THE SEA-SERPENT. 
73 
IV. 
Out on the sea, out on the sea, the snake 
is swimming happy and free ;—he’s left Cape 
Ann with every sense bent on reaching Cam¬ 
bridge by Commencement. He shoots along, 
while every wave its phosphorescent brightness 
gave ; and now old Boston’s outer light gleamed 
on his eye serenely bright. He passed the forts, 
and left the bay ; up by Long Wharf he held 
his way, gained the mouth of our own Charles 
River, saw the lights of East Cambridge quiver ; 
the pedestrians on the bridge all shiver, and won¬ 
der what ’t is that splashes the water, while the 
serpent swims on, with his mind bent on slaugh¬ 
ter. Next he came where, o’er the tide, West 
Boston Bridge throws its arches wide, and 
there he paused a moment to wonder whether 
he’d better go over or under. Two Sophs just 
then were driving out, with echoing song and 
ringing shout, each passer-by in choice Greek 
hailing, when at the moment o’er the railing the 
serpent stuck his awful mug ; he startled the 
