Yet some maintain that to this day That you may see sweet Lucy Gray O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind, And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.-Wordsworth.. THE JESTER CONDEMNED TO DEATH. ONE of the Kings of Scanderoon, A Royal Jester, Had in his train a gross buffoon, The court with tricks inopportune, It needs some sense to play the fool, Occurr'd not to our jackanapes, Some sin, at last, beyond all measure, Of his serene and raging highness: Or had intruded on the shyness Of the Seraglio, or let fly An epigram at royalty, None knows: his sin was an occult one ; Exclaim'd-""Tis time to stop that breath; Silence, base rebel! no replying! "Thy royal will be done 'tis just," 66 Has deign'd to leave the choice to me, I'll die, so please you-OF OLD AGE!"-Horace Smith. 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! Cannon to right 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, Sab'ring the gunners there, Reeled from the sabre stroke, Cannon to the right of them, Volleyed and thundered: When can their glory fade! Honour the brave and bold! Yea, when our babes are old How they rode onward!-Tennyson. DEATH OF MARMION. WITH fruitless labour, Clara bound and strove to stanch the gushing wound: the Monk, with unavailing cares, exhausted all the Church's prayers. Ever, he said, that, close and near, a lady's voice was in his ear, and that the priest he could not hear, for that she ever sung,-"In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying!" So the notes rung;-"Avoid thee, fiend!-with cruel hand, shake not the dying sinner's hand!--Oh, look my son, upon yon sign of the Redeemer's grace divine; Oh, think on faith and bliss!-By many a death-bed I have been, and many a sinner's parting seen, but never aught like this." The war, that for a space did fail, now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, and STANLEY! was the cry;-a light on Marmion's visage spread, and fired his glazing eye: with dying hand, above his head he shook the fragment of his hlade, and shouted "VICTORY!-CHARGE, CHESTER, CHARGE! ON, STANLEY, ON!" were the last words of Marmion.-Sir Walter Scott. EVE OF WATERLO0. THERE was a sound of revelry by night, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; 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; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet But hark!-that heavy sound breaks in once more, And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! ARM ARM! IT IS IT IS--THE CANNON'S OPENING ROAR! Within a windowed niche of that high hall Ah! then, and there was hurrying to and fro, And there were sudden partings, such as press And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips-"THE FOE! THEY COME ! And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose, Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes :- And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears Over the unreturning brave,-alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall moulder 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 thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent -Byron. |