“Stand, stragglers! stand! why early thus He sobs, he dies,-the troop, in wild amaze,

in arms ?

Unconscious whence the death, with horror From whence? to whom ?" lle meets with

gaze; no reply,

While pale they stare, thro' Tagus' temples Trusting the covert of the night, they fly;

riven, The thicket's depth, with hurried pace, A second shaft with equal force is driven;

they tread, Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering While round the wood the hostile squadron

eyes,
spread.

Veild by the night, secure the Trojan lies.
Burning with wrath, he view'd his soldier

fall;

With brakes entangled , scarce a path “Thou youth accurst! thy life shall pay between,

for all." Dreary and dark appears the sylvan scene; Quick from the sheath his flaming glave Euryalus his heavy spoils impede,

he drew The boughs and winding turns his steps And, raging, on the boy defenceless flew.

mislead;

Nisus no more the blackening shade conceals, But Nisus scours along the forest's maze, Forth,forth he starts,and all his love reveals; To where Latinus' steeds in safety graze, Aghast, confused, his fears to madness rise, Then backward o'er the plain his eyes And pour these accents, shrieking as he flies :

extend,

“Me, me, your vengeance hurl on me alone, On every side they seek his absent friend. Here sheathe the steel, my blood is all "O God! my boy," he cries, “of me bereft,

your own; In what impending perils art thou left!" Ye starry Spheres ! thou conscious Heaven Listening he runs-above the waving trees,

attest! Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze; He could not — durst not – lo! the guile The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around

confest! Wake the dark echoes of the trembling All, all was mine—his early fate suspend,

ground;

He only loved too well his hapless friend; Again he turns-of footsteps hears the noise, Spare, spare, ye chiefs! from him your The sound elates -- the sight his hape

rage remove, destroys;

His fault was friendship, all his crime was The hapless boy a ruffian train surround,

love." While lengthening shades his weary way He pray'd in vain, the dark assassin's sword

confound; Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gored; Him, with loud shouts, the furious knights Lowly to earth inclines his plume-clad crest,

pursue,

And sanguine torrents mantle o'er his breast: Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew. As some young rose, whose blossom scents What can his friend 'gainst thronging

the air, numbers dare? Languid in death, expires beneath the share; Ah! must he rush, his comrade's fate to share! Or crimson poppy, sinking with the shower, What force, what aid, what stratagem essay, Declining gently, falls a fading flower; Back to redeemn the Latian spoiler's prey! Thus, sweetly drooping, bends his lovely His life a votive ransom nobly give,

head, Or die with him for whom he wish'd to live! And lingering Beauty hovers round the dead. Poising with strength his lifted lance on

high, On Luna's orb he cast his phrenzied eye: But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide, "Goddess serene, transcending every star! Revenge his leader, and Despair his guide; Queen of the sky! whose beams are seen afar; Volscens he seeks,amidst the gathering host, By night, Heaven owns thy sway, by day, Volscens must soon appease his comrade's the grove;

ghost; When, as chaste Dian, here thou deignst Steel, flashing, pours on steel, foe crowds to rove;

on foe, If e'er myself or sire have sought to grace Rage nerves his arm, Fate gleams in every Thine altars with the produce of the chace;

blow; Speed, speed, my dart, to pierce yon vaunt- In vain, beneath unnumber'd wounds he ing crowd,

bleeds, To free my friend, and scatter far the proud." Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus Thus having said, the hissing dart he flung;

heeds; Through parted shades the hurtling weapon In viewless circles wheel'd his falchion flies,

Kling;

Nor quits the Hero's grasp till Volscens dies; The thirsty point in Sulmo's entrails lay, Deep in his throat its end the weapon found, Transfir'd his heart, and stretch'd him on The tyrant's soul fled groaning through the clay:

the wonnd.

This Nisus all his fond affection proved, Awakes an all-consuming fire ;
Dying, revenged the fate of him he loved ; Ye racking doubts! ye jealous fears !
Then on his bosom sought his wonted place, With others wage eternal war;
And death was heavenly in his friend's Repentance ! source of future tears,

embrace !

From me be ever distant far.

Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim, May no distracting thoughts destroy Wasted on 'Time's broad pinion, yours is The holy calm of sacred love!

fame!

