9.

10

Your heart, old man! forgive-ha! on your lives

Let him not faint! rack him till he revives!

"Vain-vain-give o'er. His eye

Glazes apace. He does not feel you now.

Stand back! I'll paint the death dew on his brow!
-Gods! if he do not die

But for one moment-one- -till I eclipse

Conception with the scorn of those calm lips!

66

Shivering! Hark! he mutters

Brokenly now; that was a difficult breath;
Another? Wilt thou never come, oh, Death?
Look! how his temple flutters!

Is his heart still? Aha! lift up his head!
He shudders-gasps-Jove help him-so, he 's dead!”
11. How like a mountain devil in the heart

Rules this unreined ambition! Let it once
But play the monarch, and its haughty brow
Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought
And unthrones peace forever. Putting on
The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns

The heart to ashes, and with not a spring
Left in the desert for the spirit's lip,
We look upon our splendor, and forget
The thirst of which we perish!

WILLIS.

CLXXI.-THE SEMINOLE'S DEFIANCE.

1. BLAZE, with your serried columns! I will not bend the knee; The shackle ne'er again shall bind the arm which now is free! I've mailed it with the thunder, when the tempest muttered

low;

And where it falls, ye well may dread the lightning of its blow.
I've scared you in the city; I've scalped you on the plain;
Go, count your chosen where they fell beneath my leaden rain!
I scorn your proffered treaty; the pale-face I defy;
Revenge is stamped upon my spear, and "blood" my battle.
cry!

2. Some strike for hope of booty; some to defend their all:I battle for the joy I have to see the white man fall.

I love, among the wounded, to hear his dying moan,
And catch, while chanting at his side, the music of his grean.
Ye 'vo trailed me through the forest; ye 've tracked me o'er

the stream;

And struggling through the everglade your bristling bayonets gleam.

But I stand as should the warrior, with his rifle and his spear; The scalp of vengeance still is red, and warns you-" Coina not here!"

Think ye to find my homestead?—I gave it to the fire.
My tawny household do ye seek?—I am a childless sire.
But, should ye crave life's nourishment, enough I have, and
good;

I live on hate-'t is all my bread; yet light is not my food.
I loathe you with my bosom! I scorn you with mine eye!
And I'll taunt you with my latest breath, and fight you till I
die!

I ne'er will ask for quarter, and I ne'er will be your slave; But I'll swim the sea of slaughter till I sink beneath the wave!

G. W. PATTEN.

CLXXII.-LOVE OF COUNTRY.

1. BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,

"This is my own, my native land!"
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned,

From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel-raptures swell.

2. High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown;
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from which he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

3 O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child,

Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires; what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,

That knits me to thy rugged strand?

SCOTT.

CLXXIII.-VARIETIES.

1.-MELANCHOLY.

1. O MAN! while in thy early years,
How prodigal of time!
Misspending all thy precious hours,
Thy glorious youthful prime!
Alternate follies take the sway;
Licentious passions burn;

Which tenfold force give nature's law,
That man was made to mourn.

2. Look not alone on youthful prime,
Or manhood's active might;
Man then is useful to his kind,
Supported is his right:

But see him on the edge of life,
With cares and sorrows worn,

Then age and want, oh! ill-matched pair!
Show man was made to mourn.

3. A few seem favorites of fate,

In pleasures lap caressed;

Yet think not all the rich and great

Are likewise truly blest.

But, oh! what crowds in every land
Are wretched and forlorn;
Through weary life this lesson learn
That man was made to mourn.

4 Many and sharp the nameless ills
Inwoven with our frame!

More pointed still we make ourselves,
Regret, remorse, and shame!

And man, whose heaven-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,

That, of a nation armed, the strength contained;
And, I persuade me, God hath not permitted
His strength again to grow up with his hair,
Garrisoned round about him like a camp
Of faithful soldiery, were not his purpose
To use him farther yet in some great service;
Not to sit idle with so great a gift

Useless, and thence ridiculous about him;

And, since his strength with eye-sight was not lost,
God will restore him eye-sight to his strength.

Он, agony of fear!

4.-FEAR.

MILTON.

Would that he yet might live! even now I heard
The legate's followers whisper, as they passed,

They had a warrant for his instant death,

All was prepared by unforbidden means,

Which we must pay so dearly, having done,

Even now they search the tower, and find the body, Now they suspect the truth; now they consult

Before they come to tax us with the fact;

O, horrible! 't is all discovered!

5. THE POWER OF LOVE.

SHELLEY.

BUT love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye;
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopped;
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible,
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails;
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste:
For valor, is not love a Hercules,

Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?

Subtle as sphinx, as sweet and musical

As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;
And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods,
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.