Sivut kuvina

3. Within a windowed niche of that high hall

Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear
That sound the first amidst the festival,

And caught its tone with death's prophetic car;
And when they smiled because he deemed it near,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,

And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.

4. 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!

5. 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!"

6. And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose,

The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills
Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes :-
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers

With the fierce native daring which instills

The stirring memory of a thousand years,

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

7. And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave,-alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valor, rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low.

8. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,

Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,

The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,
The morn the marshaling 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!




George Henry Boker was born in Philadelphia, in 1823, and graduated at Princeton College, New Jersey, in 1842. Like many American authors, he studied law, but never engaged in practice. In 1847 he published a volume entitled, The Lesson of Life, and other Poems. The following year he wrote Calaynos, a tragedy, which was brought upon the stage in London with success. His second tragedy, Anne Boleyn, appeared soon after, and was followed by several other plays, which were produced upon the stage and gave the author a wide celebrity. He has a'so published two later volumes of poems: War Lyrics, and Konigsmark, the Legend of the Hounds, and other poems. Mr. Boker was appointed Minister to Constan

tinople in 1872. The Soldier's Dirge is from his War Lyrics, and was written in memory of Gen. Phil. Kearney.

YLOSE his eyes; his work is done;

sisend or foeman,

Rise of moon, or set of sun,

Hand of man, or kiss of woman?
Lay him low, lay him low,

In the clover or the snow!

What cares he? he cannot know;
Lay him low!

2. As man may, he fought his fight,
Proved his truth by his endeavor;
Let him sleep in solemn right,
Sleep forever and forever.

Lay him low, lay him low,

In the clover or the snow!

What cares he? he cannot know;
Lay him low!

3. Fold him in his country's stars,
Roll the drum and fire the volley;
What to him are all our wars,
What but death-bemocking folly?
Lay him low, lay him low,
In the clover or the snow!
What cares he? he cannot know;
Lay him low!

4. Leave him to God's watching eye,

Trust him to the hand that made him,

Mortal love sweeps idly by

God alone has power to aid him.

Lay him low, lay him low,

In the clover or the snow!

What cares he? he cannot know;
Lay him low!




T was the calm and silent night!


Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up to might,

And now was queen of land and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars,-
Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain :
Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars

Held undisturbed their ancient reign,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.

2. 'Twas in the calm and silent night!
The senator of haughty Rome
Impatient urged his chariot's flight,
From lordly revel rolling home:
Triumphal arches gleaming swell

His breast with thoughts of boundless sway;
What recked the Roman what befell

A paltry province far away,
In the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago?

3. Within that province far away,
Went plodding home a weary boor;
A streak of light before him lay,
Fallen through a half-shut stable door
Across his path. He passed, for nought
Told what was going on within ;
How keen the stars !-his only thought,-
The air, how calm, and cold, and thin,
In the solemn midnight,

Centuries ago!

4. O strange indifference, low and high,

Drowsed over common joys and cares;
The earth was still-but knew not why!

The world was listening,-unawares.
How calm a moment may precede

One that shall thrill the world forever!
To that still moment, none would heed,
Man's doom was linked no more to sever,
In the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago!

5. It is the calm and solemn night!

A thousand bells ring out, and throw
Their joyous peals abroad, and smite

The darkness,-charmed and holy now!
The night that erst no shame had worn,
To it a happy name is given :

For in that stable lay, new born,

The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven,
In the solemn midnight,

Centuries ago.

Apollo (myth.), the son of Jupiter and Latona, distinguished in Homer as the god of archery, prophecy, and music. Pallas (myth.), an appellation given to Minerva, an ancient Italian deity, goddess of all the liberal arts and sciences. Jove (myth.) the supreme Roman deity, ruler over heaven and earth, gods and men. Mars (myth.) the Roman god of war.




Samuel Langhorne Clemens, whose well-known pseudonym is Mark Twain, was born in Monroe County, Missouri, in 1835. He began life as a printer; afterward, having worked his way over most of the Eastern States, to see the world, he returned to the West at the age of eighteen, and was for some time engaged as a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi from St. Louis to New Orleans. His brother having been appointed Secretary of Nevada Territory, Mr. Clemens went with him to that country for the sake of the trip, became fascinated with the wild life of Silverland and there remained. He began his literary career as a reporter on the Virginia City Enter

« EdellinenJatka »