May all the hours be wing'd with joy, Ages on ages shall your fate adınire; Which hover faithful hearts above! No future day shall see your names expire; Fair Venus! on thy myrtle-shrine, While stands the Capitol, immortal dome! May I with some fond lover sigh! And vanquish'd millions hail their Empress, Whose heart may mingle pure with minc,

Rome!

With me to live, with me to die.

My native soil! beloved before,

Now dearer, as my peaceful home, TRANSLATION FROM THE MEDEA OF Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore, EURIPIDES.

A hapless, banish'd wretch to roamn;

This very day, this very hour, When fierce conflicting passions urge May I resign this fleeting breath,

The breast, where love is wont to glow, Nor quit my silent, humble bower;
What mind can stem the stormy surge, A doom, to me, far worse than death.

Which rolls the tide of human woe ?
The hope of praise, the dread of shame, Have I not heard the exile's sigh?

Can rouse the tortured breast no more ; And seen the exile's silent tear?
The wild desire, the guilty flame,

Through distant climes condemnd to fly, Absorbs each wish it felt before.

A pensive, weary wanderer here ;

Ah! hapless dame! no sire bewails, But if affection gently thrills

No friend thy wretched fate deplores, The soul, by purer dreams possest, No kindred voice with rapture hails The pleasing balm of mortal ills,

Thy steps, within a stranger's doors. In love can soothe the aching breast; If thus, thou com'st in gentle guise, Perish the fiend! whose iron heart,

Fair Venus! from thy native heaven, To fair affection's truth unknown, What heart, unfeeling, would despise Bids her he fondly loved depart, The sweetest boon the Gods have given? Unpitied, helpless, and alone;

Who ne'er unlocks, with silver key, But never from thy golden bow

The milder treasures of his soul; May I beneath the shaft expire,

May such a friend be far from me, Whose creeping venom, sure and slow, And Ocean's storms between us roll!

FUGITIVE PIECES.

THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COL- Happy the youth! in Euclid's axioms tried, LEGE EXAMINATION.

Though little versed in any art beside;

Who, scarcely skill'd an English line to pen, High in the midst,surrounded by his peers, Scans Attic metres with a critic's ken. Magnus his ample front sublime uprears; What ! though he knows not how his fathers Placed on his chair of state, he seems

bled, a God,

When civil discord piled the fields with dead; While Sophs and Freshmen tremble at When Edward bade his conquering bands his nod;

advance, As all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom, Or Henry trampled on the crest of France ; His voice, in thunder, shakes the sounding Though, marv'ling at the name of Magna dime,

Charta, Denouncing dire reproach to luckless fools, Yet, well he recollects the laws of Sparta; Vaskill'd to plod in mathema:ic rules. Can tell what edicto sage Lycurgus ioade,

laid;

name.

mised cup;

While Blackstone 's on the shelf neglected To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend

the head, Of Grecian dramas vaunts the deathless While distant mitres to their eyes are spread;

fame,

But should a storm o'erwhelm him with Of Avon's bard remembering scarce the

disgrace, They'd fly to seek the next who fillid his

place.

Such are the men who learning's treasures Such is the youth, whose scientific pate

guard,
Class-honours, medals, fellowships, await; Such is their practice, such is their reward;
Or even, perhaps, the declamation-prize, This much, at least, we may presume to say,
If to such glorious height he lifts his eyes. The premium can't exceed the price they pay.
But, lo! no common orator can hope
The envied silver cup within his scope:
Not that our Heads much eloquence require,

TO THE EARL OF ...
Th’ATHENIAN's glowing style,or Tully's fire.
A manner clear or warm is useless, since

“Tu semper amoris
Sis memor,

et cari comitis ne abscedat imago." We do not try, by speaking, to convince;

VALERIUS Flaccue. Be other orators of pleasing proud, We speak to please ourselves, not move the FRIEND of my youth! when young we roved,

crowd:

Like striplings mutually beloved,
Our gravity prefers the muttering tone, With Friendship’s parest glow;
A proper mixture of the squeak and groan; The bliss which wing'd those rosy hours,
No borrow'd grace of action must be seen, Was such as pleasure seldom showers
The slightest motion would displease the On mortals here below.

