comes, with pure, untainted wing,
Lifts her blue eyes up to thy holy face, -
And with a smile, a heaven-beam, brightening |
The placid features of this child of Grace,
She bows herself before thy shackled arm;
Not with a glow of suffering or shame,
But in acknowledgment that in thy form,
Embodied lives her pureness and her name.
Vice lingers near, besotted, trembling, weak,
* And gazes on thee with his blearéd eyes,
And with bis bloated lips essays to speak
The reckless words coarse passions cause oto rise; 3
But as he stands a culprit at thy side, .
A gush of feeling, all too long supprest; —_{died,
Sweeps the fond strings whose tones we thought had
and wakes the better nature in his breast.
A vision strikes bis heart—he once more sleepy,
A rosy boy, close to a mother's side—
And as it fades, he turns aside and weeps, :
Leaving thy presence blest and purilied.
of
O gem of Genius! thou wert less than now,
Had life its impress lain upon thy brome
No human pulse to thy pure breast is g
Yet feel we, child of thought, thou art tsrom heaven!
And gaze with awe upon thee undefined,
Thou master offspring of a master mind!
To thee, sweet maid, will unborn nations bow;
And smile, and weep, and praise, as we do now;
Owning the truth which Genius claims through thee,
Man’s origin divine—a child of Deity.
ss .
THE INVOLUNTARY PIRATE.
HAD the mid-watch on deck; our frig-
ate was lying to under a close-reefed
maintopsail ; the gale was heavy, but steady,
and the swell ‘of the sea long and regular;| |
dark masses of clouds were “rolling to lee
ward, through which, ever and anon, the
‘moon shone brilliantly; silvering their sable
edges, and lighting up the wild storm-scene
just sufficiently to make visible its fierce and
gloomy aspect.
<< There is at all times something in the war
of elements calculated to awaken sublime
sentiments even in the dullest soul; but
there is a majesty,in the Ocean, when its
mighty depths are stirred, which calls forth
every feeling of admiration and awe of
which our natures are capable, and arrests
us as before the type of that eternity which
we are taught to contemplate as too vast for
our finite comprehension. ae
. 1 was in just that state of mind which the
scene was calculated to produce, gazing now
atthe rolling billows, crested with phospho:
rescent light, asthey swelled and heaved far
away to leeward; and anon at the clouds,
marshaled like a host j in the sky, and ‘moy-
ing in wild array to the conflict, the moon-
beams glittering on ita armor, and the light-
ning’s fierce artillery flashing along its ranks,
when a hail from the quarter-deck recalled
me from my reverie. . It: was simply asum-
mons to send a man to the wheel, which was
quickly, done: but the interruption was
enough tochange the current of my thoughts,
and T glanced around the deck to see if any-
thing in the routine of duty needed my at-
tention; our ship was snug, and the men
quietly stowed away under the lee of the
bulwarks, except one. He had been gazing
pretty much after the fashion I had just
a practicing, alternately on the sea and
t ‘Well, Bake, what do you ‘male of it?”
‘lasked I.
“T's all plain “enough, s sir,” said he, as he
touehed his hat, interpreting my - question
literally; “ we’ve had the worst of it, though
the gale will pr obably last for' ty-eight hours
longer.” . -
“ And you have seen many a hander one,
T have no doubt ?”
-“ Ay, sirs and many a wild scene,” said
he, answering more directly t to the spirit of
my inquiry.
.“ By the way, , Blake, you have often
promised to spin:me-a yarn ; let’s have i it
to-night.. -I feel in the humor.” - «~~
“ And I, too, sir, somewhat so,” replied
the sailor. . “ So, if you please, I have. no
objection to settle off that score.”
~« Well, just step down to my locker, and
get the flask you'll find on the bottom shelf;
it won't do any harm to ‘freshen the nip’
before you begin; and bring a can of water
as you come by the seuttlebutt.” vee
Reader, you may be an advocate of f the
Maine Law, for aught know; butif grog is
ever allowable it is in a galé of wind at sea,
and even though you may belong to that very
estimable class of moral-reformers, I shall
feel inclined to question: your constancy, if
a wet jacket and a long night-watch were
the provocatives, and a flask of fragrant
“schnapps” the temptation. But tomy sub-
Ject. . .
