35. THE NEGLECTED CHILD. Bayly. I never was a favorite My mother never smiled And yet I strove to please, with all But when my artless efforts met How blessed are the beautiful! : I learned to know thy worth:For even there, I often felt Forsaken and forlorn, And wished-for others wished it tooI never had been born! I'm sure I was affectionate,— But in my sister's face, There was a look of love that claimed A smile, or an embrace. But when I raised my lip, to meet None knew the feelings of my heart, They spoke not in my eyes. But oh! that neart too keenly felt I saw my sister's lovely form With gems and roses decked; But soon a time of triumph came- For sickness o'er my sister's form "Twas then, unwearied, day and night I watched beside her bed, And fearlessly upon my breast She lived!-she loved me for my care!— I was a lonely being once, Now stood Eliza on the wood-crowned height, O'er Minden's plain, spectatress of the fight; Sought with bold eye, amid the bloody strife, Her dearer self, the partner of her life; From hill to hill the rushing host pursued, And viewed his banner, or believed she viewed. Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread, Fast by his hand one lisping boy she led; And one fair girl, amid the loud alarm, Slept on her kerchief, cradled by her arm; While round her brows bright beams of honor dart, And love's warm eddies circle round her heart. Near and more near the intrepid beauty pressed,Saw through the driving smoke his dancing crest, Heard the exulting shout, "They run! they run !" "Great God!" she cried, "he's safe! the battle's won!” A ball now hisses through the airy tides, (Some fury wings it, and some demon guides,) Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck, Wounds her fair ear and sinks into her neck; The red stream issuing from her azure veins, Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains.Ah me!" she cried, and sinking on the ground, Kissed her dear babes, regardless of the wound. 37. "Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn! Oh, spare ye war-hounds, spare their tender age, Eliza echoes through the canvass walls; Quick through the murmuring gloom his footseps tread "Oh heavens!" he cried, "my first rash vow forgive! Round his chill babes he wrapped his crimson vest, BETH GELERT; OR, THE DEATH OF THE GRAYHOUND. Spencer. The spearmen heard the bugle sound, And many a brach and many a hound, And still he drew a louder blast, "Come Gelert, come-wert never last Oh where does faithful Gelert roam, So true, so brave; a lamb at home, In sooth he was a peerless hound, But now no Gelert could be found, That day Llewellyn little loved Unpleased Llewellyn homeward hied, But when he gained his castle door, The hound all o'er was smeared with gore, Llewellyn gazed with much surprise, His favorite checked his joyful guise, Onward in haste Llewellyn past, O'erturned his infant's bed he found, He called his child; no voice replied; 'Hell-hound! my child by thee's devoured," And to the hilt his vengeful sword Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh- Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread, Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain? 38. MARCO BOZZARIS, THE EPAMINONDAS OF MODERN His last words were-" To die for liberty is a pleasure and not a pain." At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour, In dreams through camp and court, he bore In dreams his song of triumph heard; Then pressed that monarch's throne-a king; As Eden's garden bird. An hour passed on-the Turk awoke; |