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Inte the valley or death
3 Cannon to right of them,
Volleyed and thundered:
Rode the six hundred.
4 Flashed all their sabres bare,
All the world wondered:
Shattered and sundered.
5 Cannon to right of them,
Volleyed and thundered:
Left pf .six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
All the world wondered.
XXXVIIL — UNION AND LIBERTT.
1 Flag of the heroes who left us their glory,
Borne through our battle-field's thunder and flame, Blazoned in song and illumined in story, Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame!
Up with our banner bright,
Sprinkled with starry light,
While through the sounding sky,
Loud rings the nation's cry, —
2 Light of our firmament, guide of our nation,
Pride of her children, and honored afar,
3 Empire unsceptred! what foe shall assail thee, Bearing the standard of Liberty's van?
4 Yet, if by madness and treachery blighted,
Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw,
Then, with the arms of thy millions united,
5 Lord of the Universe! shield us and guide us,
Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun!
XXXIX.—DIALOGUE FROM IVANHOE.
Sir Walteb Scott.
[The following scene ia taken from " Ivanhoe," a novel, the scene of which is laid in England, in the twelfth century. Ivanhoe, an English knight, is lying wounded and a captive in the Castle of Front-de IJceuf, a Norman knight, while it is undergoing an assault from a party of outlawed forest rangers, aided by an unknown knight in black armor, hence called the Black Knight, who afterwards turns out to be Richard, King of England. Rebecca is a young Jewish maiden.]
Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security to 5 herself, could witness part of what was passing without the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants were making for the storm.
"The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow." 10 "Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe.
"Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Ilebecca.
"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed ! — Seest thou who they be that act as leaders?""A knight, clad in sable armor, is the most conspicu5 ous," said the Jewess; "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him."
"What device does he bear on his shield?" replied Ivanhoe." 10 "Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the black shield."
"A fetterlock and shacklebolt azure," said Ivanhoe; "I know not who may bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thou not see the 15 motto?"
"Scarce the device itself, at this distance," replied Rebecca; "but when the sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as I tell you."
"Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious 20 inquirer.
"None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," said Rebecca; "but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed. They appear even now preparing to advance." 25 Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements.
"And I must lie here like a bedridden monk," ex30 claimed Ivanhoe, "while the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others! — Look from the window once again, kind maiden, — but beware that you are not marked by the archers beneath, — look out once more, and tell me if they yet advance to the 35 storm."
With patient courage, strengthened by the interval ■•
which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath.
"What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the 5 wounded knight.
"Nothing but the cloud of arrows flyingso thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them."
"That cannot endure," said Ivanhoe; "if they press 10 not right on to carry the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for, as the leader is, so will his followers be." 15 "I see him not," said Rebecca.
"Foul craven!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm when the wind blows highest?"
"He blenches not! he blenches not!" said Rebecca; "I see him now; he leads a body of men close under the 20 outer barrier of the barbican. They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes. His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field of the slain. They have made a breach in the barriers — they rush in — they are thrust 25 back! — Frontde-Boeuf ° heads the defenders;—I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. It is the meeting of two fierce tides — the conflict of two oceans, moved by adverse winds!" 30 She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure a sight so terrible.
"Look forth again, Rebecca,' said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of her retiring; "the archery must in some degree have ceased, since they are now fighting hand to 85 band. Look again; there is now less danger."