He feels the immortal Terror at his side, This conqueror lion shrieks, who late was proud O'er all the beasts of the forest;-who grew vain In his wild conquests, and with sovereign pomp, Declared the world his own! He gasps in dread, Foam-flecked his bloody lips;-his staring eyes Grow dim,—while over him that archer stands, With grasp upon his forehead! CORINEIUS (starting to his feet). What is he, BRUTUS. Come they not yet, my Lord ?-and yet, methinks, I need no answer from this oracle, safe 'Gainst the assailing enemy! I feel Such pangs as speak no common visiter, THRASYMACHUS. The Gods forbid, my Lord, you should mean Death! BRUTUS. Whom else?—and why forbid, Thrasymachus? The thousand barbarous tribes that rose against him, Ere he drew hither to the empire This archer thou behold'st? This spear, me- Assigned him by the oracle of Jove! Who come?-Ah! bid them hither; steel, To pierce the audacious wind that, hurrying by My sense would seem to wander !-Corineius. Would rend from thee thy garments, as the chief, Enter CORINEIUS and ASSARACHUS. Whose shaft hath stricken thy lion to the heart! Ah! brothers, ye are welcome! Do ye bring That archer's name is Death! ASSARACHUS (solemnly, rising). Thy words are sooth: I feel that thou hast rightly, from thy spells, Hope from this heathen oracle, or must A conqueror, CORINEIUS. Noble Brutus, This crowns my hope, but passeth my desert;- BRUTUS. Know I not!- Ah, Death! that shaft hath told! my brother, Cold to my vitals, like a bolt of ice To match with those who strove, by Ilium's Fail me to lift them, though it be to spread walls, Ten weary years in conflict! From the hour, storms Of sea and shore, of beasts and men, to make plete! My pleading palms to heaven! Death is well, When life is shamed by weakness! Where's my sons? ASSARACHUS. They come, my lord! BRUTUS. I see them not-mine eyes CORINEIUS. The satisfied Gods, that led you on your path, Look up, my Brutus! Now claim you for their glorious company :- CORINEIUS. They call her;-she is here. Enter GUENDolen. BRUTUS. Thou wast the rose to my affections, child, LOCRINE. Thy will, my father, Should still be Locrine's wish. BRUTUS. It is well! Methinks thou say'st it coldly; but 'tis wellAll things do wear this aspect to my thought, My own heart coldest! What says Guendolen? GUENDOLEN. At, at another season, were it well BRUTUS. I grow strong With joy of this assurance! There! I place Your separate hands together. From this hour Be ye but one on earth, as, by the Gods, I hold ye one in heaven! And now, my lords, While yet the strength is mine for farther speech, I tell ye that it is not death I dread, So much as certain much misgiving thoughts That look to ye for succour. THRASYMACHUS. Look to us? CORINEIUS. Let Brutus show the thoughts which trouble him. ASSARACHUS. And say what we shall do to give him ease. BRUTUS. Then hearken to your sovereign's latest words; And if I still recall th' adventurous deeds Achieved in your behalf, impute it not THRASYMACHUS. We shall hear With a delighted patience, that conceives A freshness in the story known so well, When, in this gloomy hour, it leaves the lips Of him, the mighty hero of the whole! BRUTUS. When golden Hebe, daughter to great Jove, Your rights, though Grecia and Molossia stormed; And to the fierce confederates, that strove The wild Sicilian gulf-the Illician sea,- CORINEIUS. First, let me answer for myself, great king!— Are thine! But speak thy purpose, and I serve. DEBON. To the same burden is my voice, great king; Nor mine alone, but all! OMNES. All! all! CORINEIUS. Thou hear'st! BRUTUS. It glads my soul to hear! Then, loyal chiefs, OMNES. BRUTUS. Oh! Brutus, still they press with hungry legions, To seek thee in the halls of Troynoyant.* BRUTUS (starting up). Ha! this were news to baffle death, and pour By Jove, we swear! My spear of battle! Through my veins, the Enter COURIER. COURIER. All hail! [Music. CORINEIUS. COURIER. Jove save this presence! BRUTUS. Who comes? Let him speak! CORINEIUS. COURIER. Then burst a mighty heart! The warrior's soul, And prove, though Brutus dies, we do not lose Tidings of evil follow at my heels;- weep, But joy, that, conquering while he lived, our Died in his triumph, at a goodly age! Nor man, nor woman, nor child, escapes their There to provide our father's funeral! rage; And reckless of the terrors of thy name, Troynovant, New Troy-the modern London. A WESTERN SKETCH. THE