And bade them summon De Courcy now.
Swiftly his messengers hasted away,
And sought the cell where the hero lay;
Then bade him arise at his master's call,
And follow their steps to the stately hall.

He is brought before the council

There are chains upon his hands; With his silver hair, that aged knight, Like a rock o'erhung with foam-wreaths white, Proudly and calmly stands.

He gazes on the monarch

With stern and star-like eye;

And the company muse and marvel much,
That the light of the old man's eye is such,
After long captivity.

His fetters hang upon him

Like an unheeded thing;
Or like a robe of purple worn
With graceful and indifferent scorn

By some great-hearted king.

And strange it was to witness

How the false King looked aside ;
For he dared not meet his captive's eye!

The false King spake to his squires around,
And his lifted voice had an angry sound:
"Strike ye the chains from each knightly limb!
Who was so bold as to fetter him?
Warrior, believe me, no hest of mine

Bade them to fetter a form like thine;

Thy sovereign knoweth thy fame too well."

He paused, and a cloud on his dark brow fell;
For the knight still gazed upon him,

And his eye was like a star;

And the words on the lips of the false King died,
Like the murmuring sounds of an ebbing tide
By the traveler heard afar.

Not long did the heart of the false King thrill
To the touch of passing shame,

For it was hard, and mean, and chill;
As breezes sweep o'er a frozen rill,
Leaving it cold and unbroken still,

That feeling went and came.

And now to the knight he made reply,
Pleading his cause right craftily;
Skilled was his tongue in specious use
Of promise fair and of feigned excuse,
Blending with words of strong appeal
To love of fame and to loyal zeal.
At length he ceased; and every eye
Gazed on De Courcy wistfully.

Speak!" cried the king in that fearful pause;
'Wilt thou not champion thy monarch's cause?"

The old knight struck his foot on the ground,
Like a war-horse hearing the trumpet sound;
And he spake with a voice of thunder,
Solemn and fierce in tone,

Waving his hand to the stately band

Who stood by the monarch's throne,
As a warrior might wave his flashing glaive
When cheering his squadrons on-
"I will fight for the honor of England,
Though not for false King John!"

He hath crossed the booming ocean;
On the shore he plants his lance;
And he sends his daring challenge
Into the heart of France:
"Lo! here I stand for England,
Queen of the silver main!

To guard her fame, and to cleanse her name
From slander's darkening stain!

Advance! advance! ye knights of France,
Give answer to my call;

Lo! here I stand for England,

And I defy you all!"

From the east and the north came champions forth — They came in a knightly crowd;

From the south and the west each generous breast Throbbed at that summons proud.

But though brave was each lord, and keen each sword, No warrior could withstand

The strength of the hero-spirit

Which nerved that old man's hand.

He is conqueror in the battle

He hath won the wreath of bay;

To the shining crown of his fair renown
He hath added another

ray:

He hath drawn his sword for England;

He hath fought for her spotless name;
And the isle resounds to her farthest bounds
With her gray-haired hero's fame.
In the ears of the craven King

Oft must this burthen ring

"Though the crown be thine, and the royal line, He is in heart thy king!"

THE FIREMAN.

HOARSE wintry blasts a solemn requiem sung
To the departed day,
Upon whose bier

The velvet pall of midnight had been flung,

And nature mourned through one wide hemisphere. Silence and darkness held their cheerless sway,.

Save in the haunts of riotous excess;

And half the world in dreamy slumbers lay,
Lost in the maze of sweet forgetfulness.
When lo! upon the startled ear,

There broke a sound so dread and drear
As, like a sudden peal of thunder,
Burst the bands of sleep asunder,

And filled a thousand throbbing hearts with fear.

Hark! the faithful watchman's cry
Speaks a conflagration nigh!—
See! yon glare upon the sky,

Confirms the fearful tale.

The deep-mouthed bells, with rapid tone,
Combine to make the tidings known;
Affrighted silence now has flown,

And sounds of terror fright the chilly gale!

At the first note of this discordant din,

The gallant fireman from his slumber starts;
Reckless of toil and danger, if he win
The tributary meed of grateful hearts.
From pavement rough, or frozen ground,
His engine's rattling wheels resound,

And soon before his eyes
The lurid flames, with horrid glare,
Mingled with murky vapors rise,
In wreathy folds upon the air,

And vail the frowning skies!

Sudden a shriek assails his heart-
A female shriek, so piercing wild,
As makes his very life-blood start:
"My child! Almighty God, my child!”
He hears,

And 'gainst the tottering wall,

The ponderous ladder rears;
While blazing fragments round him fall,
And crackling sounds assail his ears.

His sinewy arm, with one rude crash,
Hurls to the earth the opposing sash;
And heedless of the startling din,
Though smoky volumes round him roll,
The mother's shriek has pierced his scul,
See! see! he plunges in!

The admiring crowd, with hopes and fears,
In breathless expectation stands,

When lo! the daring youth appears,

Hailed by a burst of warm, ecstatic cheers,
Bearing the child triumphant in his hands!

ANONYMOUS.

BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

THERE was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage-bell;

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell !

No; 't was but the wind,

Did ye
not hear it?
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street:

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying fleet..
But, hark!- that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat.

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

-

Arm! arm! it is—it is the cannon's opening roar!

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
Blushed 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,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar ;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips-"The foe! they come !
they come !"

BYRON.

THE AVENGING CHILDE.

HURRAH! hurrah! avoid the way of the Avenging Childe;

His horse is swift as sands that drift, an Arab of the wild;
His gown is twisted round his arm, a ghastly cheek he wears;
And in his hand, for deadly harm, a hunting knife he bears.

Avoid that knife in battle-strife: that weapon short and thin, The dragon's gore hath bathed it o'er, seven times 't was steeped therein;

Seven times the smith hath proved its pith,--it cuts a coulter through; In France the blade was fashioned, from Spain the shaft it drew.

-

He sharpens it, as he doth ride, upon his saddle-bow,

He sharpens it on either side, he makes the steel to glow :