Puslapio vaizdai

when we find ourselves under the necessity of pausing; but if we overshoot ourselves by pronouncing more in a breath than is necessary, and neglecting those intervals where we may pause conveniently, we shall often find ourselves obliged to pause where the sense is not separable, and, consequently, to weaken and obscure the composition. This observation, for the sake of the memory, may be conveniently comprised in the following


In pausing, ever let this rule take place,
Never to separate words in any case

That are less separable than those you join:
And, which imports the same, not to combine
Such words together, as do not relate
So closely as the words you separate.


1. The path of piety and virtue pursued with a firm and constant spirit will assuredly lead to happiness.

2. Deeds of mere valour how heroic soever may prove cold and tiresome.

3. Homer claims on every account our first attention as the father not only of epic poetry but in some measure of poetry itself. 4. War is attended with distressful and desolating effects. It is confessedly the scourge of our angry passions.

5. The warrior's fame is often purchased by the blood of thousands.

6. The erroneous opinions which we form concerning happiness and misery give rise to all the mistaken and dangerous passions that embroil our life.

7. Peace of mind being secured we may smile at misfortunes. 8. Idleness is the great fomenter of all corruptions in the human heart.

9. The best men often experience disappointments.

10. The conformity of the thought to truth and nature greatly recommends it.

11. Hatred and anger are the greatest poison to the happiness of a good mind.

12. A perfect happiness bliss without alloy is not to be found on this side the grave.

13. The true spirit of religion cheers as well as composes the soul.

14. Reflection is the guide which leads to truth.

15. The first science of man is the study of himself.

16. The spirit of light and grace is promised to assist them that ask it.


WARRIORS and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
Pierce me in leading the hosts of the Lord,

Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path:
Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath!

Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow,
Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe,
Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet!
Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet !

[blocks in formation]

Or kingly the death which awaits us to-day!



THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he past;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!




O, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ;
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late :
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,

Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
"Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?".

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ;-
"Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—
"And now am I come with this lost love of mine,
"To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
"There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
“That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace

[ocr errors]

While her mother did fret and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bridemaidens whispered, ""Twere better by far
"To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near ; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ;

[ocr errors]

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode, and they ran;
There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?


BUT see


-he starts-what heard he then?
That dreadful shout!-across the glen
From the land-side it comes, and loud
Rings through the chasm; as if the crowd
Of fearful things, that haunt that dell,
Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell,
Had all in one dread howl broke out,
So loud, so terrible that shout!

"They come the Moslems come !"-he cries,
His proud soul mounting to his eyes,—



Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam
"Enfranchised through yon starry dome,
Rejoice-for souls of kindred fire
"Are on the wing to join your choir !"
He said—and, light as bridegrooms bound

To their young loves, reclimbed the steep
And gained the shrine-his Chiefs stood round-
Their swords, as with instinctive leap,

Together, at that cry accurst,

Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst.
And hark!-again-again it rings;

Near and more near its echoings

Peal through the chasm-oh! who that then
Had seen those listening warrior-men,
With their swords grasped, their eyes of flame
Turned on their Chief-could doubt the shame,
The indignant shame with which they thrill
To hear those shouts and yet stand still?

He read their thoughts-they were his own-
"What! while our arms can wield these blades,
"Shall we die tamely? die alone?

"Without one victim to our shades,

"One Moslem heart, where, buried deep,
"The sabre from its toil may sleep?
"No-God of Iran's burning skies!
"Thou scornest the inglorious sacrifice.
66 No-though of all earth's hope bereft,
"Life, swords, and vengeance still are left.
"We'll make yon valley's reeking caves

"Live in the awe-struck minds of men,
"Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves
"Tell of the Ghebers' bloody glen.
"Follow, brave hearts!-this pile remains
"Our refuge still from life and chains;
"But his the best, the holiest bed,

"Who sinks entombed in Moslem dead!"



ALP wandered on, along the beach,

Till within the range of a carbine's reach

Of the leaguered wall; but they saw him not,

Or how could he 'scape from the hostile shot?
Did traitors lurk in the Christians' hold?

Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts waxed cold?
I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall
There flashed no fire, and there hissed no ball,
Though he stood beneath the bastion's frown,
That flanked the sea-ward gate of the town;
Though he heard the sound and could almost tell
The sullen words of the sentinel,

As his measured step on the stone below

Clanked, as he paced it to and fro;

And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall

Hold o'er the dead their carnival,

« AnkstesnisTęsti »