Let not our variance mar the social hour, Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph. Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow; Norv. Think not so lightly, sir, of my resentment; Exeunt GLEN, NORV. HOME. JOHN HOME, author of "Douglas" and various other tragedies, was born at Leith, Scotland, in 1722. He entered the Church, and succeeded BLAIR, author of "The Grave," as minister of Athelstaneford. After writing" Douglas," so violent a storm was raised by the fact that a Presbyterian minister had written a play, that he was obliged to resign his living. Lord BUTE rewarded him with the sinecure oflice of conservator of Scots privileges at Campvere, and on the accession of GEORGE III., in 1760, he secured a pension for the poet of £300 per auum. With an income of some £600, and the friendship of David Hume, BLAIR, ROBERTSON, and other distinguished men, HOME's life was passed in happy tranquillity. He died in 1808, aged eighty-six. THE 124. BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.1 I. HIE warrior bow'd his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprison'd sire; 1 BERNARDO DEL CARPIO, a celebrated Spanish champion, after many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, Count SALDANA, whom King ALPHONSO, of Asturias, had long retained in prison, at last took up arms in despair. He maintained so destructive a war that the king's subjects united in demanding SALDANA's release. ALPHONSO therefore offered BERNARDO the person of his father in exchange for the castle of Carrio. BERNARDO immediately gave up his stronghold with all his captives; and rode forth with the king to meet his father, who he was assured was on his way from prison. The remainder of the story is related in the ballad. But little is known of BERNARDO'S history after this event "I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!-Oh! break my father's chain !" II. "Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransom'd man, this day III. And lo! from far, as on they press'd, there came a glittering band, With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land: "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in věry truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearn'd so long to see." IV. His dark eye flash'd, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went: He reach'd that gray-hair'd chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, bent; A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took- V. That hand was cold—a frozen thing,-. it dropp'd from his like lead! He look'd up to the face above,-the face was of the dead! A plume waved o'er the noble brow,-the brow was fix'd and white: He met, at last, his father's eyes,—but in them was no sight! VI. Up from the ground he sprang and gazed;-but who could paint that gaze? They hush'd their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze :They might have chain'd him, as before that stony form he stood; For the powe. was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood. VIL. "FATHER!" at length he murmur'd low, and wept like childhood then: Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men! He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown,— He flung his falchion' from his side, and in the dust sat down. VIII. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow, "No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for, now; My king is false-my hope betray'd! My father-Oh! the worth, The glory, and the loveliness, are pass'd away from earth! IX. "I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet! I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met! Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then ;-for thee my fields were won; And thou hast perish'd in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!" X. Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein, Amidst the pale and wilder'd looks of all the courtier train; And, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face-the king before the dead: ΧΙ. "Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me, what is this? The voice, the glance, the heart I sought,-give answer, where are they? If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay! XII. "Into these glassy eyes put light;-be still! keep down thine ire! Bid these white lips a blessing speak,-this earth is not my sire: 'Falchion (fal' chun) Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed! Thou canst not?-and a king!—his dust be mountains on thy head!" XIII. He loosed the steed,—his slack hand fell;-upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turn'd from that sad place: His hope was crush'd, his after fate untold in martial strain :— His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. MRS. HEMANS. MRS. HEMANS (Felicia Dorothea Browne), the daughter of a Liverpool merchant, was born in that town on the 25th of September, 1793. Her father, soort after experiencing some reverses, removed with his family to Wales, and there the young poetess imbibed that love of nature which is displayed in all her works. She wrote verses from her childhood, and published a poetical volume in her fourteenth year. Her second volume, "The Domestic Affections," which appeared in 1812, established her poetical reputation. In the same year she married Captain HEMANS, who, after some years, went to reside on the Continent, his wife remaining at home with her five sons. She became more and more devoted to study and composition. In 1819 she won a prize of £50, offered by some patriotic Scots for the best poem on Sir WILLIAM WALLACE, and in June, 1821, she obtained the prize awarded by the Royal Society of Literature for the best poem on the subject of Dartmoor. She succeeded well in narrative and dramatic poetry, though the character of her genius was decidedly lyrica. and reflective. Her numerous poems are admirable for purity of sentiment and gentle pathos; and her personal character was amiable, modest, and exemplary. After several changes of residence, she died in Dublin, on the 16th of May, 1835 125. SELECT PASSAGES IN VERSE. I. PATRIOTISM.-SCOTT. BREATHES there a man with soul so dead, "This is my own-my native land!" From wandering on a foreign strand? Despite those titles, power, and pelf, II. AMBITION.-BYRON. HE who ascends to mountain-tops shall find Must look down on the hate of those below. And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Contending tempests on his naked head; And thus reward the toils which to those summits led. III. INDEPENDENCE.-THOMSON. I CARE not, Fortune, what you me deny; Through which Aurora' shows her brightening face; IV. THE CAPTIVE'S DREAMS.-MRS. HEMANS. I DREAM of all things free! of a gallant, gallant bark, 'Eōs, in Latin AURORA, the goddess of the morning red. It is said, in mythology, at the close of every night she rose from the couch of her spouse, TITHONUS, and on a chariot drawn by the swift horses Lampus and Phaethon, ascended up to heaven from the river Oceanus, to announce the coming light of the sun to gods as well as to mortals: hence, the dawn ng light; the morning. |