Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Ro

man.

Dec. What is a Roman that is Cæsar's foe?

Cato. Greater than Cæsar: he's a friend to virtue.

Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica, And at the head of your own little senate; You don't now thunder in the Capitol, With all the mouths of Rome to second

you.

Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us

hither.

'Tis Cæsar's sword has made Rome's senate little, And thinned its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false glaring light,

Which conquest and success have thrown upon

him;

Did'st thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black

With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes
That strike my soul with horror but to name

'em.

I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch Beset with ills, and covered with misfortunes; But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds Should never buy me to be like that Cæsar.

Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to

Cæsar,

For all his gen'rous cares, and proffered friendship?

Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain; Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato. Would Cæsar show the greatness of his soul,

Bid him employ his care for these my friends,
And make good use of his ill-gotten power,
By shelt'ring men much better than himself.
Dec. Your high unconquered heart makes you
forget

You are a man.

But I have done.

You rush on your destruction.

When I relate hereafter

The tale of this unhappy embassy,

All Rome will be in tears.

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

Addison.

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 rose 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!

Did ye not hear it?-No, 'twas but the wind,
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 feet-
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 evermore 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 !"

Last noon beheld them full
Last eve in beauty's circle.
The midnight brought the si

The morn the marshalling in arms—the day Battle's magnificently stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which, when rent,

The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and

pent,

Rider and horse-friend, foe-in one red burial

blent!

Byron.

THE BRIDAL OF MALAHIDE.

THE joy-bells are ringing in gay Malahide,
The fresh wind is singing along the sea-side;
The maids are assembling with garlands of flow-

ers,

And the harp-strings are trembling in all the glad bowers.

Swell, swell the gay measure! roll trumpet and drum!

'Mid greetings of pleasure in splendor they come!

The chancel is ready, the portal stands wide, For the lord and the lady, the bridegroom and bride.

Before the high altar young Maud stands ar

rayed!

With accents the

rom father an

for him and no

er promise is made

>rever to part,

reasure her heart.

The words are repeated, the bridal is done,
The rite is completed-the two, they are one ;
The vow, it is spoken all pure from the heart,
That must not be broken till life shall depart.

Hark! 'mid the gay clangor that compassed their

car,

Loud accents in anger come mingling afar!

The foe's on the border! his weapons resound Where the lines in disorder unguarded are found!

As wakes the good shepherd, the watchful and bold,

When the ounce or the leopard is seen in the fold,

So rises already the chief in his mail,

While the new-married lady looks fainting and pale.

"Son, husband, and brother, arise to the strife, For sister and mother, for children and wife! O'er hill and o'er hollow, o'er mountain and plain,

Up, true men, and follow! let dastards remain !"

Farrah! to the battle! They form into line— The shields, how they rattle! the spears, how they shine!

Soon, soon shall the foeman his treachery rue—
On, burgher and yeoman! to die or to do!

The eve is declining in lone Malahide
The maidens are twining gay wreat