Whizzed from the Stripling's arm! If touched by him,
The inglorious foot-ball mounted to the pitch

Of the lark's flight,—or shaped a rainbow curve,
Aloft, in prospect of the shouting field!
The indefatigable fox had learned

To dread his perseverance in the chase.
With admiration would he lift his eyes
To the wide-ruling eagle, and his hand
Was loth to assault the majesty he loved :
Else had the strongest fastnesses proved weak
To guard the royal brood. The sailing glead,
The wheeling swallow, and the darting snipe;
The sportive sea-gull dancing with the waves,
And cautious water-fowl, from distant climes,
Fixed at their seat, the centre of the Mere;
Were subject to young Oswald's steady aim,
And lived by his forbearance.

From the coast

Of France a boastful Tyrant hurled his threats;
Our Country marked the preparation vast
Of hostile forces; and she called-with voice
That filled her plains, that reached her utmost shores,
And in remotest vales was heard-to arms!

-Then, for the first time, here you might have seen
The shepherd's grey to martial scarlet changed,
That flashed uncouthly through the woods and fields.
Ten hardy Striplings, all in bright attire,

And graced with shining weapons, weekly marched,
From this lone valley, to a central spot

Where, in assemblage with the flower and choice
Of the surrounding district, they might learn
The rudiments of war; ten-hardy, strong,
And valiant; but young Oswald, like a chief

And yet a modest comrade, led them forth
From their shy solitude, to face the world,
With a gay confidence and seemly pride;
Measuring the soil beneath their happy feet
Like Youths released from labour, and yet bound
To most laborious service, though to them
A festival of unencumbered ease;
The inner spirit keeping holiday,

Like vernal ground to sabbath sunshine left.

Oft have I marked him, at some leisure hour,
Stretched on the grass, or seated in the shade,
Among his fellows, while an ample map
Before their eyes lay carefully outspread,

From which the gallant teacher would discourse,
Now pointing this way, and now that.' Here flows,'
Thus would he say, 'The Rhine, that famous stream!
" Eastward, the Danube toward this inland sea,
'A mightier river, winds from realm to realm;
'And, like a serpent, shows his glittering back
'Bespotted-with innumerable isles:

'Here reigns the Russian, there the Turk; observe 'His capital city!' Thence, along a tract

Of livelier interest to his hopes and fears,
His finger moved, distinguishing the spots

Where wide-spread conflict then most fiercely raged;
Nor left unstigmatized those fatal fields
On which the sons of mighty Germany
Were taught a base submission.-' Here behold

'A nobler race, the Switzers, and their land,

Vales deeper far than these of ours, huge woods, 'And mountains white with everlasting snow!' -And, surely, he, that spake with kindling brow,

Was a true patriot, hopeful as the best
Of that young peasantry, who, in our days,
Have fought and perished for Helvetia's rights-
Ah, not in vain !—or those who, in old time,
For work of happier issue, to the side
Of Tell came trooping from a thousand huts,
When he had risen alone! No braver Youth
Descended from Judean heights, to march
With righteous Joshua; nor appeared in arms
When grove was felled, and altar was cast down,
And Gideon blew the trumpet, soul-inflamed,
And strong in hatred of idolatry."

The Pastor, even as if by these last words Raised from his seat within the chosen shade, Moved toward the grave;-instinctively his steps We followed; and my voice with joy exclaimed: "Power to the Oppressors of the world is given, A might of which they dream not. Oh! the curse, To be the awakener of divinest thoughts,

Father and founder of exalted deeds;

And, to whole nations bound in servile straits,
The liberal donor of capacities

More than heroic! this to be, nor yet

Have sense of one connatural wish, nor yet
Deserve the least return of human thanks;
Winning no recompense but deadly hate
With pity mixed, astonishment with scorn!"

When this involuntary strain had ceased, The Pastor said: "So Providence is served; The forked weapon of the skies can send Illumination into deep, dark holds,

Which the mild sunbeam hath not power to pierce.
Ye Thrones that have defied remorse, and cast
Pity away, soon shall ye quake with fear!
For, not unconscious of the mighty debt
Which to outrageous wrong the sufferer owes,
Europe, through all her habitable bounds,
Is thirsting for their overthrow, who yet
Survive, as pagan temples stood of yore,
By horror of their impious rites, preserved ;
Are still permitted to extend their pride,
Like cedars on the top of Lebanon

Darkening the sun.

But less impatient thoughts, And loveall hoping and expecting all,'

This hallowed grave demands, where rests in peace
A humble champion of the better cause;

A Peasant-youth, so call him, for he asked
No higher name; in whom our country showed,
As in a favourite son, most beautiful.

In spite of vice, and misery, and disease,
Spread with the spreading of her wealthy arts,
England, the ancient and the free, appeared
In him to stand before my swimming eyes,
Unconquerably virtuous and secure.
-No more of this, lest I offend his dust:
Short was his life, and a brief tale remains.

One day a summer's day of annual pomp And solemn chase-from morn to sultry noon His steps had followed, fleetest of the fleet, The red-deer driven along its native heights With cry of hound and horn; and, from that toil Returned with sinews weakened and relaxed,

This generous Youth, too negligent of self,
Plunged 'mid a gay and busy throng convened
To wash the fleeces of his Father's flock-

Into the chilling flood. Convulsions dire

Seized him, that self-same night; and through the space
Of twelve ensuing days his frame was wrenched,
Till nature rested from her work in death.
To him, thus snatched away, his comrades paid
A soldier's honours. At his funeral hour
Bright was the sun, the sky a cloudless blue-
A golden lustre slept upon the hills;

And if by chance a stranger, wandering there,
From some commanding eminence had looked
Down on this spot, well pleased would he have seen
A glittering spectacle; but every face

Was pallid: seldom hath that eye been moist
With tears, that wept not then; nor were the few,
Who from their dwellings came not forth to join
In this sad service, less disturbed than we.
They started at the tributary peal

Of instantaneous thunder, which announced,
Through the still air, the closing of the Grave;
And distant mountains echoed with a sound
Of lamentation, never heard before!"

The Pastor ceased.-My venerable Friend
Victoriously upraised his clear bright eye;
And, when that eulogy was ended, stood
Enrapt, as if his inward sense perceived
The prolongation of some still response,
Sent by the ancient Soul of this wide land,
The Spirit of its mountains and its seas,
Its cities, temples, fields, its awful power,