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Whose sovereign wept,
God bless thee, weeping Queen,
With blessing more divine !
That tender heart of thine !
As low as graves brought down,
Thou wilt not weep
SIR NICHOLAS AT MARSTON MOOR.
W. M. Praed.
To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas! the clarion's note is
high ; To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas! the huge drum makes
reply : Ere this hath Lucas marched with his gallant cavaliers, And the bray of Rupert's trumpets grows fainter on our To horse, to horse, Sir Nicholas! White Guy is at the
door, And the vulture whets his beak o'er the field of Marston
Moor. Up rose the lady Alice from her brief and broken prayer, And she brought a silken standard down the narrow turret
stair. Oh, many were the tears that those radiant eyes had
shed, As she worked the bright word 'Glory' in the gay and
glancing thread; And mournful was the smile that o'er those beauteous
As she said, “It is your lady's gift ; unfurl it in the van.'
" It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and boldest
ride, Through the steel-clad files of Skippon and the black
dragoons of Pride ; The recreant soul of Fairfax will feel a sicklier qualm, And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm, When they see my lady's gewgaw flaunt bravely on their
wing, And hear her loyal soldiers' shout, . . For God and for the
'Tis noon; the ranks are broken along the royal line; They Ay, the braggarts of the Court, the bullies of the
Rhine : Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm
is down, And Rupert sheathes his rapier with a curse and with a
frown; And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in the flight, • The German boar had better far have supped in York
The knight is all alone, his steel cap cleft in twain,
stain; But still he waves the standard, and cries amid the rout'For Church and King, fair gentlemen, spur on and fight
it out!' And now he wards a Roundhead's pike, and now he hums
a stave, And here he quotes a stage-play, and there he fells a
Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas ! thou hast no thought
of fear ; Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! but fearful odds are
here. The traitors ring thee round, and with every blow and
thrust, Down, down,' they cry, 'with Belial, down with him to
'I would,' quoth grim old Oliver, that Belial's trusty
sword This day were doing battle for the Saints and for the
The Lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower;
tower.“What news, what news, old Anthony?''The field is
lost and won : The ranks of war are melting as the mists beneath the
sun; And a wounded man speeds hither,-I am old and can
not see, Or sure I am that sturdy step my master's step should
I bring thee back the standard from as rude and rough
a fray, As e'er was proof of soldier's theirs, or theme for min
strel's lay. Bid Hubert fetch the silver bowl, and liquor quantum
suf.;* I'll make a shift to drain it, ere I part with boot and
buff ; Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing
out his life, And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and faithful
Sweet! we will fill our money-bags and freight a ship
for France, And mourn in merry Paris for this poor realm's mis
chance; Or, if the worst betide me, why, better axe or rope, Than life with Lenthal for a king, and Peters for a pope ! Alas, alas, my gallant Guy-out on the crop-eared
boor, That sent me with my standard on foot from Marston Moor!'
Quantum suficit, a sufficient quantity.
THE SLEEP.—Mrs. Browning.
Of all the thoughts of God that are
Sleep soft, beloved !' we sometimes say,
Av, men may wonder while they scan
THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS.-Sir F. H. Doyle.
During the last Chinese war the following passage occurred in a letter of the correspondent of The Times: 'Some Šeiks, and a private of the Buffs, having remained behind with the grog-carts, fell into the hands of the Chinese. On the next morning, they were brought before the authorities, and commanded to perform the Kotou. The Seiks obeyed; but Moyse, the English soldier, declaring that he would not prostrate himself before thrown on a dunghill.' any Chinaman alive, was immediately knocked upon the head, and his body
Last night, among his fellow roughs,
He jested, quaffed, and swore;
Who never looked before.
He stands in Elgin's place,
And type of all his race.
Bewildered, and alone,
He yet can call his own.