Know ye

the land of the cedar and vine,

Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye:
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?

'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the sunCan he smile on such deeds as his children have done? O! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell,

Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell

BYRON.

68. THE MARINER'S DREAM.

In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay,

His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind;
But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.

He dream'd of his home, of his dear native bowers,
On pleasures that waited on life's merry morn;
While memory stood sideways half cover'd with flowers,
And restored every rose, but secreted the thorn.

Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise;
Now, far, far behind him the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall;
All trembling with transport he raises the latch,
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,
His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear;
And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,

Joy quickens his pulse-all his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest"O God! thou hast blest me, I ask for no more."

Ah! whence is the flame which now bursts on his eye?
Ah! what is that sound that now larums his ear?
"Tis the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky!
"Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere !
He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck;
Amazement confronts him with images dire ;—
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck,
The masts fly in splinters-the shrouds are on fire!
Like mountains the billows tumultuously swell,

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save;-
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave.

O, sailor boy! wo to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss ;— Where now is the picture that fancy touch'd bright, Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honey'd kiss?

O! sailor boy! sailor boy! never again

Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay;
Unbless'd and unhonour'd, down deep in the main,
Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge;
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge.

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye-

O, sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul!

DIMOND.

69.-THE AMERICAN PATRIOT'S SONG.

HARK! hear ye the sounds that the winds on their pinions Exultingly roll from the shore to the sea,

With a voice that resounds through her boundless dominions? 'Tis Columbia calls on her sons to be free!

Behold on yon summits where Heaven has throned her, How she starts from her proud inaccessible seat ; With nature's impregnable ramparts around her,

And the cataract's thunder and foam at her feet! In the breeze of her mountains her loose locks are shaken, While the soul-stirring notes of her warrior song From the rock to the valley re-echo, “Awaken, Awaken, ye hearts that have slumber'd too long!" Yes, despots! too long did your tyranny hold us,

In a vassalage vile, ere its weakness was known; Till we learn'd that the links of the chain that controll'd us Were forged by the fears of its captives alone. That spell is destroy'd, and no longer availing, Despised as detested-pause well ere ye dare To cope with a people whose spirits and feeling Are roused by remembrance and steel'd by despair. Go tame the wild torrent, or stem with a straw

The proud surges that sweep o'er the strand that confines them,

But presume not again to give freemen a law,

Nor think with the chains they have broken to bind them.

To hearts that the spirit of liberty flushes,

Resistance is idle, and numbers a dream ;

They burst from control, as the mountain stream rushes From its fetters of ice, in the warmth of the beam.

ANONYMOUS.

70.-LOCHINVAR.

O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the West,
Through all the wide border his steed was the best;
And save his good broad sword he weapon had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late :
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby hall,

Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ;Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide— And now am I come with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 'The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,— "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace;

66

While her mother did fret and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bridemaidens whisper'd, "Twere better by far
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode, and they

ran;

There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?
SIR W. SCOTT.

71.-EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH OF ROBERT G. HARPER, ON THE NECESSITY OF RESISTING THE AGGRESSIONS AND ENCROACHMENTS OF FRANCE, DELIVERED IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, MAY 29, 1797.

MR. CHAIRMAN,-It being, as I conceive, perfectly manifest from all these considerations, that the plan of France has always been to draw us into the war; the house is furnished with a ready solution of her anger against the British treaty, and a clue to all her present measures. It is evident, that her anger at the treaty has arisen entirely from its having defeated her plan of drawing us into the war; and it will readily appear, that the whole aim and object of her present measures are to compel us to renounce it; to drive us into that quarrel with England, into which she has failed in her attempts to entice us. She must either mean this, or she must mean seriously to attack us, and drive us into a war against herself. To discover which of these is her real object, what is the true motive of her present measures, is of the utmost importance; because till that is done, it will be difficult to determine in what manner those measures ought to be counteracted, which is the point immediately under consideration. I can never believe that it is the intention of France seriously to attack this country, or to drive it into a war against herself. She has too much to lose and too little to gain by such a contest, to have seriously resolved on it, or even to wish it. In her counsels I have observed great wickedness, but no folly; and it would be the extreme of folly in her to compel this country to become her enemy; especially in the present war, when we can throw so formidable a weight into the opposite scale.

France well knows our power in that respect, and will not compel us to exert it. She well knows that we possess more ships and more seamen than any country upon earth, except England alone. She well knows that