The midnight—brought the signal-sound of strife; the day— The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover-heap'd and pent, Rider and horse,—friend, foe,-in one red burial blent! 85. FRIENDS. LORD BYRON. FRIE RIEND after friend departs; Beyond this vale of death, There is a world above, Where parting is unknown, Form'd for the good alone; Thus star by star declines, As morning high and higher shines, Nor sink those stars in empty night; They hide themselves in heaven's own light. JAMES MONTGOMERY. BE 86. SCHOOL DAYS. [From TIROCINIUM.] E it a weakness, it deserves some praise,We love the play-place of our early days; The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, The very name we carved subsisting still; The bench on which we sat while deep employed, Though mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, not yet destroy'd; The little ones, unbutton'd, glowing hot, Playing our games, and on the very spot, As happy as we once, to kneel and draw The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw, To pitch the ball into the grounded hat, Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat; The pleasing spectacle at once excites Such recollection of our own delights, That, viewing it, we seem almost t' obtain Our innocent, sweet, simple years again. This fond attachment to the well-known place, Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, COWPER. 87. THE DEATH OF VIRGINIA. [From LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.] TRAIGHTWAY Virginius led the maid a little space aside, To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with horn and hide, Close to yon low, dark archway, where, in a crimson flood, Oh! how I loved my darling! Though stern I sometimes be, Now all these things are over-yes, all thy pretty ways, ! He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portions of the slave; Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and blow,— Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou shalt never know! Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss ; And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way but thisWith that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died. LORD MACAULAY 88. THE HOUR OF PRAYER. HILD, amidst the flowers at play, Mother, with thy earnest eye, Father, by the breeze of eve, Traveller, in the stranger's land, Warrior, that from battle won, Woman, o'er the lowly slain, MRS. HEMANS. 89. YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. YE mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze; Your glorious standard launch again And sweep through the deep The spirits of your fathers |