Within a window'd niche of that high hall And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear: And when they smiled because he deem'd it near His heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell. He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell! Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise! And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, Last noon-beheld our chieftains full of life; The midnight-brought the signal-sound of strife; The morn—the marshalling in arms,—the day— Battle's magnificently-stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover-heap'd and pent, Rider and horse,—friend, foe,-in one red burial blent ! 85. FRIENDS. LORD BYRON. FRIEN RIEND after friend departs; That finds not here an end; There is a world above, Where parting is unknown, Form'd for the good alone; Thus star by star declines, As morning high and higher shines, Nor sink those stars in empty night; They hide themselves in heaven's own light. JAMES MONTGOMERY. BE 86. SCHOOL DAYS. [From TIROCINIUM.] E it a weakness, it deserves some praise,We love the play-place of our early days; The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, The very name we carved subsisting still; The bench on which we sat while deep employed, Though mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, not yet destroy'd; The little ones, unbutton'd, glowing hot, Playing our games, and on the very spot, As happy as we once, to kneel and draw The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw, To pitch the ball into the grounded hat, Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat; The pleasing spectacle at once excites Such recollection of our own delights, That, viewing it, we seem almost t' obtain Our innocent, sweet, simple years again. This fond attachment to the well-known place, Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, COWPER. 87. THE DEATH OF VIRGINIA. [From LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.] TRAIGHTWAY Virginius led the maid a little space aside, and hide, Close to yon low, dark archway, where, in a crimson flood, Oh! how I loved my darling! Though stern I sometimes be, Now all these things are over—yes, all thy pretty ways, He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portions of the slave; Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and blow, Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou shalt never know! Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss ; And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this—” With that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died. LORD MACAULAY 88. THE HOUR OF PRAYER. YHILD, amidst the flowers at play, CHI While the red light fades away; Mother, with thy earnest eye, Lift the heart and bend the knee. Warrior, that from battle won, |