And range around, and dash the glittering dew.
If some stanch hound, with his authentic voice,
Avow the recent trail, the jostling tribe
Attend his call, then with one mutual cry
The welcome news confirm, and echoing hills
Repeat the pleasing tale. See how they thread
The breaks, and up yon furrow drive along!
But quick they back recoil, and wisely check
Their eager haste; then o'er the fallowed ground
How leisurely they work, and many a pause
The harmonious concert breaks, till more assured,
With joy redoubled the low valleys ring.
What artful labyrinths' perplex their way!

Ah! there she lies; how close! she pants, she doubts
If now she lives; she trembles as she sits,
With horror seized. The withered grass that clings
Around her head, of the same russet? hue,
Almost deceived my sight, had not her eyes
With life full beaming her vain wiles betrayed.
At distance draw thy pack, let all be hushed,
No clamour loud, no frantic joy be heard,
Lest the wild hound run gadding o'er the plain
Untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice.

Now gently put her off; see how direct

To her known mews she flies! Here, huntsman, bring -But without hurry-all thy jolly hounds,

And calmly lay them in. How low they stoop,

And seem to plough the ground! then all at once

With greedy nostrils snuff the fuming steam

That glads their flutt'ring hearts. As winds let loose
From the dark caverns of the blustering god,
They burst away and sweep the dewy lawn.

Hope gives them wings, while she's spurred on by fear.
Huntsman! her gait observe; if in wide rings

5 Au-then-tic, having authority, that which may be relied on. From the Greek av@evrns (au-then-tees), one who writes or makes anything with his own hand.

6 Lab'-y-rinths, mazes, formed by walks or passages winding about in all directions. From the Greek Aaßupiveos (lab-u-rinth-os), a winding passage. 7 Rus'-set, reddish brown. From the Latin russus, red.

She wheel her mazy3 way, in the same round
Persisting still, she'll foil the beaten track:
But if she fly, and with the favouring wind
Urge her bold course, less intricate thy task,
Push on thy pack. Like some poor exiled wretch
The frightened chase leaves her late dear abodes,
O'er plains remote she stretches far away,
Ah! never to return! for greedy Death
Hovering exults, secure to seize his prey.

Hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaks Above the humble copse aspiring rise,

What glorious triumphs burst in every gale
Upon our ravished ears! The hunters shout,
The clanging horns swell their sweet winding notes,
The pack wide opening load the trembling air
With various melody; from tree to tree
The propagated cry redoubling bounds.

Look, how she pants! and o'er yon op'ning glade
Slips glancing by; while at the further end
The puzzling pack unravel wile by wile
Maze within maze. The covert's utmost bound
Slily she skirts; behind them cautious creeps,
And in that very track, so lately stained
By all the steaming_crowd, seems to pursue
The foe she flies. Let cavillers deny

That brutes have reason; sure 'tis something more:
'Tis Heaven directs, and stratagems inspires
Beyond the short extent of human thought.
But hold-I see her from the covert break;
Sad on yon little eminence she sits;
Intent she listens with one ear erect,

Pond'ring, and doubtful what new course to take,
And how to escape the fierce bloodthirsty crew,
That still urge on, and still in volleys loud
Insult her woes and mock her sore distress.

As now in louder peals, the loaded winds

8 Ma-zy, intricate, full of windings. From the Anglo-Saxon mase, a whirlpool.

9 In'-tri-cate, tangled, full of difficulties. From the Latin in, intensive, and tricor, I trick or bafile.

Bring on the gathering storm, her fears prevail;
And o'er the plain, and o'er the mountain's ridge,
Away she flies; nor ships with wind and tide,
And all their canvas wings, scud half so fast.
Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try
And each clean 10 courser's speed. We scour along
In pleasing hurry and confusion tossed;
Oblivion to be wished. The patient pack
Hang on the scent unwearied; up they climb,
And ardent we pursue; our labouring steeds
We press, we gore; till once the summit gained.
Painfully panting, there we breathe awhile;
Then like a foaming torrent, pouring down
Precipitant," we smoke along the vale.
Happy the man, who with unrivalled speed
Can pass his fellows, and with pleasure view
The struggling pack; how in the rapid course
Alternate they preside, and jostling push
To guide the dubious 12 scent; how giddy youth
Oft babbling errs, by wiser age reproved;
How, niggard of his strength, the wise old hound
Hangs in the rear, till some important point
Rouse all his diligence, or till the chase
Sinking he finds; then to the head he springs,
With thirst of glory fired, and wins the prize.
Huntsman, take heed; they stop in full career.
Yon crowding flocks, that at a distance graze,
Have haply soiled the turf. See that old hound,
How busily he works, but dares not trust
His doubtful sense; draw yet a wider ring.
Hark! now again the chorus fills; as bells
Silenced awhile at once their peals renew,
And high in air the tuneful thunder rolls.
See, how they toss, with animated rage

10 Used in the sense of unblemished, sound in wind and limb, and not in the ordinary sense of being free from dirt. Thus we say a clean cut, meaning a cut smooth and free from ragged edges.

