THE WEAVER’S SONG.
Reading edition
[From ‘English Songs, and other Poems, by Barry Cornwall.’]
Weave, brothers, weave!—Swiftly throw
The shuttle athwart the loom,
And show us how brightly your flowers grow,
That have beauty but no perfume!
Come, show us the rose, with a hundred dyes,
The lily, that hath no spot;
The violet, deep as your true love’s eyes,
And the little forget-me-not!
Sing,—sing, brothers! weave and sing!
’Tis good both to sing, and to weave
’Tis better to work than live idle.
’Tis better to sing than grieve.
Weave, brothers, weave!—Weave, and bid
The colours of sunset glow!
Let grace in each gliding thread be hid!
Let beauty about ye blow!
Let your skein be long, and your silk be fine,
And your hands both firm and sure,
And time nor chance shall your work untwine;
But all,—like a truth,—endure!—
So,—sing, brothers, &c.
Weave, brothers, weave!—Toil is ours;
But toil is the lot of men:
One gathers the fruit, one gathers the flowers,
One soweth the seed again:
There is not a creature, from England’s King,
To the peasant that delves the soil,
That knows half the pleasures the seasons bring,
If he have not his share of toil!
So,—sing, brothers, &c.
Dances: the Tarantula.—“The Peccorara and Tarantella are the dances of Calabria: the latter is generally adopted throughout the kingdom of Naples. The music accompanying it is extravagant and without melody: it consists of some notes, the movement of which is always increasing, till it ends in producing a convulsive effort. Two persons placed opposite to each other make, like a pair of savages, wild contortions and indecent gestures, which terminate in a sort of delirium. This dance, originating in the city of Tarentum, has given rise to the fable of the Tarantula, whose venomous bite, it is pretended, can be cured only by music and hard dancing. Many respectable persons who have resided for a long time in the city of Tarentum, have assured me that they never witnessed any circumstance of the kind, and that it could be only attributed to the heat and insalubrity of the climate, which produce nervous affections that are soothed and composed by the charms of music. The Tarantula is a species of spider that is to be found all over the South of Italy. The Calabrians do not fear it, and I have often seen our soldiers hold it in their hands without any bad effects ensuing.”—Calabria, during a Military Residence
Property.—The advantages of the acquisition of property are two-fold; they are not merely to be estimated by the pecuniary profit produced, but by the superior tone of industry and economy which the possessor unconsciously acquires. When a man is able to call his own that which he has obtained by his own well-directed exertion, this power at once causes him to feel raised in the scale of being, and endows him with the capability of enlarging the stock of his possessions. A cottager having a garden, a cow, or even a pig, is much more likely to be an industrious member of society than one who has nothing in which he can take an interest during his hours of relaxation, and who feels he is of no consequence because he has nothing which he can call his own. The impressions which have been produced upon the minds of the peasantry, by affording them the means of acquiring property and of possessing objects of care and industry, are great, unqualified, and unvaried. In every instance the cottager has been rendered more industrious, the wife more active and managing, the children better educated, and more fitted for their station in life.
A Golden Rule.—Industry will make a man a purse, and frugality will find him strings for it. Neither the purse nor the strings will cost him anything. He who has it should only draw the strings as frugality directs, and he will be sure always to find a useful penny at the bottom of it. The servants of industry are known by their livery; it is always whole and wholesome. Idleness travels very leisurely, and poverty soon overtakes him. Look at the ragged slaves of idleness, and judge which is the best master to serve—INDUSTRY or IDLENESS.
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