Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think! ye may buy the joys owre dear -
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.



THE DEMON SHIP



BY THOMAS HOOD.

'Twas off the Wash the sun went down--the sea looked black and grim,
For stormy clouds with murky fleece were mustering at the brim;
Titanic shades! enormous gloom!--as if the solid night
Of Erebus rose suddenly to seize upon the light!
It was a time for mariners to bear a wary eye,
With such a dark conspiracy between the sea and sky!

Down went my helm--close reefed--the tack held freely in my hand -
With ballast snug--I put about, and scudded for the land;
Loud hissed the sea beneath her lee--my little boat flew fast,
But faster still the rushing storm came borne upon the blast.

Lord! what a roaring hurricane beset the straining sail!
What furious sleet, with level drift, and fierce assaults of hail!
What darksome caverns yawned before! what jagged steeps behind!
Like battle-steeds, with foamy manes, wild tossing in the wind,
Each after each sank down astern, exhausted in the chase,
But where it sank another rose and galloped in its place;