The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch, And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall; All trembling with transport he raises the latch, And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulses,--his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,--"O God! thou hast blest me,--I ask for no more." Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye? Ah! what is that sound which now 'larms on his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red gleam, painting hell on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere! He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire; Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck; The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell; In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, And the death-angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave! O sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight! In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright,-- Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss? O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again Shall home, love or kindred thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main, Full many a fathom thy frame shall decay. [Illustration: LIKE MOUNTAINS THE BILLOWS SWELL] No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge, But the white foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be, And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge. On a bed of green sea flowers thy limbs shall be laid,-- Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye,-- O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul! THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON [Footnote: Defoe's Robinson Crusoe was so very popular that a host of imitations of it were written. Most of them have been entirely forgotten but one, The Swiss Family Robinson, by Johann Rudolph Wyss, proved so popular, especially with children that it was translated from the original German into several languages and new editions are still appearing, though the book was published in 1813.