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The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark, impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood

The instant that he fell.
No thought was there of dastard Aight;
Linked in the serried phalanx tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,

As fearless and as well :
Till utter darkness closed her wing
O’er their thin host and wounded king.

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A yet more stirring passage is that of the death-scene of the hero, which closes thus :

The war, that for a space did fail,
Now, trebly thundering, swelled the gale,

And “Stanley !” was the cry:
A light on Marmion's visage spread,

And fixed his glazing eye:
With dying hand, above his head
He shook the fragment of his blade,

And shouted “ Victory !”

Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!”
Were the last words of Marmion.

Hogy, the “ Ettrick shepherd,” has written many beautiful lyrics : we select two of his most admired. The first is entitled, When the Kye come hame. This is the latest version of this very beautiful pastoral song 3

Come all ye jolly shepherds that whistle through the glen,
I'll tell ye of a secret that courtiers dinna ken,-
What is the greatest bliss that the tongue o' man can name?
'Tis to woo a bonnie lassie when the kye come hame.


When the kye come hame, when the kye come hame, 'Tween the gloamin' and the mirk, when the kye come hame.

'Tis not beneath the burgonet, nor yet beneath the crown, 'Tis not on couch of velvet, nor yet on bed of down'Tis beneath the spreading birch, in the dell without a name, Wi'a bonnie, bonnie lassie, when the kye come hame.

Then the eye shines so bright, the hale soul to beguile,
There's love in every whisper, and joy in every smile ;
O, wha wad choose a crown, wi' its perils and its fame,
And miss a bonnie lassie, when the kye come hame ?

See yonder pawkie shepherd, that lingers on the hill,
His ewes are in the fauld, and his lambs are lying still :
Yet he downa gang to bed, for his heart is in a fame-
To meet his bonnie lassie, when the kye come hame.

Awa'wi' fame and fortune—what comfort can they gi’e ?
And a' the arts that prey upon man's life and liberty :
Gi’e me the highest joy that the heart o' man can frame-
My bonnie, bonnie lassie, when the kye come hame.

His Skylark is a general favorite, for its rich melody

Bird of the wilderness, blithesome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Emblem of happiness, blest is thy dwelling-place

O to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud, far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave

it birth.
Where, on thy dewy wing, where art thou journeying?

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

O'er fell and fountain sheen, o'er moor and mountain green,

O’er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, over the rainbow's rim,

Musical cherub, soar, singing away!

Then, when the gloaming comes, low in the heather blooms

Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Emblem of happiness, blest is thy dwelling-place

O to abide in the desert with thee !

Lamb—the gentle, genial “ Elia”-thus soliloquizes upon the loss of friends :

I have had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days;

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces !
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies ;

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces !

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Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood;
Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,

Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling ?

So might we talk of the old familiar faces :
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me ; all are departed;

All, all are gone—the old familiar faces !

The genius of KIRKE White, which elicited the beautiful tribute of Byron, is seen in the following lines, addressed to An Early Primrose :

Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire !
Whose modest form, so delicately fine,
Was nursed in whirling storms, and cradled in the winds :

Thee, when young Spring first questioned Winter's sway,
And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,
Thee on this bank he threw, to mark his victory.

In this low vale, the promise of the year,
Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale,
Unnoticed and alone, thy tender elegance.

So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms
Of chill adversity; in some lone walk
Of life she rears her head, obscure and unobserved ;

While every bleaching breeze that on her blows,
Chastens her spotless purity of breast,
And hardens her to bear serene the ills of life.

Hear MONTGOMERY’s glowing apostrophe to Home :

There is a spot of earth supremely blest-
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest-
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride ;
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend;
Here woman reigns,—the mother, daughter, wife,-
Strews with fresh Aowers the narrow way of life ;
In the clear heaven of her delighted eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.

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The beautiful lines which he wrote upon Burns, will win a welcome from every reader :

What bird, in beauty, Aight, or song, can with the Bard compare,
Who sang as sweet, and soared as strong, as ever child of air ?
His plume, his note, his form, could Burns for whim or pleasure

change ;
He was not one, but all by turns, with transmigration strange :
The blackbird, oracle of Spring, when flowed his moral lay ;
The swallow, wheeling on the wing, capriciously at play ;

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