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681. THE NATURE OF ELOQUENCE. Shall smile--upon its keenest pains, When public bodies are to be addressed, on

And scorn redress." momentous occasions, when great interests

I said to Death's uplifted dart, are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech, farther than it

“ Aim sure! oh, why delay ? is connected with high intellectual and mor

Thou wilt not find a fearful heart, al endowments. Clearness, force, and earn

A weak, reluctant prey; estness, are the qualities which produce con- For still—the spirit, firm, and free, viction. True eloquence, indeed, does not Triumphant in the last dismay, consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but

Wrapt--in its own eternity, they will toil in vain.

Shall, smiling, pass away." Words and phrases may be marshaled in 683. PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. every way, but they cannot compass it. It'Mid the light spray, their snorting camels stood, must exist in the man, in the subject, and in Nor bath'd a fetlock, in the nauseous flood : the occasion. Affected passion, intense ex- He comes-their leader comes! the man of God, pression, the pomp of declamation, all may O'er the wide waters, lifts his mighty rod, aspire after it, but cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a

And onward treads. The circling waves retreat, fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth In hoarse, deep murmurs, from his holy feet; of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, and the chas'd surges, inly roaring, show native force.

The hard wet sind, and coral hills below. The graces taught in the schools, the costly with limbs, that falter, and with hearts, that swell, ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, Down, down they pass—a steep, and slippery dell. and the fate of their wives, their children, and Around them rise, in pristine chaos hurld, their country, hang on the decision of the The ancient rocks, the secrets of the world ; hour. Then, words have lost their power, and flowers, that blush beneath the ocean green, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory, and caves, the sea-calves' low-roofd haunts, are contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked, and subdued, as in the presence of Down,safelydown the narrow pass they tread;[seen. higher qualities.

The beetling waters-storm above their head; Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self-While far behind, retires the sinking day, devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, And fades on Edom's hills, its latest ray. out-running the deductions of logic, the high Yet not from Israel-fled the friendly light, purpose, of firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, or dark to them, or cheerless came the night; speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the Still, in their van, along that dreadful road, [God. whole man onward, right onward to his ob- Blaz'd broad and fierce, the brandish'd torch of ject,--this-is eloquence.-Webster. Its meteor glare-a tenfold lustre gave,

On the long mirror-of the rosy wave : 682. THE SOUL'S DEFIANCE.

While its blest beams-a sunlike heat supply, I said to Sorrow's awful storm,

Warm every cheek, and dance in every eye. That beat against my breast,

To them alone-for Misraim's wizard train “Rage on! thou may'st destroy this form,

Invoke, for light, their monster-gods in vain : And lay it low--at rest;

Clouds heap d on clouds, their struggling sight conBut still--the spirit that now brooks

And tenfold darkness hroods above their line. (fine, Thy tempest, raging high,

Yet on they press, by reckless vengeance led, Undaunted, on its fury looks-

And range, unconscious, through the ocean's bed, With steadfast eye."

Till midway now-that strange, and fiery form, I said--to Penury's meagre train,

Show'd his dread visage, lightning through the “Come on! your threats I brave;

storm; My last, poor life-drop--you may drain, With withering splendor, blasted all their might, And crush me to the grave;

And brake their chariot-wheels, and marred their Yet still, the spirit, that endures,

coursers' flight. Shall mark your force—the while,

"Fly, Misraim, fly!" The ravenous floods they see, And meet each cold, cold grasp of

yours, And, fiercer than the floods, the Deity. With bitter smile."

"Fly, Misraim, ily!" From Edom's coral strand, I said—10 cold Neglect, and Scorn,

Again the prophet stretch'd his dreadful wand: “Pass on! I heed you not;

With one wild crash, the thundering waters sweep, Ye may pursue me, till my form,

And all-is waves-a dark, and lonely deep :And being-are forgot;

Yet, o'er these lonely waves, such murmurs past, Yet, still—the spirit, which you see

As mortal wailing swell’d the nightly blast :
Undaunted by your wiles,


strange, and sad, the whispering breezes bore Draws from its own nobility

The groans of Egypt—to Arabia's shore.-Heber. Its high-born smiles. I said--to Friendship’s menaced blow,

She never told her love, “Strike deep! my heart shall bear; But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Thou canst but add-one bitter wo

Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in though, To those-already there ;

And, with a grcen and yellow melancholy,
Yet stili—the spirit, that sustains

She sat like patience on a monument,
This last-severe distress,

Smiling at grief.