One-eyed Blake, as he was generally call-
ed, was one of the most incomprehensible
and mysterious old “salts” I ever: fell in
with. He was a thorough seaman ; in ap-
pearance lank, bony, and muscular, with a
face tanned and wrinkled until it resembled
an old piece of puckered leather. “He had
but one eye, as his cognomen indicated, and
that’ was small, deep-sct, and fiery; his
beard consisted only of a scattered growth
of gray hairs, which, however, he evidently
regarded with partiality. '
‘Of Blake’s age-I could scarcely give an
idea. of approximate correctness; he was
certainly old, but still full of activity and en-
durance; the first man aloft, and the last to
quit bis post; always ready, intelligent, and
reliable. The man was not morose or ill-
natured, but silent and mysterious ; respect-
ful to his superiors, and, notwithstanding
his unsociable habits; popular among. his
ship-mates; sailors being ever ready to rec-
ognize merit in one of .their calling, and
excellent judges of human nature withal.
No one ever molested Blake; he was not
even the subject of those occasional practi-
eal jokes with which Jack innocently varies
the monotony of ship-board.
n one occasion only had I-ever known
him angry, and that was when a skulking
fellow whom he was compelled to report for
a gross neglect of duty, called him, in resent.
ment, a “d—d pirate.” In an instant Blake
caught him by the throat in an iron grip,
his swarthy visage glowed like a heated fur-
nace, and his single eye burned in its socket
with destructive fierceness. The paroxysm
lasted only an instant; by a powerful effort
he resumed his self-control, throwiag off the
offender, pale and frightened, neyer again
to renew his insolence.
mined, if possible, to have an explanation at
some future time; the oceasion now appear-
ed favorable, and when Blake returned, af-
ter he had touched the grog, I asked him
about it.
We had taken our seats on a gunslide,
the space around which, etiquette, a nice
point with sailors, had left vacant for my
benefit. Somewhat to my astonishment,
there appeared no reluctance on his part to
communicate freely about himself.
“T had as well tell you nowas at any other
time; and I don’t mind you’re knowing all
about it, though you will easily understand
why I don’t care to have my life a ship’s
talk... Well, sir, a little while ago, when I
was looking at the waves playing like little
mountains turned adrift, and the clouds roll-
ing and tumbling aloft in such grand confu-
sion, I could not help thinking what poor,
weak, foolish critters we were ; straining and
toiling a few years, after we don’t know
what, and then being thrown overboard with
a couple of round shot to our feet, to sink
down—down, where even the sharks won’t
find us, our.names scratched out from the
| muster-roll of memory, and our places in the
mess and on the watch-book filled, as though
we had never been; and yet all this will go
on again, and again, and others will look at
it as we do, feel their hearts lifted up for
awhile like ours, wonder at it as we do, and
give upall like us, without making the where-
fore any better.” ~
“ You are a philosopher, Blake.”
“No, sir, but all this makes me ask why
should we set such a value upon life, when
it’s so trifling a thing ?”
“ You know the Bible says all that aman
hath will he give for his life.”
“Well, sir, Iam glad you have the good
book for it, for a man will do much that he
does not like to think of, much” less hear of,
afterwards, to save his life; and when that
skulk, June, called me a ‘d—d pirate,’ it
made my blood boil all over, because it was
true.”
“You a pirate, Blake?” .
- “Yes, sir; didn’t I tell youa man would
do that to save his life he would not like to
think of afterwards; and yet I do think of
it, and often wish myself a hundred fathoms
down in the blue water, if it could only wash
out the recollection of that one act,” said he,
in a sad_and hollow voice. “Tt was this
way, sir: :
“TT was born, you see, on the ocean, and
never knew any other calling: My father
was a seaman before me, and a good man;
he kept the log-book of life free from blots
and errors, except a good hearty d—n now
and then, which is a sailor's privilege, and
means no harm. He needn’t have been
ashamed of his reck’ning here, and when
they overhauled it aloft, I'll beta quarter he
passed muster with the best, and has as
sunny a berth as any of ’em up there. I
was the only son, and as I told you, born at
sea, my mother being on her passage out to
America, for though my father was a full-
blooded Yankee, he had married in London.
