Stitch-stitch-stitch! in poverty, hunger, and dirt; And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch, she sang the 'Song of the Shirt.' 2. Work-work-work! while the cock is crowing aloof; And work-work-work! till the stars shine through the roof, It's oh to be a slave along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, if this is Christian work! 3. 'Work-work-work! till the brain begins to swim; Work-work-work! till the eyes are heavy and dim. Seam, and gusset, and band-band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, and sew them on in a dream! 4. O men with sisters dear!-O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, but human creatures' lives! Stitch-stitch-stitch! in poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, a shroud as well as a shirt. 5. But why do I talk of death-that phantom of grisly bone? I hardly fear his terrible shape, it seems so like my ownIt seems so like my own, because of the fasts I keep : Alas! that bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap! 6. Work-work-work! my labour never flags: And what are its wages? A bed of straw-a crust of bread-and rags; That shattered roof-and this naked floor-a table-a broken chair— And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank for sometimes falling there! 7. 'Work-work-work! from weary chime to chime, Work-work-work! as prisoners work for crime. Band, and gusset, and seam-seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, as well as the weary hand. 8. Work-work-work! in the dull December light, And work-work—work! when the weather is warm and bright; While underneath the eaves the brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs, and twit me with the spring. 9. 'Oh but to breathe the breath of the cowslip and primrose sweet With the sky above my head, and the grass beneath my feet; For only one short hour to feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want, and the walk that costs a meal! 10. 'Oh but for one short hour! a respite however brief! No blessed leisure for love or hope, but only time for grief! A little weeping would ease my heart; but in their briny bed My tears must stop, for every drop hinders needle and thread.' 11. With fingers weary and worn, with eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, plying her needle and thread : Stitch-stitch-stitch! in poverty, hunger, and dirt; nee'-dle And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Hood. wea'-ther twit flags, stops; ceases. chime, sound of a clock or bells marking the hours. be-numbed', getting tired and stupid. eaves, the edge of the roof which overhangs the wall. res'-pite, rest; pause from labour. brin'-y, salt; bitter. EXERCISES.-1. The Greek prefix a- or an- means not, without; as anonymous, without a name; abyss, without a bottom; apathy, without feeling; anarchy, without government. 2. Analyse and parse the following: 6 A little weeping would ease my heart; but in their briny bed 3. Make sentences of your own, and use in each one or more of the following words: Barbarous, chime, eaves, respite. THE VISION OF MIRZA—I. [This beautiful allegory of human life, given under the guise of an Eastern story, is from the writings of Joseph Addison, the well-known essayist. It first appeared in 1711 in the periodical called the Spectator.] 1. When I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several oriental manuscripts, which I have still by me. Among others, I met with one entitled The Visions of Mirza, which I have read over with great pleasure. I intend to give it to the public when I have no other entertainment for them, and shall begin with the first vision, which I have translated word for word as follows: 2. On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed myself, and offered up my morning devotions, I ascended the high hills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and passing from one thought to another, Surely,' said I, 'man is but a shadow, and life a dream.' 3. Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, with a little musical instrument in his hand. As I looked upon him, he applied it to his lips, and began to play upon it. The sound of it was exceedingly sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different from anything I had ever heard. They put me in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departed souls of good men upon their first arrival in paradise, to wear out the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify them for the pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted away in secret raptures. 4. I had been often told that the rock before me was the haunt of a genius, and that several had been entertained with music who had passed by it, but never heard that the musician had before made himself visible. When he had raised my thoughts by those transporting airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of his conversation, as I looked upon him like one astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his hand, directed me to approach the place where he sat. 5. I drew near with that reverence which is due to a superior nature; and as my heart was entirely subdued by the captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affability that familiarised him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I approached him. He lifted me from the ground, and taking me by the hand, 'Mirza,' said he, 'I have heard thee in thy soliloquies; follow me.' 6. He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placing me on the top of it, 'Cast thine eyes eastward,' said he, ' and tell me what thou seest.' |