FERRY. BY A MISSIONARY. I WAS at Rushville, and wished to go to Can- | me. Is this fairy land? These slender ones, ton-not in China, but in Illinois. The road is glancing in the sunbeams like motes or sparks, plain enough "for a new country;" but then are they the "good people," so much the demy way was not so plain, for I was to call at light and terror of green Erin? They are cerDoctor Field's, who was sick, and had re- tainly very insinuating; and can produce exquested a minister to come and preach to him. quisite sensations. But alas! for beauty and How shall I get there? Go by Havannah, cross sweet sounds. I had most palpable evidence the river, and go back eight miles? It was that these gentle little creatures, for all their far out of the way. So, a friend told me,-he low tones of melancholy music, were actually was a physician, and knew all sorts of ways,- thirsting for blood! I felt the conviction that I could cross at Tom Higgins's ferry, which through all the nerves and muscles of my body was on my route, and thereby save ten or-especially my hands and face. fifteen miles. The sun was two or three hours high yet, when I left the highway, which appeared very much like a by-way, and struck through the tall trees, by a still fainter trace, to the river bank. The beautiful Illinois rolled, or rather glided, gently by, its low banks and still lower islands covered with tall magnificent trees; and excepting a cabin on the opposite bank, and a skiff far down the stream, presented an unbroken solitude. All around the little spot on which I stood, the thick, lofty forest was made wild and dark and impervious by the tangled "underbrush," woven together by countless and almost endless grape vines. It was romantic, certainly; but I cannot say I thought it so beautiful as to wish to remain there. I lifted up my voice, therefore, without delay. There was no response. Again and again I called in vain. At length, when I had almost concluded to turn back to where there were human habitations, my call was answered, and a woman appeared on the shore. Right glad was I, and hopeful of deliverance. But my hope was soon destroyed, or at least deferred, by the information that "the men were all gone over to the slough with the boats," and would not be back until sundown. Well, there was no help for it. I'd "be to stay, any how." So I composed myself to remain. My horse was tied so that he could browse, or maybe pick grass a little; and I would have set myself down to read or meditate a few hours, if I could; but my attention was otherwise drawn. That which at first glance seemed a solitude, I soon discovered was filled with life and action. Myriads of aerial beings, with tiny forms and rapid motions, and soft humming tones, were around I'd be to stay," however; the woman said so, and there was no help for it. And I stayed, two or three long hours, until the shadows of the tall trees were thrown across the river; until the sunshine left the eastern bank, the ferryman's cabin, the tree tops, and gray twilight threw a soft and uniform, but not, to me, remarkably cheerful shading, over the scene. I cannot say I dreamed, or slept, or was lost in meditation." Who sleeps or dozes in fairy land? Who sees, or hears, or thinks, or does anything, but watch the motions of the little sprites? For me, my eyes, and ears, and hands, and feet, were constantly, simultaneously, and actively employed. It was not imagination, but reality. I waited to hear a call from the ferry-house, or to see the returning boats, until the twilight began to fade away; but no boats were seen, no call was heard. I raised my voice again, and shouted loud and clear; and when the eohoes had died away on the eastern shore, a voice was heard in reply. That reply was far from pleasant. "The boats had been left at the slough, and it would take a long while to get them down." After some time, however, it was agreed to bring them; but just then the discovery was made that I had a carriage. "O, if you have a carriage we can't get you over, no how. The flat's up out of the water to get a plank or two on the bottom, because it leaked so bad, and we can't run her till them's put on." "But, my good friend, what am I to do? I've been waiting here these three hours, and now it's dark. Do, if you can, help me out of my difficulty." "Well, I'm right sorry, stranger, that you're in sich a fix, but you see I can't help it. I tell |