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If thee don't kill it." “I merely said,"
But,” said he, “Ray, did thee think the mouse
WHERE ARE YOUR TREASURES ?-HORACE B. DURANT.
Wrillen expressly for this Collection.
Beneath the plain and mountain-girded breast,
In their unfathomed rest.
Untouched by eager hand their hidden store;
And seek them evermore.
Far down within its dim and sighing caves;
Saw buried in its waves !
Moans sadly on with angry tempest tossed ;
Is chanted for the lost!
Have grandest treasures in their wide domain,
That, longing, gaze in vain.
Within the mighty anthem that they sing,
Swept by angelic wing!
At best through peril, pain and ceaseless strife,
The fleeting race of life.
Beyond compare with all our earthly dreams;
Fed by immortal streams.
Beyond decay, unknown to sighs or tears,
Throughout eternal years'
CARACTACUS.-A. J. H. DUGASNE. Caractacus was a British prince, who placed himself at the head of the Silures, a people of North Wales, in a revolt against the Romans. He defeated the Ro. man geueral, Plautius, in three pitched battles; but, after a protracted struggle of pine years, was overcome by Ostorius, Roman Governor of Britain, who took captive the chieftain's wife and daughter. Caractacus took refuge with Cartis. mandua, Queen of the Brigantes; but was treacherously delivered up to Ostorius, and carried by him to Rome, where (bis fame having reached the capital) a great concourse of people attended, to witness his introduction to the Emperor Claudius. The behavior of the noblo barbarian, ou this occasion, was firm and magnaninous, as, with an erect presence, he replied to the Cæsar's questions; and the latter had the generosity to admit his defence, and, releasing him from his cbains, ordered his wife and child to be restored to him. Close your gates, O priests of Janus! close your brazen tem
ple gates! For the bold Ostorius Scapula invokes the peaceful fates ; And the brave Britannic Legion at the Arch of Triumph
waits. Bold Ostorius-home returning-for the nd war is o'er; And the wild Silurian rebels shall arise in arms no more: Captive stands their savage monarch on the Tiber's golden
shore. Crowded are the banks of Tiber, crowded is the Appian
way; And through all the Via Sacra ye may mark the dense ar
ray Of the tramping throngs who celebrate a Roman gala-day. From the joyous Campus Martins to the lonely Aventine, From the Capitolian Palace to Apollo's Tiber shrine, Hurrying onward to the Forum, sweeps the long, unbroken
line, To the Forum, where the captive, chief of Britain's savage
horde, He who smiote the host of Plautius with his fierce barbaric
swordTo the Forum, where the captive, trembling, waits the Cæ
sar's word. Caractacus! Caractacus! Oh! full many a Roman child To its mother's breast at midnight has been caught in terror
wild, When some fearful dream of Britain's chief her sleeping
sense beguiled. Thrice in battle sank our Eagles-shame that Romans lived
to tell! Thrice three years our baffled legions strove this rebel chief
to quell: Vain were all our arms against him, till by treachery he
Now, behold, he is our captive! in the market place he
stands, And around him are the lictors and the stern Prætorian
bands: Stands he like a king among them, lifting high his shao
kled hands. Sure he sees the steel-clad cohorts, sure he marks the lic
tors nigh, Yet he stands before our monarch with a glance as proudly
high As if he, in truth, were Cæsar, and 'twere Claudius that
should die. Gazes he o'er prince and people, with a glance of wondering
lightO'er the Rostra, o'er the Forum, up the Palatinian height, O'er the serried ranks of soldiers stretching far beneath his
sight. Grandly swell the crash of cymbals, blare of trump, and
roll of drum, As adown that storied market-place the veteran cohorts Then, at once, the clamorous shoutings sink into a brooding
hum. Tramping onward move the legions, tramping on with iron
tread, While Ostorius, marching vanward, proudly bends his mar
tial headProudly bends to the ovation, meed of those whom valor
led. Statue-like, in savage grandeur, stands the chief of Britain's And his bearded lip is wreathing, as with silent scorn, the
while: Bold barbarian ! dost thou mock us, mock us with that bit.
ter smile? Lo! thou standest where the Brutus sware by chaste Lucre
tia's blood; Where the Roman sire, Virginius, o'er his virgin daughter
stood; And where Narcus Curtius perished, victim for his coun.
try's good. Lo! thou standest in the Forum, where the stranger's voice
is free, Where the captive may bear witness—thus our Roman laws
decree ! “ Lift thy voice, O chief of Britons!” 'T'is the Cæsar speaks
"Lift thy voice, O wondering stranger! Thou hast marked
our Roman state: All the terrors, all the glories, that on boundless empire
wait! Boldly speak thy thought, O Briton, be it framed in love
or hate!" Thus our monarch to the stranger. Then, from off his fore
head fair, Backward with a Jove-like motion, flung the chief his gol.
den hair: And he said, “O King of Romans! freely I my thought
declare. Vanquished is my warlike nation, stricken by the Roman
sword; Lost to me my wife and children, long have I their fate de
plored; They are gone, but gloomy Hertha still enthralls their bap
less lord. “Yet I murmur not, but wonder-wonder, as in Jotna
dreams, At each strange and glittering marvel that before my vision
gleams; At the blaze of Roman glory which upon my senses streams. “Romans ! even as gods ye prosper, boundless are your gifts
and powers ! Ye have fields with grain o'erladen, gardens thick with
fruits and flowers, Halls of shining marble builded, cities strong with battling
towers. I have marked your gorgeous dwellings, and your works
of wondrous art; Bridges high in air suspended, columned shrine, and gild
ed mart, And I marveled-much I marveled-in my poor barbarian
heart. “For this day I saw your mighty gods beneath the Pantheon
dome, Gods of gold, and bronze, and silver,--and I marveled, King
of Rome, That such wealthy gods should envy me my poor, barba
rian home!” Ceased the chief, and on the pavement sadly sank his tearAnd the wondering crowds around him held their breath
in mute surprise ; Held their breath-and then, outbursting, clove the air with
sudden cries :