the rope which was made fast round his body, he dashed in after it, and in a moment was buffetting with the water; rising with the hills, falling with the valleys, lost beneath the foam; then drawn again to land. They hauled in hastily..

He was hurt. I saw blood on his 'face, from where I stood; but he took no thought of that. He seemed hurriedly to give them some directions for leaving him more free-or so I judged from the motion of his arm-and was gone as before.

And now he made for the wreck, rising with the hills, falling with the valleys, lost beneath the rugged foam, borne in towards the shore, borne on towards the ship, striving hard and valiantly. The distance was nothing, but the power of the sea and wind made the strife deadly. At length he neared the wreck. He was so near, that with one more of his vigorous strokes he would be clinging to it,— when, a high, green, vast hill-side of water, moving on shoreward, from beyond the ship, he seemed to leap up into it with a mighty bound, and the ship was gone!

Some eddying fragments I saw in the sea, as if a mere cask had been broken, in running to the spot where they were hauling in. Consternation was in every face. They drew him to my very feet —insensible—dead. He was carried to the nearest house; and, no one preventing me now, I remained near him, busy, while every means of restoration were tried; but he had been beaten to death by the great wave, and his generous heart was stilled for ever.

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Charles Dickens,

XI.

HEROES.

1.-Harry Hotspur.1

King Henry IV.

For all the world

As thou 2 art to this hour was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh,
And even as I was then is Percy now.
Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state
Than thou the shadow of succession;
For of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm,
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws,
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,3
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on
To bloody battles and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got

Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions and great name in arms
Holds from all soldiers chief majority

And military title capital

Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ:
Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprizes

Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once,
Enlarged him and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up

And shake the peace and safety of our throne.

And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,

The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,

Capitulate against us and are up.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?

Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough through vassal fear,
Base inclination and the start of spleen,
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.

II.--Henry, Prince of Wales.1

Hotspur. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales,

And his comrades, that daff'd 2 the world aside,
And bid it pass?

Vernon.

All furnish'd, all in arms;

All plumed like estridges that with the wind
Baited like eagles having lately bathed ;
Glittering in golden coats, like images;

As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus

And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

III.-The Duke of York.1

K. Henry. Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen: But all's not done; yet keep the French the field.

Exeter. The Duke of York commends him to your

majesty.

K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting;

From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

Exe. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, Larding the plain; and by his bloody side, Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,

The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.

Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face;
And cries aloud "Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
As in this glorious and well-foughten 2 field
We kept together in our chivalry!"
Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up:
He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says "Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign."

3

So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck

He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips;
And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forced

Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not so much of man in me,

And all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears.

K. Hen.

I blame you not;

For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

IV.-Brutus.1

Antony. This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirators save only he

Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;
He only, in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world "This was a man!"

First Senator.

V.-Coriolanus.1

Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear

What you have nobly done.

Coriolanus.

Your honours' pardon:

I had rather have my wounds to heal again

Than hear say how I got them.

Brutus.

My words disbench'd2 you not.

Cor.

Sir, I hope

No, sir: yet oft,

When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but your people,
I love them as they weigh.

Menenius.

Pray now, sit down.

Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun When the alarum 3 were struck than idly sit

To hear my nothings monster'd.

Men.

[Exit.

Masters of the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter

That's thousand to one good one when you now see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed Cominius.
Cominius. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held