258 A PIOUS EDITOR'S CREED. This doth my cup with marcies fill, But, O, I du in interest. I du believe in bein' this I du believe thet holdin' slaves I du believe wutever trash 'll keep the people in blindness, In short, I firmly du believe Fer it's a thing thet I perceive This heth my faithful shepherd been, An' this'll keep the people green J. R. Lowell, IVAN THE CZAR. IVAN THE CZAR. 259 "Ivan the Terrible, having already become old, was besieging Novgorod. The Boyards, seeing his feebleness, asked if he would not give the command of the assault to his son. His fury was so great at this proposal that nothing would appease him. His son prostrated himself at his feet. He repulsed him with a blow of such violence that in two days he died. Ivan then, in despair, became indifferent to the war, and only survived his son a few months."-Ten Years of Exile, by Madame de Stael. He sat in silence on the ground, The old and haughty Czar, Lonely, though princes girt him round, He had cast his jewelled sabre, That many a field had won, To the earth beside his youthful dead— With a robe of ermine for its bed, On the pallid face came down, Low tones at last of woe and fear Came forth in strange, dull, hollow tones, "There is no crimson on thy cheek, I call thee, and thou dost not speak- For the honour of thy father's name, 260 IVAN THE CZAR. "Well might I know death's hue and mien- And bravest there of all: How could I think a warrior's frame "I will not bear that still cold look- Hath my word lost its power on earth? I "Didst thou not know I loved thee well? In bitterness of soul, to dwell That seemed to thee so stern. "Thou were the first, the first fair child, I reared thee as an eagle, To the chase thy steps I led; I bore thee on my battle-horse, thee-dead! I look upon "Lay down my warlike banners here, And bury my red-sword and spear, ALICE. And thus his wild lament was poured From the searching stars of heaven he shrank- 261 Mrs. Hemans. ALICE. My breast is pressed to thine, Alice, Earth's heaven is here to thee and me, Thy cheek is warm and saft, Alice, That morning love it gie's to thee, Which kens nae guile or stain. Ilk starn in yonder lift, Alice, Filled fu' o' gladsome tears, Alice, While watching thee and me. This twilight hour the thoughts run back, Like moonlight on the streams, Till the o'erladen heart grows grit Wi' a' its early dreams! Langsyne amang the hills, Alice, Where waves the breckans green, I wander'd by the burn, Alice, While o'er me hung a vision sweet, I thought on a' the tales, Alice, And fear and hate; but love, O love! And then I thought wi' me, Alice, Who shared my soul-my every hour And when that dream was gone my heart Ay, lonely grew the world, Alice, A dreary hame to me; Or leafy sheltering tree; And aye as sough'd life's raging storm, Wi' keen and eerie blaw, My soul grew sad, and cold my heart, I wish'd to be awa.' But light came o'er my way, Alice, The daisy in my path, Alice, Unclosed its gentle e'e; Love breathed in ilka wind that blew, Wi' sunny thoughts o' summer time My dreams o' youth and love, Alice, |