THE MARINER’S TALE. BY R. PENN SMITH. Scene. _A Flower Garden of a Mariner’s Asylum._ _Characters. An aged Sailor and a Visiter._ _Sailor._ All things must move in circles as earth doth. The orbs that make space gorgeous move in circles; E’en space itself is one eternal circle; For were it not, its end would sure be reached. All drag a chain still moving round and round Until we join the two ends of the chain: Thus man completes his circle. No escape then. _Stranger._ You spoke, sir, of a voyage. _Sailor._ Oh! pardon me: I had forgot—those circles set me wild. Where left I off? ’Tis strange, the thread is broken. _Stranger._ In the South Sea. _Sailor._ O, true!—’mong fruitful isles The jocund waters leaped when morn arose, And fringed each billow’s snow-white pinnacle With golden tissue. Waves that wildly roared Through night, like fiends contending for their prey, Now smiled serenely as a lawn in spring Spangled with herbage ’mid the wasting snow; And as our gallant vessel glided on The joyful waters, like some amorous dame, Kissed the bright prow in very wantonness, Regardless of the wound so rudely made In the too pliant bosom. _Stranger._ You liken well The waters to a woman; beautiful In the bright sunshine of prosperity! But when the tempest rages, sea-tossed man Oft finds a shoal there, where his barque may strand, Expecting a safe haven. _Sailor._ You are bitter: But truth is not always sweet. All on board Assembled on the deck to hail the sun Weaving with gold God’s heaving world of green; While lowly murmuring the gladsome waves Sang matins to their master. Voices full As deep-toned organ’s swell, and others shrill As notes of linnets, mingled with the songs The glad sea made in praising Him who made it. _Stranger._ Let the great sea and all that therein is; The earth—its fruit—and all that live thereby— And all that live hereafter, praise his name. _Sailor._ Amid our happy concourse there was seen A father and his little family, And the fair partner of his joys and griefs, The mother of his children. While they gazed Upon the wide expanse, their bosoms heaved With admiration for His mighty works Who rules the fearful sea. They thanked and trusted. _Stranger._ All thank and trust, who know the God they trust in. _Sailor._ Among them was a fair-haired rosy boy Who hugged his father’s knee; his little hands Clasped in devotion to the unseen God, In ignorance adoring; for his spirit, Unstained of earth, was redolent of heaven, And instinct with the praises he had learnt From angel-lips in his celestial birth-place. _Stranger._ Childhood’s inheritance, which manhood squanders, God gives us all, while we return but little. _Sailor._ As the sun rose he sung a little hymn. The words were these. I think his father made it.