‘ He’s born a sailor,’ said the old man when
he saw me, ‘anda sailor he shall be!’ I
can’t tell how old I was when I first com-
menced going to sea, for it appears as if my
earliest recollection was on ship-board. My
father would leave me at home sometimes
for a short voyage, but although the old wo-
man was good enough to me, and a little
sister who was born about two years after,
used to amuse me very much, yet I always
got tired out before the time was half over,
and used to long to be afloat again. I was
| Tremembered. this renconter, ond deter
gbout fifteen a years old ‘When my father died ;
he was lost in saving a little girl—a passen-
ger—who, being too venturesome, had fallen
overboard. Ie happened to be in the miz-
en rigging at the time, and jumped over-
board and caught her; the boat was lower-
ed and pulled for them; it was not half a
dozen strokes off, when my father shrieked
out, threw up one hand, commenced beat-
ing the water, while with the other he tried
to lift the child above him. They all knew
what was the matter. ‘lwo hard strokes of
the oars, and in an instant the boat was
alongside. One hauled the girl in, while
another caught at my father, who was al-
ready sinking, with the boat-hook. They
managed to get hold of him; the water was
all bloody around, and it was some trouble
to pull him in, for the shark didn’t let go
till they punched the boat-hook into: him.
My poor father was awfully mangled, and
didn’t live an hour.
“Tt so happened that I had been left at
home that voyage, and. the first news we
had of our loss was brought by the parents
of the.child he had saved.. They appeared
almost as much distressed as wé were, and
were very kind and generous; and gave my
mother money, and ‘promised. she should
never want; nor did they forget her after-
ward. ..The little girl cried much, and
throwing her arms around my sister’s neck,
declared she would always be her sister.’ I
never saw anything more beautiful, and,
boy as I was, I thought I would willingly
have made fight with a shark myself for her
sake. .
“Well, T soon found employment, and
was rated ordinary seaman the first voyage,
and after that I got full wages. Things
went on pretty smoothly for four or five
years; after this, we ceased to hear from our
friends, but my mother was comfortably fix-
ed and my wages were good.
“Tt was between six and seven years af- ,
ter my father’s death that .I shipped on
board a brig. bound for the West Indies. ©
We had‘a' fine run until we got down
among the ‘ Keys,’ when one morning about
daylight we were overhauled by a stranger.
It was easy telling what he was, at first sight ;
his. long, dark hull, and tall, raking ‘masts
never belonged to an honest trader... We
would have escaped if we could, but there
was no earthly hope; we had been becalm-
ed allnight, and he brought the breeze along
with him.
“ Our skipper did say perhaps it might
be only a slaver, and the worst we need fear
would be a loss of provisions and water ; but
he was mistaken, for as she ranged along up
under our quarter, her deck was alive with
men, and a harder-looking, more cut-throat’
set I never clapped my eyes on; they were
of all colors and nations, yet it was easy to
see they were picked men. The schooner
mounted three carronades a side, and a
‘Long Tom’ on a pivot, and her bulwarks
were lined with smallarms. Resistance was
perfectly useless, and we made no attempt
at it, but heaved to as we were ordered, and
received the pirate captain and about twen-
ty of his crew on board. . Though we offer-
ed no opposition, we were every mother’s
son of us bound hand and foot, and bundled
into the schooner, which lay close under our
quarter. The captain: of our brig was
sharply questioned as to her cargo, and
whether there was any specie on board, and
though he answered ‘without equivocation,
he received a severe blow on the mouth
from the hilt of a cutlass, for telling the truth
as to the money. . His blood spurted on me,
and my heart turned sick, for it seemed but
a taste of what was in store forus all. . Why:
Se