For not by night awaits A noble foe without the gates. Toll! Roland, toll! Thy sound is not too soon! To Arms! Ring out the Leader's call! Till every hero's breast Shall swell beneath a soldier's crest! Toll! Roland, toll! Till cottager from cottage-wall Snatch pouch and powder-horn and gun! The heritage of sire to son Ere half of Freedom's work was done! Till swords froin scabbards leap! Toll! Roland, toll! What tears can widows weep Less bitter than when brave men fall! Toll! Roland, toll! In shadowed hut and hall Shall lie the soldier's pall, And hearts shall break while graves are filled! Amen! So God hath willed! And may His grace anoint us all! Toll! Roland, toll! The Dragon on thy tower Stands sentry to this hour, And Freedom now is safe in Ghent! And in the land's serene content, So let it be! A kingly king is he Who keeps his people free! Toll! Roland, toll! Ring out across the sea! No longer They but We Have now such need of thee! Toll! Roland, toll! Nor ever let thy throat Keep dumb its warning note Till Freedom's flag, wherever waved, Toll! Roland, toll! From Northern lake to Southern strand! Till friend and foe, at thy command, Shall clasp once more each other's hand, And shout, one-voiced, "God save the land!" Toll! Roland, tolll Theodore Tilton. The Young Gray Head. I'm thinking that to-night, if not before, There'll be wild work. Dost hear old Chewton roar? It's brewing up, down westward; and look there! And such a sudden thaw! If rain comes on As threats, the water will be out anon. Best let the young ones bide from school to-day. The children join in this request; but the mother resolves that they shall set out the two girls, Lizzie and Jenny, the one five, the other seven. As the dame's will was law, 80 — One last fond kiss "God bless my little maids," the father said, And cheerily went his way to win their bread. Prepared for their journey they depart, with the mother's admo nition to the elder 1 "Now, mind and bring Jenny safe home," the mother said. "Don't stay To pull a bough or berry by the way; "Be sure," said she, "To wrap it round, and knot it carefully, (Like this) when you come home—just leaving free One hand to hold by. Now, make haste away Good will to school and then good right to play." The mother watches them with foreboding, though she knows not why. In a little while the threatened storm sets in. Night comes, and with it comes the father from his daily toil - There's a treasure hidden in his hat A plaything for his young ones, he has found A dormouse nest; the living ball coil'd round For its long winter sleep; all his thought As he trudged stoutly homeward, was of naught And graver Lizzie's quieter surprise, When he should yield, by guess and kiss and prayer, Hard won, the frozen captive to their care. No little faces greet him as wont at the threshold; and to his hurried question "Are they come?"-t'was "no," To throw his tools down, hastily unhook The old crack'd lantern from its dusty nook And, while he lit it, speak a cheering word That almost choked him, and was scarcely heard,— Was but a moment's act, and he was gone To where a fearful foresight led him on. A neighbor goes with him, and the faithful dog follows the children's tracks. "Hold the light Low down, he's making for the water. Hark! I know that whine; the old dog's found them, Mark;' Toward the old crazy foot bridge. It was gone! And all his dull contracted light could show Was the black, void, and dark swollen stream below; " "Yet there's life somewhere-more than Tinker's whine That's sure," said Mark. "So, let the lantern shine Down yonder. There's the dog- and hark!” "O dear!" And a low sob come faintly on the ear, Mocked by the sobbing gust. Down quick as thought, "My babes! my lambkins!" was the father's cry, 'Twas Lizzy's. There she crouched with face as white, More ghastly, by the flickering lantern light, Than sheeted corpse. The pale blue lips drawn tight, They lifted her from out her watery bed Its covering gone, the lovely little head Hung like a broken snowdrop all aside, And one small hand. The mother's shawl was tied Affording to the scrag, by a thick fold That caught and pinned her to the river's bed. "She might have lived, Struggling like Lizzy," was the thought that rived The wretched mother's heart when she heard all, "But for my foolishness about that shawl.” "Who says I forgot? Mother! indeed, indeed I kept fast hold, And tied the shawl quite close-she Can't be cold But she won't move- we slept-I don't know how But I held on, and I'm so weary now— And its so dark and cold! Oh dear! oh dear! And she won't move-if father were but here !" With now and then the murmur "She won't move," The young head's raven hair was streaked with white! Mrs. Southey. The Suliote Mother. She stood upon the loftiest peak, A bitter smile was on her cheek, "Dost thou see them, boy?—through the dusky pines? Wouldst thou spring from my mother's arms with joy? |