Polynesian., 1856-11-08
HONOLULU, H. l., NOVEMBER g. 1856.

across his brain at that sight, and made him forget
that he was wounded cripple? There is the
dyke where he and his brothers shared tho great
pike which stole the duckngs-how many wears
ago: while pretty little Patience stood by tremb-
ling, and shieked at the snap of the brute's wide
jaws; and there-down that long dark lode, ruff
ling with crimson in the sunset breeze, he and his
brother skated home in triumph with Patience when
his uncle died. What day that was when in
the clear bright winter noon they laid the gate up
on the ice tied the beef bones under the four cor
ners, and packed little Patience on it. How pref
ty she looked, though her eyes were red with
weeping, as she peeped out from among the heap
OF blankets and hOrsehides, and how merrily their
long ten-runners whlstled along the ice lane be-
tween the high banks of signing reed as they tow
ed home their new treasure in triumph, at a pace
like race horses, to the dear old home among
the poplar trees. And now he was going to meet
her, after mighty victory, a deliverance from
Heaven, second only in his eyes to that Red-Sea
one Was there no poetry in his heart at that
thought! Did not the glowing sunset, and the
reed-beds which it transfgured before him into
sheets of golden fame, seem tokens that the glory
of God was going before him in his path! Did
not the sweet clamOr of the wild fowl, gathering
Tor one rich pean ere they sank into rest seem to
hlm as Gods bells Ginning him home in triumph,
with peals sweeter and bOlder than those of Lin
coin or Peterborough steeple-housel Did not the
very lapwing, as she tumbled, softly wailing be-
fore his path, as she did years ago, seem to well
come the wanderer home in the name of Heaveni
Fair Patience, too, though she was n Puritan
yet did not her cheek flush, her eye grow DIM like
any other girls, she saw far off the red-eoat,
like sliding spark Of fire, coming slowly along the
strait en-bank, and fed up stairs into her chamber
to pray, half that it might be- half that 1t might
not be he! Was there no happy storm of human
tears and human laughter when he entered the
courtyard gate! Did not the old dog lick his
Puritan hand as lovingly as if it had been a Cav;-
lier's Did not lads and lasses run out shoutipg1
Did not the old yeoman father hug him. weep over
him, hold him at arms length, and hug him again,
as heartily as any other John Bull, even though
the next moment he called all to kneel down and
thank Him who had sent his boy home again, after
bestowing on him the grace to bind kings in chains
and mobiles with links of iron, and contend to death
for the faith delivered to the saints! And did not
Zea-forT Truth look about wistfully for Patience
as any other man would have done, longing to see
her, yet not daring even to ask for her! And
when she came down at last, was she the less love-
ly IN his eyes, because she came not Haunting with
bare bosom, in tawdry Gn'ry and paint, but shroud
ed close in cOif and pinner. hiding from all the
world beauty which was there still. but was meant
for one alone, and that only if God willed in Gods
good time! And was there no faltering of their
voices, no light in their eyes, no trembling pressure
ay, and more beautiful in the sight of Him who
made them, than all Herrick's Dianemes, Walters
Sacharissas flames, darts, posies, lOveknots, ana
grams, and the rest of the insincere can't of the
court! What if Zeal-lor-T Truth had never strung
two rhymes together in his life Did not his heart
90 for inspiration to a loftier Helicon, when it
to itself, "My love, my dove, my undo
fled is but one,'' than if he had filled pages with
sonnets, about Nenuses, and Cupids, loye-sick
shepherds and cruel nymphs
And was there 10 poetry, true idyllic poetry, as
Of LOngellOwS ErGa gehRe ITSELF in that trip round
the old farm next morning when Zeal-forTruth,
after looking over every heifer, and peeping INTO
every stye, would needs canter down by his fathers
side to the horse-fen, with his arm in sling; while
The partridges .whirred up before them, and the !
urchers flashed like grey snakes after the hare,
md the colts came whinnying round, with staring
,yes and streaming names, and the two chatted on
n the same sober, business-like, English tone, al |
ernately of" The Lords great dealings by Gen
,ral Cromwell, the pride of all honest fen-men and
he price of troophOrses at the next orncaste farl
Poetry in those old Puritans Why not They
we're men of like passions with ourselves. They 4
owed, they married, they brought up children =; /
hey feared they sinned, they sorrowed, they /
ought-they conquered. There was poetry enough /
n them. be sure, though they acted it like men,
instead of singing it like birds