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The time is come. See how he points his
eager hand this way, See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a
kite's upon the prey! With all his wit, he little deems, that
spurned, betrayed, bereft, Thy father hath in his despair one fearful
refuge left : He little deems that in this hand I clutch
what still can save Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows,
the portion of the slave; Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth
taunt and blow,Foul outrage which thou knowest not,
which thou shalt never know. Then clasp me round the neck once more,
and give me one more kiss: And now, mine own dear little girl, there
is no way but this." With that he lifted high the steel and smote
her in the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and
with one sob she died.
1824—1874. THE SCENT OF HAY AT NIGHT. THERE went an incense through the land one night,
(men slept. Through the hushed holy land where tired
(Interlude of music. ) The haughty sun of June had walked, long days,
[mendicants, Through the tall pastures, which, like Hung their sear heads and sued for rain ; and he
(high hay-time. Had thrown them none. And now it was Through the sweet valley all her flowery
wealth At once lay low, at once ambrosial blood Cried to the moonlight from a thousand fields,
[that night, And through the land the incense went Through the hushed holy land where tired
men slept. It fell upon the sage, who with his lamp Put out the light of heaven. He felt it come, Sweetening the musty tomes, like the fair shape
(past Of that one blighted love, which from the Steals oft among his mouldering thoughts of wisdom,
[youth; And she came with it, borne on the airs of Old days sang round her, old memorial days,
[flowers all fadedShe crowned with tears, they dressed in And the night fragrance is a harmony All through the old man's soul. Voices of old,
[green, The home, the church upon the village Old thoughts that circle like the birds ofeven Round the grey spire. Soft sweet regrets, like sunset
(not. Lighting old windows with gleams day had Ghosts of dead years, whispering old silent
(mouldering now Through grass-grown pathways, by halls Childhood-the fragrance of forgotten fields;
(fragrance Manhood-the unforgotten fields whose
The gold sun went into the west,
As mortal eye hath e'er beholden ;
Had lightly touched, and left it golden; A flower or two were shining yet; The star of the daisy had not yet set, It shone from the turf to greet the air Which tenderly came breathing there; And in a brook which loved to fret O'er yellow sand and pebble blue,
The lily of the silvery hue All freshly dwelt, with white leaves wet. Away the sparkling water played, Through bending grass and blessed flower;
Passed like a breath; the time of buttercups, The fluttering time of sweet forget-me-nots; The time of passion and the rose—the haytime
[man weeps, Of that last summer of hope! The old The old man weeps. His aimless hand the joyless book puts by ; As one that dreams and fears to wake, the
sage With vacant eye stifies the trembling taper, Lets in the moonlight, and for once is wise.
(Interlude of music.) There went an incense through the midnight land,
(men slept. Through the hushed holy land where tired It fell upon a simple cottage child, Laid where the lattice opened on the sky, And she looked up and said, “Those
flowers the stars Smell sweet to-night." God rest her
Where Romans trembled. Where the wreck
was saddest, Sweet pensive herbs, that had been gay elsewhere,
(still, With conscious mien of place, rose tall and And bent with duty. Like some village
children Who found a dead king on a battle-field, And with decorous care and reverend pity Composed the lordly ruin, and sat down, Grave without tears. At length the giant
lay, And everywhere he was begirt with years, And everywhere the torn and mouldering
Past Hung him with ivy. For Time, smit with
honour Of what he slew, cast his own mantle on
him, That none should mock the dead.
RUINS OF ANCIENT ROME.
UPSTOOD The hoar unconscious walls, bisson and bare,
(whom Like an old man deaf, blind, and gray, in The years of old stand in the sun and mur
Of childhood and the dead. From parapets Where the sky rests; from broken niches -each
[them, -More than Olympus, for the gods dwelt in Below, from senatorial halls,
and seats Imperial ; where the ever-passing Fates Wore out the stone, strange hermit birds croaked forth
[heights Sorrowful sounds; like watchers on the Crying the hours of ruin, when the clouds Dressed every myrtle on the walls in mourn
ing. With calm prerogative the eternal pile Impassive shone with the unearthly light Of immortality. When conquering suns Triumphed in jubilant earth, it stood out dark
[captive With thoughts of ages: like some mighty Upon his death-bed in a Christian land, And lying, through the chant of psalm and creed,
[brow, Unshriven and stern, with peace upon his And on his lips strange gods.
WHAT of the night, ho! Watcher there
Upon the armed deck,
The last of Empire's wreck-
From captive earth shall smite; Ho! rocked upon the moaning main,
Watcher, what of the night? "The stars are waning fast-the curl
Of morning's coming breeze, Far in the North begins to furl
Night's vapour from the seas. Her every shred of canvas spread,
The proud ship plunges free, While bears afar, with stormy head,
Cape Ushant on our lee."
At that last word, as trumpet stirred,
Forth in the dawning grey
His solitary way,
Till on his straining view
Distinct but slowly grew.
