The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1890-01-18

1ny TTTGHU, HHrfIgC FTVsCUt
Spotiord, on the occasion of public celebration
at the Newburyport Library. To the charm and
eIclty OF her verse; as far as it goes nothing cal
he added, but in the following ballad have en-
deavorcd to give a fuller detail OF the touching
iacts upon which it is founded.
From pain and peril by land and main.
TIE shpwrccked sailor came back again:
Back to his home, where wife and child,
Who had mourned him lost with joy were wild
Where he sat once more with his kith and kin,
And welcomed his neignbors thronging in.
But when morning came he called for his spade
Il must pay my debt to the Lord ;" he said.
"Why dig you here!'' asked the passer-by;
SIS there gOi or silver the road so ugh.''
mo, friend, he answered; but under this sod
Is the blessed water, the wine of God"
Water. the Powwow is at your back,
And right before you the Merrimack,
And look you up, or look you down.
There's well-sweep at every door in town.
True, he said. I'VE have wells of our own:
But this dig for the Lord alone"
Said the other: This soil is dry, you know,
l doubt il a spring can be found below;
You had better consult, before you dig,
Some watcr-witch, with hazel twig''
mo wet or dry, will dig it here,
Shallow or deep, lift takes year
In the Arab desert, where shade is none,
The waierless land OF sand and sum-
Under the pitiless, brazen sky
My burning throat as the sand was dry:
My crazed brain listened in fever-dreams
For plash OF buckets, and ripple OF streams;
And opening my eyes to the binding glare,
And my lips to the breath OF the blsteriny air.
Tortured alike by the heavens and earth,
l cursed, like Job, the day Of my birth.
Then something tender, and sad, and mild
As a mothers voice to II wandering child,
Rebuked my frenzy; and bowling my head,
prayed as never before had prayed:
Pity me, God! Tor die OF thirst
Take me out OF this land accursi;
And if ever reach my home again,
Where earth has springs, and the sky has rain,.
l will dig a well for the passer-by
And none shall suffer with thirst as 1.
l saw, as passed my home once more,
The house, the barn, the elms by the door,
The grass-llned road, that riverward wound
The tall slate stones OF the buying ground.
The beiry and steeple on meeting house hill,
The brock with its dam, and gray grist-mill.
And knew in that vision beyond the sea,
The very place where my well must be.
God heard my prayer in that evil day;
He led my feet in their homeward way
From false mirage and dried up well,
And the hot sand-storms of land OF hell.
Till saw at last, through coast-hill's gap,
The city held in its stony lap,
The mosques and the domes of scorched Muscat
And my heart leaped up with joy thereat;
For there was a ship at anchor lying.
Christian flag at its masthead flying
And sweetest of sounds to my home-sick ear
Was my native tongue in the sailors cheer,
Now the Lord be thanked, l am back again,
Where earth has springs, and the skies have rain
And the well promised, by Oman's Sea,
l am digging for him in Amesbury''
His good wife wept, and his nefghbors said:
The poor Old ea-zsis'slt A = ~. OF his head.''
Bat from n.0rn TO noon, and from noon TO nIsS
He toiled at his task with main and might;
And when ut last, from the loosenei earth,
Under his spade the stream gushed forth,
The water he dug ior followed him.
He shouted for JOY: IL have kept my wOrI
And here Is the well promised the Lord!''
The long years came, and the long years went.
And he sat by his roadside well content;
He watched the travellers, heatoppressed,
Pause by the way to drink and rest,
and the sweltering horses dip. as they drank
Their nOStrils deep in the cool, sweet tank
And grateful at hear, his memory went
Back to that waterless Orient,
And the blessed answer OF prayer which came
To the earth OF iron and sky OF flame.
And when wayiarer, weary and hot,
Kept to the mid-road, pausing not
For the wells refreshing, he shook his head;
He don't know the value of water" he said;
Had he prayed for drop. as have done,
In the desert circle OF sand and sun,
He would drink and rest, and 20 home to tell
That Gods best gift is the waysde well!''
j. G. Whittier in the Ne,v York Ledger