(SOLVED!) What Is The Wreck Of The Hesperus Based On?

“More than fifty vessels were either driven ashore dismasted, or carried to sea, and the loss of lives could not have fallen short of fifty 🙌 From one end of the beach to the other, nothing could be seen but pieces of broken wrecks; planks and spars shattered into a thousand splinters; ropes and sails parted and rent; flour, fish, lumber, and a hundred other kinds of lading and furniture, soaked and broken; with here and there a mangled and naked body of some poor mariner; and in one instance that of a woman lashed to the windlass-bits of a Coastline schooner, lay along the beach, while off thirty yards, with the surf breaking over them every moment and freezing in the air, lay nearly a score of lost vessels; all together forming a picture which it is in vain to attempt to copy in words 👍” [1]
The average younker I’ve seen takes to kicking a ball or anything else kickable at an early age. The great players have, I’m told, sprung up from the side streets, where they have done their boyhood’s kicking to the terror of neighbours, and earned many parental wallopings though poppa probably did the same before them. I’ve been put wise to the evolution of the player from that stage. He develops the tricks of the game and goes through the school of hard knocks. A fond mother may send out her cherub all dressed up like Lord Fauntleroy, but it’s a cokernut to a banana remnant that little Willie comes back like the wreck of the Hesperus. He’s been playing football with Jimmy round the corner. That’s the kid kicker. (modified by Jacqueline Alvarez from Ipoh, Malaysia on March 29, 2021) [2]
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Shena Cho at, mentions how somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of Minas,Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pré,Dwelt on his goodly acres: and with him, directing his household,Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village.Stalworth and stately in form was the man of seventy winters;Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snow-flakes;White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as brown as the oak-leaves.Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers.Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the wayside,Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses!Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the meadows.When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontideFlagons of home-brewed ale, ah! Fair in sooth was the maiden,Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its turretSprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssopSprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them,Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads and her missal,Wearing her Norman cap and her kirtle of blue, and the ear-rings,Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heirloom,Handed down from mother to child, through long generations.But a celestial brightness—a more ethereal beauty—Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after confession,Homeward serenely she walked with God’s benediction upon her.When she’s havingaving passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music. (last modified 14 days ago by Sutton Hay from Kampala, Uganda) [3]
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Based around further reading from, “The Wreck of the Hesperus” is a narrative poem by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, first published in Ballads and Other Poems in 1842. It is a story that presents the tragic consequences of a sea captain’s pride. On an ill-fated voyage in winter, he brings his daughter aboard ship for company. The captain ignores the advice of one of his experienced men, who fears that a hurricane is approaching. When the storm arrives, the captain ties his daughter to the mast to prevent her from being swept overboard. She calls out to her dying father as she hears the surf beating on the shore, then prays to Christ to calm the seas. The ship crashes onto the reef of Norman’s Woe and sinks; the next morning a horrified fisherman finds the daughter’s body, still tied to the mast and drifting in the surf. The poem ends with a prayer that all be spared such a fate “on the reef of Norman’s Woe.” (edited by Jinny Hauser on July 11, 2020) [4]