684. GREEK LITERATURE. It is impos- | And, lost each human trace, surrendering up sible-to contemplate the annals of Greek lit- Thine individual being, shalt thou go, erature, and art, without being struck with To mix forever with the elements, them, as by far the most extraordinary, and to be a brother-to th' insensible rock, brilliant phenomenon, in the history oi the human mind. The very language, even in its And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain primitive simplicity, as it came down from the Turns with his share, and treads upon. rhapsodists, who celebrated the exploits of

The oakHercules, and Theseus, was as great a won- Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold. der, as any it records.

Yet not, to thy eternal resting place, All the other tongues, that civilized men have spoken, are poor, and feeble, and bar- Shalt thou retire, alone—nor could'st thou wish barous, in comparison of it. Its compass,

Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down and flexibility, its riches, and its powers, are With patriarchs of the infant world, with kings, altogether unlimited. It not only expresses, The powerful of the earth, the wise, the good, with precision, all that is thought, or known, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, at any given period, but it enlarges itself na- All-in one—mighty sepulchre. turally,

with the progress of science, and affords, as if without an effort, a new phrase, or

The hills, a systematic nomenclature, whenever one is Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales, called for.

Stretching in pensive quietness between; It is equally adapted to every yariety of The venerable woods; rivers, that move style, and subject, to the most shadowy sub- In majesty, and the complaining brooks (all, tlety of distinction, and the utmost exactness That make the meadows green; and, poured round of definition, as well as to the energy, and the pathos of popular eloquence, to the majesty,

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, the elevation, the variety of the Epic, and the Are but the solemn decorations allboldest license of the Dithyrambic, no less of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, than to the sweetness of the Elegy, the sim- The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, plicity of the Pastoral, or the heedless gayety, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, and delicate characterization of Comedy.

Through the still lapse of ages. Above all, what is an unspeakable charm, a sort of naivete is peculiar to it, and appears

All that tread in all those various styles, and is quite as be- The globe, are but a handfull, to the tribes, coming, and agreeable, in an historian, or a That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings philosopher, Xenophon for instance, as in the Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, light and jocund numbers of Anacreon.

Or, lose thyself in the continuous woods, Indeed, were there no other object, in learn- Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, ing Greek, but to see-to what perfection lan- Save its own dashings-yet-the dead are there; guage is capable of being carried, not only as a medium of communication, but as an instru- And millions in those solitudes, since first ment of thought, we see not why the time of the flight of years began, have laid them down a young man would not be just as well be- In their last sleep: the dead-reign there-alone. stowed, in acquiring a knowledge of it, for all the purposes, at least of a liberal,

or element- So shalt thou rest; and what, if thou shalt fall, ary education, as in learning algebra, another Unnoticed by the living; and no friendspecimen of a language, or arrangement of Take note of thy departure? All that breathe signs perfect in its kind. -Legare.

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh, 685. OUR EXIT: THANATOPSIS.

When thou art gone; the solemn brood of care To him, who, in the love of nature, holds

Plod on; and each one, as before, will chase Communion with her visible forms, she speaks His favorite phantom; yet, all these shall leave A various language; for his gayer hours, Their mirth, and their enjoyments, and shall come, She has a voice of gladness, and a smile,

And make their bed with thee. As the long train And eloquence of beauty, and she glides

Of ages glide away, the sons of men, Into his dark musings, with a mild,

The youth, in life's green spring, and he, who goes And gentle sympathy, that steals away

In the full strength of years, matron, and maid, Their sharpness, ere he is aware.

