from his curly locks, shall with his lily fingers pat your red brawn, and bet his sesterces upon your blood. Hark! hear ye yon lion roaring in his den? "Tis three days since he has tasted flesh; but to-morrow he shall break his fast upon yours, and a dainty meal for him ye will be!

If ye are beasts, then stand here like fat oxen, waiting for the butcher's knife! If ye are men, follow me! Strike down yon guard, gain the mountain passes, and then do bloody work, as did your sires at old Thermopyla! Is Sparta dead? Is the old Grecian spirit frozen in your veins, that you do crouch and cower like a belaboured hound beneath his master's lash? O, comrades! warriors! Thracians! if we must fight, let us fight for ourselves! If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors! If we must die, let it be under the clear sky, by the bright waters, in noble, honourable battle!

MARMION AND DOUGLAS.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

THE train from out the castle drew,
But Marmion stopp'd to bid adieu :

"Though something I might plain," he said,
"Of cold respect to stranger guest,

Sent hither by your king's behest,

While in Tantallon's towers I stay'd,
Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble Earl, receive my hand."

But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke :
"My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
Be open, at my sovereign's will,

To each one whom he lists, howe'er

Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
My castles are my king's alone
From turret to foundation-stone;
The hand of Douglas is his own,
And never shall in friendly grasp
The hand of such as Marmion clasp."

Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,

And, "This to me!" he said;

"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!

And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer,
He who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her State,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate:
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride,

Here in thy hold, thy vassals near,
(Nay, never look upon your lord,
And lay your hands upon your sword,)
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!

And, if thou said'st I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"

On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age;

Fierce he broke forth, "And darest thou then

To beard the lion in his den,

The Douglas in his hall?

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?

No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!

Up drawbridge, grooms, — what, Warder, ho!

Let the portcullis fall.”

Lord Marmion turn'd, well was his need!
And dash'd the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the archway sprung;
The ponderous gate behind him rung :
To pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed his plume.

The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Not lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim ;

And, when Lord Marmion reach'd his band,
He halts, and turns with clenchèd hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,

And shook his gauntlet at the towers.

THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY.

GEORGE W. PATTEN.

BLAZE, with your serried columns !
I will not bend the knee !
The shackles ne'er again shall bind
The arm which now is free.

I've mail'd it with the thunder,

When the tempest mutter'd low; And, where it falls, ye well may dread The lightning of its blow!

I've scared ye in the city,

I've scalp'd ye on the plain;

Go, count your chosen, where they fell

Beneath my leaden rain!

I scorn your proffer'd treaty!

The pale-face I defy!

Revenge is stamp'd upon my spear,

And blood's my battle cry!

Some strike for hope of booty,

Some to defend their all;
I battle for the joy I have
To see the white man fall:
I love, among the wounded,
To hear his dying moan,

And catch, while chanting at his side,
The music of his groan.

Ye've trail'd me through the forest,
Ye've track'd me o'er the stream;
And, struggling through the everglade,
Your bristling bayonets gleam ;
But I stand as should the warrior,
With his rifle and his spear;
The scalp of vengeance still is red,
And warns ye, - Come not here!

I loathe ye in my bosom,

I scorn ye with mine eye,

And I'll taunt ye with my latest breath,
And fight ye till I die!

I ne'er will ask ye quarter,

And I ne'er will be your slave;
But I'll swim the sea of slaughter,
Till I sink beneath its wave!

HORRORS OF SAVAGE WARFARE.

WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.

I AM astonished, shocked, to hear such principles confessed, to hear them avowed in this House, or even in this country! principles equally unconstitutional, inhuman, and unchristian!

My Lords, I did not intend to trespass again upon your attention, but I cannot repress my indignation,

I feel myself impelled by every duty. We are called upon as members of this House, as men, as Christian men, to protest against such notions, standing near the throne, polluting the ear of Majesty. "That God and Nature put into our hands!"* I know not what ideas that Lord may entertain of God and Nature; but I know that such abominable principles are equally ab horrent to religion and humanity.

What! attribute the sacred sanction of God and Nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife, -to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, roasting, and eating, — literally, my Lords, eating the mangled victims of his barbarous battles! Such horrible notions shock every precept of religion revealed or natural, and every generous feeling of humanity; and, my Lords, they shock every sentiment of honour, they shock me as a lover of honourable war, and a detester of murderous barbarity.

These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indig nation. I call upon the Right-Reverend Bench, those holy ministers of the Gospel, and pious pastors of our Church, — I conjure them to join in the holy work, and to vindicate the religion of their God. I appeal to the wisdom and the law of this Learned Bench to defend and support the justice of their country. I call upon the Bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn, upon the learned Judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honour of your Lordships to reverence the

**Lord Suffolk, one of the Secretaries of State, defending the employment of Indians in the American war, had declared, in the House of Lords, that "it was perfectly justifiable to use all the means that God and Nature put into our hands."