Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, 66 Speak not to me of shrift or prayer! I must redress her woes. Short space, few words, are mine to spare; "Alas!" she said, "the while, In torrents from his wounded side. "Then it was truth!" he said-"I knew That the dark presage must be true. It may not be! - this dizzy trance- With fruitless labor, Clara bound A lady's voice was in his ear; And that the priest he could not hear, For that she ever sung, "In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying!" So the notes rung; "Avoid thee, Fiend! - with cruel hand, Shake not the dying sinner's sand! O look, my son, upon yon sign The war, that for a space did fail, A light on Marmion's visage spread, Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!" By this, though deep the evening fell, That to King Charles did come, When Rowland brave, and Oliver, On Roncesvalles died! Such blast might warn them, not in vain, To quit the plunder of the slain, While yet on Flodden side, Afar, the Royal Standard flies, And round it toils and bleeds and dies, In vain the wish- for far away, Of Tilmouth upon Tweed. There all the night they spent in prayer, But as they left the darkening heath, That fought around their king. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, Unbroken was the ring; The stubborn spearmen still made good Each stepping where his comrade stood, No thought was there of dastard flight; Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, Till utter darkness closed her wing As mountain waves, from wasted lands, Then did their loss his foemen know; Their king, their lords, their mightiest low, They melted from the field as snow, When streams are swoln, and south winds blow, Dissolves in silent dew. Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, While many a broken band, Disordered, through her currents dash, To gain the Scottish land; To town and tower, to down and dale, Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear, LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS WHEN HE WAS SICK. BY WILLIAM DUNBAR. [Born 145-; perhaps died with James IV. at Flodden in 1513.] 1 Poets. Sorrowful. I THAT in heill was and gladness Am troublit now with great sickness, Timor Mortis conturbat me.3 Our pleasance here is all vainglory, The state of man does change and vary, No state in Earth here standis sicker;" Timor Mortis conturbat me. Unto the Dead goes all Estatis, He takes the Knightis in to field, Timor Mortis conturbat me. Since for the Dead remede is none, 2 Health. 6 Secure. VOL. XI.-17 8 8 The fear of Death disturbeth me. 7 Osier. 8 Death. 4 Brittle. • Prepare. UTOPIA AND ITS CUSTOMS. BY SIR THOMAS MORE. [SIR THOMAS MORE, English statesman and scholar, was born in London, February 7, 1478; son of Sir John More, justice of the King's Bench. He was placed as a page in the household of Archbishop Morton, who sent him to Oxford. Having completed his legal studies in London, he obtained the appointment of under-sheriff of London, and was elected a member of Parliament during the last years of Henry VII.; and in the reign of Henry VIII. became a knight, treasurer of the exchequer, speaker of the House of Commons, and, on the fall of Wolsey, lord chancellor. He resigned the seals in 1532 rather than sanction the divorce of Queen Catherine, and two years later was committed to the Tower for refusing to swear allegiance to the "Act of Succession." After a year's imprisonment, he was tried for high treason, and beheaded in the Tower, July 6, 1535. More's masterpiece is his "Utopia" (published in Latin, 1516; in English, 1551), an account of an imaginary commonwealth in a distant island of the Atlantic. He also wrote a "History of Richard III." in English, and a number of Latin dissertations, letters, etc.] THE island of Utopia is in the middle two hundred miles broad, and holds almost at the same breadth over a great part of it; but it grows narrower toward both ends. Its figure is not unlike a crescent: between its horns the sea comes in eleven miles broad, and spreads itself into a great bay, which is environed with land to the compass of about five hundred miles, and is well secured from winds. In this bay there is no great current. The whole coast is, as it were, one continued harbor, which gives all that live in the island great convenience for mutual commerce. On the other side of the island there are likewise many harbors; and the coast is so fortified, both by nature and art, that a small number of men can hinder the descent of a great army. But they report (and there remain good marks of it to make it credible) that this was no island at first, but a part of the continent. Utopus, that conquered it (whose name it still carries, for Abraxa was its first name), brought the rude and uncivilized inhabitants into such a good government, and to that measure of politeness, that they now far excel all the rest of mankind; having soon subdued them, he designed to separate them from the continent, and to bring the sea quite round them. To accomplish this, he ordered a deep channel to be dug fifteen miles long; and that the natives might not think he treated them like slaves, he not only forced the inhabitants, but also his own soldiers, to labor in carrying it on. As he set a vast number of |