Dean;
Whilst every staring Graduate would prate The recollection seems, alone,
Against what he could never imitate. Dearer than all the joys I've known,

When distant far from yon;

Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain, The man, who hopes t' obtain the pro- To trace those days and hours again,

And sigh again, adieu!
Must in one posture stand, and ne'er look up;
Nor stop, but rattle over every word, My pensive memory lingers o'er
No matter what, so it can not be heard : Those scenes to be enjoy'd no more,
Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest; Those scenes regretted ever;
Who speaks the fastest 's sure to speak the The measure of our youth is full,

best;

Life's evening-dream is dark and dull, Who atters most within the shortest space, And we may meet-ah! never ! May safely hope to win the wordy race.

As when one parent-spring supplies

Two streams, which from one fountain rise, T'he sons of science these, who,thus repaid, Together join'd in vain; Linger in ease in Granta's sluggish shade; How soon, diverging from their source, Whereon Cam's sedgy banks supine they lie, Each murmuring seeks another course, Unknown, unhonour'd live, - unwept for Till mingled in the Main:

die; Dull as the pictures which adorn their halls, Our vital streams of weal or woe, They think all learning fix'd within their Though near, alas! distinctly flow,

walls;

Nor mingle as before ; In manners rude, in foolish forms precise, Now swift or slow, now black or clear, All modern arts affecting to despise ;

Till death's unfathom'd gulph appear, Yet prizing BENTLEY's, Brunck's, or Por- And both shall quit the shore.

son's note, More than the verse on which the critic Our souls, my Friend! which once supplied

wrote;

One wish, nor breathed a thought beside, Vain as their honours, heavy as their ale, Now flow in different channels; Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale, Disdaining humbler rural sports, To friendship dead, though not antaught Tis yours to mix in polish'd courts,

to feel,

And shine in Fashion's annals. When Self and Church demand a bigot

zeal.

"Tis mine to waste on love my time, With eager haste they court the lord of Or vent my reveries in rhyme,

Without the aid of Reason; Whether 'tis Pirt or Petty rules the hour: For Sense and Reason (Critics know it)

Have quitted every amorous Poet, And, though some trifling share of praise,
Nor left a thought to seize on. To cheer my last declining days,

To me were doubly dear;
Poor LITTLR! sweet, melodious bard! Whilst blessing your beloved name,
Of late esteem'd it monstrous hard,

I'd wave at once a Poet's fame,
That he, who sang before all,

To prove a Prophet here.
He who the love of love expanded,
By dire Reviewers should be branded,

As void of wit and moral.
And yet, while Beauty's praise is thine,

GRANTA, A MEDLEY.
Harmonious favourite of the Nine!
Repine not at thy lot;

Αργυρεαις λογχαισι μαχου και παντα
Thy soothing lays may still be read,

Κρατησαις.
When Persecution's arm is dead,
And Critics are forgot.

On! could Le Sage's demon's gift

Be realized at my desire,
Still, I must yield those worthies merit, This night my trembling form he'd lift,
Who chasten, with unsparing spirit, To place it on St. Mary's spire.

Bad rhymes, and those who write them;
And though myself may be the next Then would, unroof'd, old Granta's halls
By critic sarcasm to be vext,

Pedantic inmates full display;
I really will not fight them;

Fellows who dream on lawn, or stalls,

The price of venal votes to pay.
Perhaps they would do quite as well,
To break the rudely sounding shell Then would I view each rival wight,
Of such a young beginner;

Petty and Palmerston survey;
He who offends at pert nineteen,

Who canvass there with all their might,
Ere thirty, may become, I ween,

Against the next elective day
A very harden'd sinner.

Lo! candidates and voters lie,
Now-I must return to you,

All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number!
And sure apologies are due;

A race renown'd for piety,
Accept then my concession ;

Whose conscience won't disturb their
In truth, dear ***, in fancy's flight,

slumber.
I soar along from left to right,
My muse admires digression.

Lord H, indeed, may not demur,

Fellows are sage, reflecting men !
I think I said 'twould be your fate They know preferment can occur
To add one star to royal state;

But very seldom,- now and then
May regal smiles attend you ;
And should a noble Monarch reign, They know the Chancellor has got
You will not seek his smiles in vain, Some pretty livings in disposal ;
If worth can recommend you.