The bowed with age, the infant, in the smiles When thoughts

And beauty of its innocent age, cut off, — or the last bitter hour, come like a blight Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, Over thy spirit, and sad images

By those, who, in their turn, shall follow them. Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

So live, that when thy summons comes, to join And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,

The innumerable caravan, that moves Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take Go foi :h into the open sky, and list

His chamber, in the silent halls of death, To na..:e's teaching, while, from all around,

'Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, [ed, Comes a still voice

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained, and sooth“Yet a few days, and thee,

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, The all-beholding sun shall see no more,

Like one, who wraps the drapery of his couch In all his course; nor yet, in the cold ground,

About him, and lies down—to pleasant dreams." Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,

It is jealousy's—peculiar nature, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

To swell small things—to great; nay, out of nought, Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim

To conjure much, and then, lose its reasonThy growth, to be resolved to earth again;

Amid the hideous phantoms,-it has formed.

686. BENEFITS OF AGRICULTURE. Agriculture—is the greatest among the arts; for it is first in supplying our necessities. It is the mother, and nurse-of all other arts. It favors and strengthens population; it creates and maintains manufactures; gives employment to navigation, and materials to commerce. It animates every species of industry, and opens—to nations the surest channels of opulence. It is also the strongest bond of well regulated society, the surest basis of internal peace, the natural association of good morals.

We ought to count, among the benefits of agriculture, the charm, which the practice of it communicates to a country life. That charm, which has made the country, in our view, the retreat of the hero, the asylum of the sage, and the temple of the historic muse. The strong desire, the longing after the country, with which we find the bulk of mankind to be penetrated, points to it as the chosen abode of sublunary bliss. The sweet occupations of culture, with her varied products and attendant enjoyments, are, at least, a relief from the stifling atmosphere of the city, the monotony of subdivided employments, the anxious uncertainty of commerce, the vexations of ambition so often disappointed, of self-love so often mortified, of factitious pleasures, and unsubstantial vanities.

Health, the first and best of all the blessings of life, is preserved and fortified by the practice of agriculture. That state of well-being, which we feel and cannot define; that selfsatisfied disposition, which depends, perhaps, on the perfect equilibrium, and easy play of vital forces, turns the slightest acts to pleasure, and makes every exertion of our faculties a source of enjoyment; this inestimable state of our bodily functions is most vigorous in the country, and if lost elsewhere, it is in the country we expect to recover it.

The very theatre of agricultural avocations, "gives them a value that is peculiar; for who can contemplate, without emotion, the magnificent spectacle of nature, when, arrayed in vernal hues, she renews the scenery of the world! All things revive her powerful voice

-the meadow resumes its freshness and verdure; a living sap circulates through every budding tree; flowers spring to meet the warm caresses of Zephyr, and from their opening petals pour forth rich perfume. The songsters of the forest once more awake, and in tones of melody, again salute the coming dawn; and again they deliver to the evening echom their strains of tenderness and love. Can man--rational, sensitive man-can he remain unmoved hy the surrounding presence! and where else, than in the country, can he behold, where else can he feel—this jubilee of nature, this universal joy !--MacNeven. Let me lead you from this place of sorrow, To one where young delights attend ; and joys, Yet new,

unborn, and blooming in the bud, Which want to be full-blown at your approach, And spread like roses, to the morning sun; Where ev'ry hour shall roll in circling joys, And love shall wing the tedious-wasting day. Life without love. is load; and time stands still : What we refuse 10 him, to death we give; And then, then only, when we love, we live.

