He listen'd-and his heart beat high : The rapture of a conqueror's mood Its torrents could not tame; Though stillness lay, with eve's last smile, Night came with stars. Across his soul Breathed from the thought, so swift to fall No more than this! What seem'd it now First by that spring to stand? * A remarkable description of feelings thus fluctuating from triumph to despondency, is given in Bruce's Abyssinian Travels. The buoyant exultation of his spirits on arriving at the source of the Nile, was almost immediately succeeded by a gloom, which he thus portrays:-" I was, at that very moment, in possession of what had for many years been the principal object of my ambition and wishes; indifference, which, from the usual infirmity of human nature, follows, at least for a time, complete enjoyment, had taken place of it. The marsh and the fountains of the Nile, upon comparison with the rise of many of our rivers, became now a trifling object in my sight. I remembered that magnificent scene in my own native country, where the Tweed, Clyde, and Annan, rise in one hill. I began, in my sorrow, to treat the inquiry about the source of the Nile as a violent effort of a distempered fancy." A thousand streams of lovelier flow Bathed his own mountain-land! Whence, far o'er waste and ocean track, Their wild, sweet voices, call'd him back. They call'd him back to many a glade, Where brightly through the beechen shade They call'd him, with their sounding waves, Back to his father's hills and graves. But, darkly mingling with the thought Of each familiar scene, Rose up a fearful vision, fraught With all that lay between The Arab's lance, the desert's gloom, Where was the glow of power and pride? His alter'd heart within him died He wept ! The stars of Afric's heaven E'en on that spot where fate had given O Happiness! how far we flee Thine own sweet paths in search of thee! * CASABIANCA.* THE boy stood on the burning deck The flame that lit the battle's wreck Yet beautiful and bright he stood, A proud, though child-like form. The flames roll'd on-he would not go He call'd aloud :-" Say, father, say He knew not that the chieftain lay "Speak, father!" once again he cried, And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames roll'd on. Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the Admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the Battle of the Nile) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And look'd from that lone post of death And shouted but once more aloud, 66 My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, And stream'd above the gallant child There came a burst of thunder-sound— With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, THE DIAL OF FLOWERS.* 'Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours By the opening and the folding flowers, Thus had each moment its own rich hue, In whose colour'd vase might sleep the dew, To such sweet signs might the time have flow'd Ere from the garden, man's first abode, The glorious guests were gone. So might the days have been brightly told— So in those isles of delight, that rest This dial was, I believe, formed by Linnæus, and marked the hours by the opening and closing, at regular intervals, of the flowers arranged in it. |