Still bade eternal Eden smile around.
Presaging instant fate her bosom heaved
Unwonted sighs, and stealing oft a look
Towards the big gloom, on Celadon her eye
Fell tearful, wetting her disordered cheek.
In vain assuring love, and confidence

In heaven, repressed her fear; it grew, and shook
Her frame near dissolution. He perceived
The unequal conflict, and as angels look
On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed,
With love illumined high. "Fear not,” he said,
"Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offense,
And inward storm! He, who yon skies involves
In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee
With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft
That wastes at midnight, or the undreaded hour
Of noon, flies harmless; and that very voice,
Which thunders terror through the guilty heart,
With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine.
"Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus

To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace,
(Mysterious heaven!) that moment to the ground,
A blackened corse, was struck the beauteous maid.
But who can paint the lover as he stood,
Pierced by severe amazement, hating life,
Speechless, and fixed in all the death of wo?
So, faint resemblance! on the marble tomb,
The well-dissembling mourner stooping stands,
For ever silent, and for ever sad.

Hoarse wintry blasts a solemn requiem sung
To the departed day,

Upon whose bier

The velvet pall of midnight had been flung,

And nature mourned through one wide hemisphere. Silence and darkness held their cheerless sway,

Save in the haunts of riotous excess,

And half the world in dreamy slumbers lay-
Lost in the maze of sweet forgetfulness.
When lo! upon the startled ear,

There broke a sound so dread and drear

As, like a sudden peal of thunder,
Burst the bands of sleep asunder,
And filled a thousand throbbing hearts with fear.

Hark! the faithful watchman's cry
Speaks a conflagration nigh!-
See! yon glare upon the sky,
Confirms the fearful tale.

The deep-mouthed bells, with rapid tone,
Combine to make the tidings known;
Affrighted silence now has flown,
And sounds of terror freight the chilly gale!

At the first note of this discordant din,
The gallant fireman from his slumber starts;
Reckless of toil and danger, if he win
The tributary meed of grateful hearts.
From pavement rough, or frozen ground,
His engine's rattling wheels resound,
And soon before his eyes

The lurid flames, with horrid glare,
Mingled with murky vapors rise,

In wreathy folds upon the air,
And veil the frowning skies!

Sudden a shriek assails his heart-
A female shriek, so piercing wild,
As makes his very life-blood start :-
"My child! Almighty God, my child!"
He hears,

And 'gainst the tottering wall,

The ponderous ladder rears;

--

While blazing fragments round him fall,
And crackling sounds assail his ears.

His sinewy arm, with one rude crash,
Hurls to the earth the opposing sash;
And heedless of the startling din,-
Though smoky volumes round him roll,
The mother's shriek has pierced his soul,
See! see! he plunges in!

The admiring crowd, with hopes and fears,
In breathless expectation stands,
When lo! the daring youth appears,
Hailed by a burst of warm, ecstatic cheers,
Bearing the child triumphant in his hands!

33. BATTLE OF WATERLOO.—Byron.

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage-bell;

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did ye not hear it ?—No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street:
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet-
But, hark!-That heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat.

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar!

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness:
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated-who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise?

And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips-"The foe! they come! they

come!"

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,

grass

Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave,-alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the
Which now beneath them, but above shall
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of living valor, rolling on the foe,

grow

And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low.

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,

Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,
The morn the marshaling in arms,—the day,
Battle's magnificently-stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent,
The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,
Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one red burial blent!

34. THE SAILOR-BOY'S DREAM.-Dimond.

In slumbers of midnight, the sailor-boy lay;
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind;
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.

He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers,
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn;
While memory stood sidewise, half covered with flowers,
And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.

Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide,

And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise-
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.

The jessamin clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall;
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,
His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear,
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,

Joy quickens his pulse-all hardships seem o'er, And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest— "Oh God thou hast blest me-I ask for no more."

Ah! what is that flame, which now bursts on his eye?
Ah! what is that sound which now larums his ear?
"Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky!
"Tis the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere!

He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck;
Amazement confronts him with images dire-
Wild winds and waves drive the vessel a wreck-
The masts fly in splinters—the shrouds are on fire!

Like mountains the billows tremendously swell-
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mary to save;
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!

Oh! sailor-boy, wo to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of blissWhere now is the picture that fancy touched bright, Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?

Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again

Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main, Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,

Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge: But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge.

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid ;
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll-
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye—

Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul.