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XIX

BRING BACK THE CHAIN.

It was an aged man, who stood
Beside the blue Atlantic Sea;
They cast his fetters by the flood,

And hailed the time-worn captive free!
From his indignant eye there flashed
A gleam his better nature gave,
And, while his tyrants stood abashed,
Thus spake the spirit-stricken slave:

"Bring back the chain, whose weight so long
These tortured limbs have vainly borne;
The word of freedom from your tongue
My weary ear rejects with scorn!
'Tis true, there was— - there was a time,
I sighed, I panted to be free;
And, pining for my sunny clime,
Bowed down my stubborn knee.

"Then have I stretched my yearning arms,
And shook in wrath my bitter chain;
Then, when the magic word had charms,
I groaned for liberty in vain!
That freedom ye at length bestow,

And bid me bless my envied fate:
Ye tell me I am free to go.

Where? I am desolate !

"The boundless hope, the spring of joy Felt when the spirit's strength is young, Which slavery only can alloy,

The mockeries to which I clung,

The eyes

whose fond and sunny ray

Made life's dull lamp less dimly burn,

The tones I pined for day by day ·

Can ye bid them return?

"Bring back the chain ! Its clanking sound
Hath then a power beyond your own;
It brings young visions smiling round,
Too fondly loved, too early flown!
It brings me days when these dim eyes
Gazed o'er the wild and swelling sea,
Counting how many suns must rise
Ere one might hail me free!

"Bring back the chain! that I may think 'Tis that which weighs my spirit so: And, gazing on each galling link,

Dream, as I dreamt, of bitter woe!
My days are gone: of hope, of youth,
These traces now alone remain
(Hoarded with sorrow's sacred truth),
Tears, and my iron chain!

"Freedom! though doomed in pain to live, The freedom of the soul is mine;

But all of slavery you could give

Around my steps must ever twine.

3

Raise up the head which age hath bent;
Renew the hopes which childhood gave;
Bid all return kind Heaven once lent-

Till then I am a slave!"

HON. MRS. NORTON.

XX

THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN.

(ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.)

Scots wha hae with Wallace bled,
Scots, whom Bruce hath often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!

Now's the day and now's the hour;
See the front of battle lower;
See approach proud Edward's power,
Chains and slavery.

Who will be a traitor knave?
Who will fill a coward's grave?
Who so base as be a slave?

Coward turn and flee!

Who for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa',

Let him come wi' me!

By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!

Let us do, or die!

BURNS.

XXI

THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade;
Charge for the guns; " he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew

Some one had blundered.
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die.
Into the valley of Death,

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them,

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well

Into the jaws of death;

Into the mouth of hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while

All the world wondered;

Plunged in the battery smoke, Right through the line they broke,

Cossack and Russian

Reeled from the sabre stroke

Shattered and sundered;

Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them,

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

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