THE DYING GLADIATOR. LORD BYRON. I SEE before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand; his manly brow Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not-his eyes There was their Dacian mother-he, their sire, All this rushed with his blood-Shall he expire, And unavenged?-Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire! ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. LEIGH HUNT. ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase) And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. THE SLAVE'S DREAM. H. W. LONGFELLOW. BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay, His breast was bare, his matted hair Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, Wide through the landscape of his dreams Descend the mountain road. He saw once more his dark-eyed queen They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, A tear burst from the sleeper's lids And fell into the sand. And then at furious speed he rode His bridal-reins were golden chains, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel Before him, like a blood-red flag, From morn till night he followed their flight, And the ocean rose to view. At night he heard the lion roar, And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums, The forests, with their myriad tongues, And the blast of the Desert cried aloud, That he started in his sleep, and smiled He did not feel the driver's whip, For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep, A worn-out fetter, that the soul Had broken and thrown away! ANNABEL LEE. EDGAR ALLAN POE. It was many and many a year ago, That a maiden there lived whom you may know And this maiden she lived with no other thought I was a child, and she was a child, But we loved with a love that was more than love, With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side MY CHILD. JOHN PIERPOINT. I CANNOT make him dead! Is ever bounding round my study chair; With tears, I turn to him, I walk my parlour floor, I hear a footfall on the chamber stair; To give the boy a call; And then bethink me that he is not there! I thread the crowded street; A satchelled lad I meet, With the same beaming eyes and coloured hair: |