687. THE AMERICAN FLAG. When Freedom-from her mountain height,

Unfuri'd her standard-to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,

And set the stars of glory--there.
She mingled, with its gorgeous dyes,
The milky baldric-of the skies,
And striped its pure-celestial white,
With streakings of the morning light ;
Then, from his mansion-in the sun
She called her eagle-bearer-down,
And gave-into his mighty hand,
The symbol-of her chosen land.
Majestic monarch-of the cloud,

Who rear'st aloft-thy regal form,
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud,
And see the lightning lances driven,

When strive-the warriors of the storm,
And rolls—the thunder-drum of heaven,-
Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given,

To guard the banner of the free,
To hover-in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings-shine, afar,
Like rainbows-on the cloud of war,

The harbingers-of victory!
Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope-and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line--comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier eye-shall brightly turn
To where thy meteor glories burn;
And, as his springing steps advance,
Catch war, and vengeance-from the glance.
And when the cannon-mouthings loud,
Heave, in wild wreaths, the battle-shroud,
And gory sabres rise, and fall,
Like shoots of flame-on midnight's pall ;
There shall thy victor glances glow,

And cowering foes-shall fall beneath
Each gallant arm, that strikes below

That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave,
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave :
When death, careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly-round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves-rush wildly back-
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea,
Shall look, at once, to heaven-and thee,
And smile-to see thy splendors fly,
In triuniph--o'er his closing eye.
Flag of the free heart's only home!

By angel hands--to valor given;
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues--were born in heaven. Forever float--that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe-but falls before us, With Freedom's soil--beneath our feet,

And Freedom's banner-streaming o'er us!
His being was in her alone,
And he not being, she was none.
They joy'd one joy, one grief they griev'd,
One love they lov'd, one life they liv'd.

688. TRIBUTE TO WASHINGTON. Hard, Bowl-rang to bowl,-steel-clanged to steel,«and rose a deafen. hard indeed, was the contest for freedom, and ing cry, the struggle for independence. The golden That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high: sun of liberty-had nearly set, in the gloom “Ho! cravens, do ye fear him ?—Slaves, traitors! have ye flown? of an eternal night, ere its radiant beams il- Ho! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone ! lumined our western horizon. Had not the But I defy him :-let him come!" Down rang the massy cup, tutelar saint of Columbia-hovered around While, from its sheath, the ready blade came flashing half-way up; the American camp, and presided over her And, with the black, and heavy plumes-scarce trembling on his destinies, freedom must have met with an

head, untimely grave. Never, can we sufficiently ad-There—in his dark, carved, oaken chair, Old Rudiger sat, deado mire the wisdom of those statesmen, and the

690. QUEEN MAB. skill, and bravery, of those unconquerable ve- then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. terans, who, by their unwearied exertions in She is the fairy's midwife, and she comes the cabinet, and in the field, achieved for us In shape, no bigger than an agate-slone, the glorious revolution. Never, can we duly appreciate the merits of a Washington; who, On the forefinger of an alderman; with but a handfullofundisciplined yeomanry, Drawn with a team of little atomies, triumphed over a royal army, and prostrated Athwart men's noses, as they lie asleep: the lion of England at the feet of the Ameri. Her wagon spokesmade of long spinner's legs; can eagle. His name,-so terrible to his foes, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers; so welcome to his friends,--shall live forever The traces-n-of the smallest spiders web; upon the brightest page of the historian, and The collars—of the moonshine's watery beams ; be remembered, with the warmest emotions of gratitude, and pleasure, by those, whom Her whip-of cricket’s bone; her lash—of film; he had contributed to make happy, and by Her wagoner-a small gray-coated gnat, all mankind, when kings, and princes, and Not half so big—as a round-little worm, nobles, for ages, shall have sunk into their Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; merited oblivion. Unlike them, he needs not Her chariot—is an empty hazel-nut, the assistance of the sculptor, or the architect, Made by the joiner-squirrel, or old grub, to perpetuate his memory: he needs nó

Time out of mind, the fairies' coach-makers. princely dome, no monumental pile, no stately pyramid, whose towering height shall And in this state she gallops, night by night, pierce the stormy clouds, and rear its lofty Thro' lovers' brains, and then they dream of love: head to heaven, to tell posterity his fame. On courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies strait : His deeds, his worthy deeds, alone have ren- O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; dered him immortal! When oblivion shall O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; have swept away thrones, kingdoms, and sometimes, she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, principalities--when human greatness, and grandeur, and glory, shall have mouldered in- And then, dreams he of smelling out a suit: to dust,--eternity itself shall catch the glow. And sometimes comes she, with a tithe-pig's tail, ing theme, and dwell with increasing rapture Tickling the parson, as he lies asleep; on his name!--Gen. Harrison.

