And swiftly forming in the ranks of And burning with high hope, shall moulder

Partly because they blend me with his line,
And partly that I did his sire some wrong,
And partly that bright names will hallow
song,

Those whom they thirst for; though the
sound of Fame

May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake
The fever of vain longing, and the name

And his was of the bravest; and when So honored but assumes a stronger, bitterer

showered

The death-bolts deadliest the thinned files

along,

Even where the thickest of war's tempest

lowered,

claim.

MAN.

LORD BYRON.

They reached no nobler breast than thine, OMAN, thy fabric's like a well-formed

young, gallant Howard.

state:

Thy thoughts, first ranked, were sure de

signed the great ;

There have been tears and breaking hearts Passions plebeians are which faction raise;

for thee,

And mine were nothing, had I such to give;

Wine, like poured oil, excites the raging

blaze;

Then giddy anarchy's rude triumphs rise;

But when I stood beneath the fresh green Then sovereign Reason from her empire flies;

tree

Which living waves where thou didst cease to live,

That ruler once deposed, wisdom and wit To noise and folly place and power submit; Like a frail bark thy weakened mind is tost, And saw around me the wide field re- Unsteered, unbalanced, till its wealth is lost.

vive

With fruits and fertile promise, and the The miser-spirit eyes the spendthrift heir,

For this, he griped the poor and alms denied,

I turned to thee, to thousands, of whom Unfriended lived and unlamented died.

66

THE LORD OF BUTRAGO.

FROM THE SPANISH.

OUR horse is faint, my king,
my lord-your gallant
horse is sick;

His limbs are torn, his breast
is gored, on his eye the

film is thick:

Mount, mount on mine, oh

mount apace, I

pray

thee-mount and fly,

And say, 'There's one that ran away when our good lords were slain.'

Or in my arms I'll lift Your I leave Diego in your care: you'll fill his

Grace their trampling hoofs are nigh.

My king, my king, you're wounded sore: the blood runs from your feet:

But only lay a hand before, and I'll lift you

to your seat.

Mount, Juan, for they gather fast; I hear

their coming cry.

Mount, mount, and ride for jeopardy: I'll save you though I die.

"Stand, noble steed! This hour of need be gentle as a lamb;

I'll kiss the foam from off thy mouth: thy master dear I am.

father's place;

Strike, strike the spur, and never spare!
God's blessing on Your Grace!"

So spake the brave Montañez: Butrago's lord
was he;

And turned him to the coming host in steadfastness and glee;

He flung himself among them as they came

down the hill:

He died, God wot! but not before his sword had drunk its fill.

Mount, Juan, mount! whate'er betide, away IT

the bridle fling,

Translation of JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART,

IMMORTALITY.

T must be so! Plato, thou reasonest well!

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,

This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread and inward horror

Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul

Back on herself and startles at destruction?