FOR CHILDREN. 227

At last, when care had banished sleep,

He saw one morning, dreaming, doating,

An empty hogshead from the deep
Come shoreward floating.

He hid it in a cave, and wrought
The live-long day, laborious, lurking,
Until he launched a tiny boat,
By mighty working.
Oh dear me! ‘twas a thing beyond
Description !—Such a wretched wherry,
Perhaps, ne'er ventured on a pond,
Or crossed a ferry.
For ploughing in the salt-sea field,
It would have made the boldest shudder ;
Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled,—
No sail—no rudder.
From neighbouring woods he interlaced
His sorry skiff with wattled willows ;
And thus equipped, he would have passed
The foaming billows.
A French guard caught him on the beach,
His little Argo! sorely jeering,
Till tidings of him chanced to reach
Napoleon’s hearing.
With folded afms Napoleon stood,
Serene alike in peace and danger,
And, in his wonted attitude,
Addressed the stranger.

1 Argo—the name of an ancient ship; a ship in general.