Each hopes that one may be his lot,

And, therefore, smile on his proposal.
Yet, since in danger courts abound,
Where specious rivals glitter round, Now, from the soporific scene

From snares may Saints preserve you ; I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later,
And grant your love or friendship ne'er To view, unheeded and unseen,
From any claim a kindred care,

The studious sons of Alma Mater.
But those who best deserve you.

There, in apartments small and damp,
Not for a moment may you stray

The candidate for college-prizes
From Truth's secure unerring way, Sits poring by the midnight-lamp,
May no delights decoy;

Goes late to bed, yet early rises.
O'er roses may your footsteps move,
Your smiles be ever smiles of love, He, surely, well deserves to gain them,
Your tears be tears of joy.

With all the honours of his college,

Who, striving hardly to obtain them,
Oh! if you wish that happiness

Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge ;
Your coming days and years may bless,
And virtues crown your brow:

Who sacrifices hours of rest,
Be, still, as you were wont to be,

To scan, precisely, metres Attic;
Spotless as you've been known to me, Or agitates his anxious breast
Be, stili, as you are now.

In solving problems mothesnatic;

Who reads false quantities in Sele, But, if I scribble longer now,

Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle; The deuce a soul will stay to read ; Deprived of many a wholesome meal, My pen is blunt, my ink is low,

In barbarous Latin doom'd to wrangle; 'Tis almost time to stop, indeed. Renouncing every pleasing page

Therefore, farewell, old Granta's spires, From authors of historic use;

No more, like Cleofas, I fly; Preferring to the letter'd sage

No more thy theme my Muse inspires, The square of the hypothenuse.

The reader's tired, and so am I. Still, harınless are these occupations,

That hurt none but the hapless student, Compared with other recreations,

LACHIN Y GAIR. Which bring together the imprudent ;

LACHIN Y GAIR , as it is pronounced in the Whose daring revels shock the sight,

Erge, Loch NA GABR, towers proudly pre

eminent in the Northern Highlands, near InWhen vice and infamy combine;

vercanld. One of our modern Tourists menWhen drunkenness and dice unite,

tions it as the highest mountain , perhaps, in And every sense is steep'd in wine.

GREAT BRITAIN ; be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and picturesque

amongst our “ Caledonian Alps." Its appearNot so the methodistic crew,

ance is of a dusky hue, but the summit is the Who plans of reformation lay:

seat of eternal snows: near Lachin y Gair I In humble attitude they sue,

spent some of the early part of my life, the

recollection of which has given birth to the And for the sins of others pray;

following Stanzas. Forgetting, that their pride of spirit, Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of Their exultation in their trial,

roses! Detracts most largely from the merit In you let the minions of luxury rove; Of all their boasted self-denial.

Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake

reposes, 'Tis morn,- from these I turn my sight: Though still they are sacred to freedom What scene is this which meets the eye?

and love: A numerous crowd array'd in white, Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, Across the green in numbers fly.

Round their white summits though ele

ments war, Loud rings, in air, the chapel-bell; Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth 'Tis hush'd: What sounds are these I hear?

flowing fountains, The organ's soft celestial swell

I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr. Rolls deeply on the listening ear.

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy To this is join'd the sacred song,

wander'd, The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain; My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the Though he who hears the music long

plaid; Will never wish to hear again.

On chieftains long perish'd my memory

ponder'd, Our choir would scarcely be excused, As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd Even as a band of raw beginners;

glade; All mercy, now, must be refused,

I sought not my home till the day's dying To such a set of croaking sinners.

glory

Gave place to the rays of the bright polarIf David, when his toils were ended,

star; Had heard these blockheads sing before For Fancy was cheer'd by traditional story

him,

Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch To us his psalms had ne'er descended,

na Garr. In furious mood he would have tore 'em.

“Shades of the dead! have I not heard your The luckless Israelites, when taken,

voices By some inhuman tyrant's order,

Rise on the night-rolling breath of the Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken, On Babylonian river's border:

Surely the soul of the hero rejoices,

And rides on the wind o'er his own HighOh! had they sung in notes like these,

land vale: Inspired by stratagem or fear,

Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy They might have set their hearts at ease,

mist gathers, The devil a soul had stay'd to hear. Winter presides in his cold icy car;

gale ?"