Then dreams he-of another benefice. 689. THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET. Sometimes, she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, Der a low couch-the setting sun—had thrown its latest ray, And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats, Where, in his last-strong agony-a dying warrior lay,

Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, The stern-old Baron Rudiger, whose frame—had ne'er been bent

Of healths five fathoms deep; and then anon By wasting pain, till time, and toil-its iron strength had spent.

Drums in his ears, at which he starts, and wakes; 6 They come around me here, and say my days of life are o'er, That I shall mount my noble steed, and lead my band no more;

And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two They come, and to my beard-they dare to tell me now, that I, And sleeps again.-Shakspeare. Their own liege lord, and master born,-that I, ha! ha! must die.

YOUTH AND AGE. When the summer day And what is death? I've dared him oft-before the Paynim spear,

of youth--is slowly wasting away into the Think ye he's entered at my gate, has come to seek me here? I've met him, faced him, scorn'd’him, when the fight was raging nightfall of age, and the shadows of past years hot,

grow deeper and deeper, as life wears to its I'll try his might-I'll brave his power; defy, and fear him not.

close, it is pleasant to look back, through the

vista of time, upon the sorrows and felicities Ho! sound the tocsin from my tower,--and fire the culverin,But each retainer-arm with speed, -call every vassal in,

of our earlier years. If we have a home to Up with my banner on the wall,--the banquet board prepare,

shelter, and hearts to rejoice with us, and Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there!"

friends have been gathered together around An hundred hands were busy then, the banquet

forth was spread, wayfaring will have been worn and smoothed

our firesides, then, the rough places of our And rung-the heavy oaken floor, with many a martial tread; While from the rich, dark tracery-along the vaulted wall,

away, in the twilight of life, while the sunny Lights-—-gleamed on harness, plume and spear, o'er the proud old spots we have passed through, will grow Gothic hall.

brighter and more beautiful. Happy, indeed, Fast hurrying through the outer gate—the mailed retainers pour'd, are they, whose interference with the world On thro’ the portal's frowning arch, and throng'd around the board. has not changed the tone of their holier feelWhile, at its head, within his dark, carved oaken chair of state, ings, or broken those musical chords of the Armed cap-a-pie, steru Rudiger, with girded falchion, sate.

heart, whose vibrations are so melodious, so “Fill every breaker up, my men, pour forth the cheering wine,

tender and touching, in the evening of age. There's life, and strength-in every drop,-thanksgiving to the yine! When Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes Are ye all there, my vassals true?-mine eyes are waxing dim; First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose. Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim.

Each change of many-color'd life he drew;
Ye 're there, but yet I see ye not. Draw forth each trusty sword,
And let me hear your faithful steel clash, once around my board :

Exhausted worlds, and then imagin’d new: I hear it faintly:-Louder yet!-What clogs my heavy breath?

Existence-saw him spurn her bounded reign; Up all,--and shout for Rudiger, Defiance unto Death!"" And panting Time-toil'd after him in vain.

691. THE PASSING OF THE RUBICON. A But still, as wilder grew the wind, gentleman, Mr. President, speaking of Ce

And as the night-grew drearer, sar's benevolent disposition, and of the re- Adown the glen-rode armed men, luctance, with which he entered into the civil Their trampling-sounded nearer. war, observes, “How long did he pause upon “O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, the brink of the Rubicon ?" How came he “Though tempests round us gather; to the brink of that river! How dared he I'll meet the raging of the skies, cross it! Shall private men respect the boun

But not an angry father.daries of private property, and shall a man

The boat-has left the stormy land, pay no respect to the boundaries of his coun

A stormy sea--before her try's rights? How dared he cross that riv- When, oh! too strong for human hand, er! Oh! but he paused upon the brink ! He

The tempest-gathered o'er her. should have perished upon the brink, ere he

And still they rowed, amidst the roar had crossed it! Why did he pause? Why Of waters, fast prevailing: does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the

Lord Ullin-reached that fatal shore, point of committing an unlawful deed! Why

His wrath-was changed to wailing. does the very murderer, his victim sleeping

For, sore dismayed, through storm, and shade, before him, and his glaring eye, taking the

His child-he did discover; measure of the blow, strike wide of the mor

One lovely hand-she stretched for aid, tal part? Because of conscience! 'Twas

And one-was round her lover. that made Cesar pause upon the brink of the

“Come back! come back!” he cried in grief, Rubicon. Compassion! What compassion!

