REPORT ON AN ADJUDGED CASE. BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest | Again: would your lordship a moment arose [wrong; The spectacles set them, unhappily, The point in dispute was, as all the world knows, To which the said spectacles ought to belong. suppose ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again) [nose; That the visage or countenance had not a Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then? so Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the On the whole it appears, and my argu cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning; ment shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn, While chief baron Ear sat to balance the That the spectacles plainly were made for laws, the Nose, THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. A FORWARD hare, of swiftness vain, He'd boast his flight 'twere vain to follow, "Twas "done," and done all fair, a "bet,” And scarce had passed a single pole When puss had almost reached the goal. "Friend tortoise," quoth the jeering hare, Your burden's more than you can bear; I'll take a nap, and then be with thee." 66 LLOYD. THE DIRGE OF WALLACE. THEY lighted a taper, at the dead of night, And chanted their holiest hymn; But her brow and her bosom were damp with affright, Her eye was all sleepless and dim! And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord, room, When his dungeon-light looked dim and red slain; No anthem was sung at his holy death-bed, When a death-watch beat in her lonely Oh! it was not thus when his oaken spear When her curtain had shook of its own And the raven had flapped at her windowboard, To tell of her warrior's doom! "Now sing you the death-song, and loudly For the soul of my knight so dear, The lord of my bosom is doomed to His valorous heart they have wounded deep; And the blood-red tears shall his country weep For Wallace of Elderslie! Yet knew not his country that ominous hour, Ere the loud matin-bell was rung, That a trumpet of death, on an English tower, Had the dirge of her champion sung! At the blast of the hunter's horn: When he strode on the wreck of each wellfought field, With the yellow-haired chiefs of his native land; For his lance was not shivered on helmet or shield, And the sword that seemed fit for archangel to wield Was light in his terrible hand! Yet bleeding and bound, though her Wal- For his long-loved country die, But the day of his glory shall never de- His head unentombed shall with glory be balmed, From his blood-streaming altar his spirit shall start; Though the raven has fed on his mouldering heart, A nobler was never embalmed! CAMPBELL. He prayed but for a simple draught Of water from the well, And a poor morsel of the food That from his table fell. He said that his old frame had toiled O'er the sunny vales and savage hills And through the lakes that day; Yet when he saw they scoffed his words, He turned away in woe, And cursed them not, but only mourned When many years had flown away, The wolf and bear to kill; To scatter the red deer, and slay And chase the rapid moose that ranged And soon his hounds lay dead with toil, The deer were fierce and fleet, And the prairie tigers kept aloof When they heard his hostile feet; No bread was in that desert place, Nor crystal rivulet, To slake the torment of his thirst, He feared-he feared to die--yet knew But lo! while life's dim taper still A ministering angel came- He shared his wheaten loaf with him, And bore the sick man unto those THE DEATH OF HOFER. So through the files of musketeers And stood within the hollow square. And proudly think on by-gone years! Thank God! had never braved the blast They bade him kneel; but he with all 'I kneel alone to God on high-- As oft I fought so let me fall! Farewell"-his breast a moment swoll With agony he strove to hide"My Kaiser and Tyrol !" No more emotion he betrayed. To Francis and the faithful men THE ARAB'S FAREWELL TO HIS STEED. My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest | Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel meekly by, hand may chide, With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, and dark and fiery eye; along thy panting side: Fret not to roam the desert now with all And the rich blood that is in thee swells in thy winged speed, I may not mount on thee again,-thou'rt sold, my Arab steed! thy indignant pain, Till careless eyes which rest on thee may count each started vein. Fret not with that impatient hoof-snuff Will they ill-use thee? If I thought-but not the breezy wind; The further that thou fliest now, so far am no, it cannot be; Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed; so gentle, yet so free: The stranger hath thy bridle rein-thy And yet if haply, when thou'rt gone, my master hath his gold Fleet limbed and beautiful, farewell! thou'rt sold, my steed-thou'rt sold! lonely heart should yearn, Can the hand which casts thee from it now command thee to return? Farewell! those free untired limbs full Return! alas, my Arab steed! what shall many a mile must roam, thy master do, To reach the chill and wintry sky which When thou who wert his all of joy hast clouds the stranger's home; vanished from his view? Some other hand, less fond, must now thy When the dim distance cheats mine eye, corn and bread prepare; and through the gathering tears The silky mane I braided once must be Thy bright form for a moment like the another's care! false mirage appears? The morning sun shall dawn again, but Slow and unmounted will I roam, with never more with thee weary foot alone, Shall I gallop through the desert paths, Where with fleet step and joyous bound where we were wont to be: thou oft hast borne me on; Evening shall darken on the earth; and And sitting down by the green well, I'll o'er the sandy plain Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again. pause, and sadly think, It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink!" Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, When last I saw thee drink!—away! the the brilliant sun and sky, fevered dream is o'er; Thy master's home-from all of these my I could not live a day and know that we exiled one must fly: should meet no more. Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunthy step become less fleet, ger's power is strong And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck thy They tempted me, my beautiful! but I master's hand to meet. Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright, Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light; have loved too long. Who said that I had given thee up? Who said that thou wert sold? 'Tis false !-'tis false, my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold! And when I raise my dreaming arm to Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back, and check or cheer thy speed, Then must I starting wake, to feel-thou'rt sold, my Arab steed. scour the distant plains; Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains! HON. MRS. NORTON. THE LIFE-BOAT. MAN the life-boat! man the life-boat!- See the ark of refuge launching; See her hardy crew prepare O'er the billow's feathery height; Who controls the raging storm. With her precious cargo freighted, Now the life-boat nears the shore; Parents, brethren, friends embracing Those they thought to see no more. Blessings on the dauntless spirits, Dangers thus who nobly brave; Ready life and limb to venture, So they may a brother save. Christian! pause, and deeply ponder: Is there nothing you can do? The sinking ship, the storm, the life-boat, Have they not a voice for you? Here's a storm, a fearful tempest, Souls are sinking in despair; There's a shore of blessed refugeTry, O try and guide them there. O remember Him who saved you, Whose right hand deliverance wrought; Who from depths of guilt and anguish You to peace and safety brought. With moral discourses cut shorter the Does he feed upon flesh when there's herway: bage and roots?" 66 "Tis great," says the fox, "to make jus- Cries the fox, "While our oaks give us tice our guide!" How god-like is mercy!" Grimalkin replied. acorns so good, What a tyrant is this, to spill innocent blood!" chaff by a mill. Whilst thus they proceeded, a wolf from Well, onward they marched, and they the wood, moralized still, Impatient of hunger, and thirsting for Till they came where some poultry picked blood, [eyes, Rushed forth-as he saw the dull shepherd Sly Reynard surveyed them with gluttonous asleepAnd made, spite of morals, a pullet his prize! And seized for his supper an innocent A mouse, too, that chanced from her covert sheep. "In vain, wretched victim, for mercy you bleat; When mutton's at hand," says the wolf, "I must eat." Grimalkin's astonished the fox stood aghast, To see the fell beast at his bloody repast. to stray, The greedy Grimalkin secured as her prey! A spider that sat in her web on the wall, Perceived the poor victims, and pitied their fall: She cried, "Of such murders how guiltless am I!" So ran to regale on a new-taken fly! |