Maddens to marble there;
Dominion or despair
Rank weeds and grasses
And lost-and lo, in vapour furled,
The last of that loved France, For which his prowess cursed the world,
Is dwindling from his glance. Rave on, thou far-resounding deep,
Whose billows round him roll!
This moment o'er his soul.
With trophy-shaping bones,
Rent charters, cloven thrones.
Of thy transcendent power
Which in this dreadful hour
Of calmest lip and eye
The quenchless thirst to die?
The morning flashed to day,
Rejoicing on his way;
That muser cast his view,
His fate's devoted few.
No-gladly forward he would dash
Amid that onset on,
Pealed o'er his empire gone.
Should close his grand career, Girt by his heaped and slaughtered host.
He lived--for fetters here!
Cape Ushant melts away,
Shall utterly decay;
In years remotely dim,
To raise the song to him.
G. WALTER THORNBURY.
1828-1876. THE OLD GRENADIER'S STORY.
He lives, perchance, the past again,
From the fierce hour when first On the astounded hearts of men
His meteor presence burst; When blood-besotted Anarchy
Sank, quelled, amid the glare Of thy far-sweeping musketry,
Fame-fraught Vendémiaire ! And darker thoughts oppress him now
Her ill-requited love Whose faith, as beauteous as her brow,
Brought blessings from above; Her trampled heart, his darkening star,
The cry of outraged Man,
Loud thundering on his van.
When down that Belgian hill
He led unbroken still!
Upon destruction's marge, Nor king-like share with desperate pride
Their vainly glorious charge?
'Twas the day beside the Pyramids,
It seems but an hour ago,That Kleber's Foot stood firm in squares,
Returning blow for blow. The Mamelukes were tossing
Their standards to the sky, When I heard a child's voice say, “My men,
Teach me the way to die!"
Torn terribly with shot;
As though the wound were not.
Burst with a scream and cry,
Teach me the way to die!
With stouter hearts than mine,
To pour out free as wine.
“ Fair are this earth and sky; Then comrades of the Forty-third,
Teach me the way to die !" I saw Salenche, of the granite heart,
Wiping his burning eyesIt was by far more pitiful
Than mere loud sobs and cries.
One bit his cartridge till his lip
Grew black as winter sky: But still the boy moaned; Forty-third,
Teach me the way to die!"
Oh, never saw I sight like that!
The sergeant flung down flag, Even the fifer bound his brow
With a wet and bloody rag,
But never made reply,
“ Teach me the way to die!"
They strode into the fray;
But slowly melt away.
Bade the poor boy good bye,
Teach you the way to die!"
As the poor youngster cast, When the hot smoke of cannon
In cloud and whirlwind passed. Earth shook, and heaven answered.
I watched his eagle eye As he faintly moaned, "The Forty-third
Teach me the way to die!"
SOON I began with eager foot to climb The high cliff, from whose top I might behold
(grass The glorious spectacle. The short soft Had caught a plenteous dew: the mountain herbs
[long Repaid my rude tread with sweet fragrance: The ascent and steep; and often did I pause To breathe and look around on the rich vales And swelling hills, each moment bright
ening. Thus with alternate toil and rest I climbed To the high summit, then walked gently on, Till by the cliff's precipitous edge I stood. Oh, then what glories burst upon my sight! The interminable ocean lay beneath At depth immense ;—not quiet as before, For a faint breath of air, even at the height On which I stood I scarce felt, played over it, Waking innumerous dimples on its face, As though 'twere conscious of the splendid
guest That e'en then touched the threshold of
heaven's gates, And smiled to bid him welcome. Far away To either hand the broad curved beach stretched on;
(vance And I could see the slow-paced waves adOne after one, and spread upon the sands, Making a slender edge of pearly foam Just as they broke;—then softly falling back, Noiseless to me on that tall head of rock, As it had been a picture, or descried Through optic tubes leagues off.
A tender mist Was round the horizon and along the vales; But the hill-tops stood in a crystal air; The cope of heaven was clear and deeply blue,
[east And not a cloud was visible. Towards the An atmosphere of golden light, that grew Momently brighter, and intensely bright, Proclaimed the approaching sun. Now,
now he comes ! A dazzling point emerges from the sea; It spreads; it rises ;—now it seems a dome Of burning gold;-higher and rounder now It mounts—it swells; now like a huge
balloon Of light and fire, it rests upon the rim Of waters; lingers there a moment; then
Then, with a musket for a crutch,
He leaped into the fight; 1, with a bullet in my hip,
Had neither strength nor might.
A fever in his eye,
Taught me the way to die!"
Stretched on a heap of dead;
Who at his bidding bled.
And closed his dauntless eye ;
Taught him the way to die!” 'Tis forty years from then till now,
The grave gapes at my feet,
I feel my old heart beat.
Hearing a feeble cry,
Teach me the way to die!"
Exulting I stretched forth my arms, And hailed the king of summer. Every hill