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And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride :
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ;
The tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Asshura are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ;3
And the might of the Gentile,4 unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord !

Byron.

1 Sennacherib was the most powerful

of Assyrian monarchs ; he invaded Palestine in the time of Hezekiah for the purpose of preventing the union of the Hebrew and Egyptian armies. After the fearful overthrow narrated in the poem, he was assassinated by two of his sons

(2 Chron. xxxii. 21). 2 Asshur was the second son of Shem,

and gave his name to the vast

territory of Assyria. 3 Baal, Bel, or Belus was, in one form or

other, the supreme god of the Phænicians, Carthaginians, Syri

ans, and many other nations, 4 Gentile. This term was applied to all

who did not belong to the Jewish nation.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

Our bugles sang truce l—for the night-cloud had lowered, 2

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet 3 of straw,

By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain ; At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again.

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Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array,

Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track; 'Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant field, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore,

From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my

wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart :

"Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn;'

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stayBut sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ears melted away.

Campbell

1 Bugles sang truce, gave the signal to

cease fighting for a time. 2 The night-cloud had lowered, darkness

had set in.

3 Pallet, couch or bed.
4 Wolf-scaring fagot, a fire lighted to

frighten away wolves.
5 Life's morning march, boyhood.

THE BRIDGE.

I stood on the bridge at midnight,

As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city,

Behind the dark church-tower.

I saw her bright reflection

In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling

And sinking into the sea.

And far in the hazy distance

Of that lovely night in June, The blaze of the flaming furnace

Gleamed redder than the moon.

Among the long black rafters

The wavering shadows lay, And the current that came from the ocean

Seemed to lift and bear them away ;

As sweeping and eddying through them,

Rose the belated tide,
And streaming into the moonlight,

The sea-weed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing

Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o'er me

That filled my eyes with tears.

How often, oh, how often,

In the days that had gone by,
I had stood on that bridge at midnight,

And gazed on that wave and sky!

How often, oh, how often,

I had wished that the ebbing tide Would bear me away on its bosom

O'er the ocean wild and wide!

For
my

heart was hot and restless,
And
my

life was full of care, And the burden laid upon me

Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,

It is buried in the sea ;
And only the sorrow of others

Throws its shadow over me.

62

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.

Yet whenever I cross the river

On its bridge with wooden piers,
Like the odour of brine from the ocean

Comes the thought of other years,

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“Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle,

This dark and stormy water ?'
'Oh, I'm the chief of Ulva's Isle,

And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

• And fast before her father's men

Three days we've fled together ; For should be find us in the glen,

My blood would stain the heather.

‘His horsemen hard behind us ride ;

Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride,

When they have slain her lover?'

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight:?

'I'll go, my chief—I'm ready : It is not for your silver bright,

But for your winsome lady :

' And, by my word ! the bonny bird

In danger shall not tarry ; So, though the waves are raging white,

I'll row you o'er the ferry.'

3

By this the storm grew

loud

apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl 4 of heaven each face

Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still, as wilder blew the wind,

And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men

Their trampling sounded nearer.

6

O haste thee, haste !' the lady cries,

Though tempests round us gather ; I'll meet the raging of the skies,

But not an angry father.'

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her

When, oh! too strong for human hand,

The tempest gathered o'er her.

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