YI Pre-cip'-i-tant, downwards in headlong rout. From the Latin præceps, headlong.

12 Du'-bi-ous, doubtful, uncertain. From the Latin dubius, from dubito, I doubt, that is, of two (duo) courses hesitate which to take.

Recovering all they lost!-That eager haste

Some doubting will foreshows- Ah! yet once more
They're checked-hold back with speed-on either hand
They flourish round-even yet persist-'Tis right,
Away they spring; the rustling stubbles bend
Beneath the driving storm. Now the poor chase
Begins to flag, to her last shifts reduced.

From brake to brake she flies, and visits all

Her well-known haunts, where once she reigned secure
With love and plenty blessed. See! there she goes,
She reels along, and by her gait betrays

Her inward weakness. See, how black she looks!
The sweat that clogs the obstructed pores, scarce leaves
A languid scent. And now in open view,
See, see, she flies; each eager hound exerts
His utmost speed, and stretches every nerve.
How quick she turns! their gaping jaws eludes,
And yet a moment lives; till round inclosed
By all the greedy pack, with infant screams
She yields her breath, and there reluctant dies.
So when the furious Bacchanals 13 assailed
Thracian Orpheus,14 poor ill-fated bard!

13 Bacchus was the god of wine, according to the old Greek and Roman mythology, and the Bacchantes or Bacchanals were priestesses of Bacchus, who celebrated rites in his honour with dishevelled hair, garlanded with ivy, and with wild dances and cries, amid the clash of different musical instruments.

14 Orpheus was a Thracian poet and musician, famed for the ravishing beauty of the strains that he drew from his lyre, that were said to be so beautiful, that even the rivers ceased to flow, and the beasts of the forest wild and tame gathered in throngs to listen to him. He married Eurydice, who was bitten in the foot by a serpent soon after marriage, and died of the wound. Harp in hand, Orpheus sought the realms of Pluto, the abidingplace of all departed souls, to entreat the gloomy lord of Hades to permit his loved Eurydice to return with him to earth. Charmed with his soulsoothing music, Pluto consented on condition that Orpheus should not look back until he had fairly reached the earth. Yearning with love he hastily made his way upwards, the pale shade of his bride following him with equal haste. The dread portals that gave access to Tartarus from the earth were in view, and a few minutes more would have seen the corpse of Eurydice reanimated by the returning soul, when Orpheus forgot the compact, and turned to gaze on her he loved so well. In the twinkling of an eye she vanished, and Orpheus returned disconsolate to earth. Shortly after, meeting on the banks of the Thracian river Hebrus a maddened band of Bacchanals, and refusing to take part in their hideous orgies, the infuriated women tore him limb from limb and threw into the Hebrus his bleeding head, which as

Loud was the cry; hills, woods, and Hebrus' banks
Returned their clamorous rage; distressed he flies,
Shifting from place to place, but flies in vain,
For eager they pursue, till panting, faint,
By noisy multitudes o'erpowered, he sinks
To the relentless crowd a bleeding prey.

THE BATTLE OF MORGARTEN.

FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS.

This poetess, whose maiden name was Browne, was born at Liverpool, September 25, 1793, but passed the early part of her life among the mountains and picturesque scenery of Wales. She was only 15 when she published her first volume of poems. Her works are numerous, but the best perhaps is her "Songs of the Affections." When only 19 she married Captain Hemans, who quitted England for Italy in 1818, and died soon after, leaving five sons dependent on their mother for support. The last years of her life were spent in Dublin, where she died, May 16, 1835. Her poems are full of tenderness and pleasing sentiment, but the majority are devoid of the spirit that is found in the following poem.

[The battle of Morgarten, a defile in the mountains on the borders of Zug and Schwyz, cantons of Switzerland, was fought between the Swiss and Austrians, November 15, 1315. The Swiss were the victors. The story of the battle itself and the events which led to it may be briefly told as follows

Switzerland, the ancient Helvetia, the cradle of the warlike race of mountaineers, that gave Julius Cæsar no little trouble in his long and tedious wars in Gaul, has been from time immemorial a country that has never showed the slightest inclination to bow in allegiance to any earthly king or kaiser. At one time the country was claimed by the emperors of Germany as archdukes of Austria; at another the turbulent dukes of Burgundy considered that it lay within the limits of their territories, but neither emperor nor duke was ever able to make good his pretensions and show his right to the soil by right of inheritance or conquest. It was a cluster of small townships, domains, and holdings, that was subdivided and grouped in knots under the it was carried down the stream to the broad Ægean Sea continued to articulate "Eurydice, Eurydice," as it had done in life.