"Across this stormy water :

And I'll forgive your Highland chief: The compassion of an assassin, that feels a momentary shudder, as his weapon begins

My daughter! oh, my daughter!

"Twas vain: the loud waves-lashed the shore, to cut! Cesar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon! What was the Rubicon ? The

Return, or aid-preventing :

The waters wild went o'er his child, boundary of Cesar's province. From what

And he was left-lamenting.–Campbell. did it separate his province? From his country. Was that country a desert? No: it 693. PROGRESS OF GOVERNMENT. In was cultivated and fertile; rich and popu- government, as in science, it is useful, often lous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, to review its progress, and to revert, even to and generosity! Its daughters were lovely, its simplest elements. It will be salutary,fresusceptible, and chaste! Friendship was its quently to ascertain, how far society, and inhabitant! Love was its inhabitant! Do- laws, in their present condition, accord with mestic affection was its inhabitant! Liberty those, which we have been accustomed to was its inhabitant! All bounded by the consider, as their first and purest principles; stream of the Rubicon! What was Česar, how far, in the lapse of time, they may have that stood upon the bank of that stream? A deviated from their original form and structraitor, bringing war and pestilence into the ture. Even when we recur to inquiries, heart of that country! No wonder that he merely speculative, to imaginary“ social conpaused — no wonder if, his imagination tracts,” to abstract rights, we may often gathwrought upon by his conscience, he had be- er instruction, and detect some concealed, or held blood-instead of water; and heard neglected truth, applicable to our own times, groans, instead of murmurs! No wonder if and to our own immediate condition. some gorgon horror had turned him into stone But when a government is derived, not upon the spot! But, no!-he cried, “The from fictitious assumptions, not from ancient díe is cast! He plunged !-he crossed !- or obscure sources, or traditions, but, from and Rome was free no more!-Knowles. actual, and specific agreement; when many, 692. LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.

and various interests have been combined A chieftain—10 the Highlands bound,

and compromised, and a written covenant

has assured to many parties, rights, and powCries." Boatman, do not tarry! And I'll give thee a silver pound,

ers, and privileges, it becomes a duty to reTo row us o'er the ferry."

vise this compact frequently and strictly, that “Now, who be ye-would cross Loch-Gyle, prived, through inadvertence on the one part,

no one entitled to its protection may be deThis dark-and stormy water?" “O! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,

or encroachment on the other, of his vested And this-lord Ullin's daughter.

rights; and that no changes may be introdu4 And fast before her father's men,

ced into the compact, but by the actual conThree days—we've fled together,

sent of those, who are parties to the covenant. For should he find us in the glen,

Every spirit, as it is most pure,
My blood-would stain the heather.

And hath in it the more of heavenly light, “ His horsemen-hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover,

So it the fairer body doth procure
Then who will cheer my bonny bride,

To habit in, and it more fairly diglit
When they have slain her lover?”

With cheerful grace, and amiable sight; Out spoke the hardy, Highland wight,

For of the soul, the body form doth take,
“I'll go, my chief-I'm ready:

For soul is form, and doth the body make.
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady:

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, "And, by my word! the bonny bird

This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, In danger, shall not tarry ;

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, though the waves are raging white, 1:11 Tow you o'er the ferry.

Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind ?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies, By this, the storm grew loud-apace, The water-wraith-was shrieking;

Some pious drops the closing eye requires : And, in the scowl of heaven, each face

Evin from the tomb, the voice of nature cries, Grew dark-as they were speaking.

Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

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