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Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring, which instils
The stirring memory of a thousand years;
And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving if aught inanimate e'er grieves—
Over the unreturning brave,-alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure; when this fiery mass
Of living valour, rolling on the foe
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low !
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay;
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,
The morn the marshalling in arms, the day
Battle's magnificently stern array!
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent
The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover-heaped and pent, Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one red burial blent!
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.
THE wars for many a month were o'er,
Ere I could reach my native shed;
My friends ne'er hoped to see me more,
But wept for me as for the dead.
As I drew nigh, the cottage blazed;
The evening fire was clear and bright:
And through the window long I gazed,
And saw each friend with dear delight.
My father in his corner sat,
My mother drew her useful thread,
My brothers strove to make them chat,
My sisters baked the household bread.
And Jean oft whispered to a friend,
And still let fall a silent tear;
But soon my Jessy's grief shall end,
She little thinks her Harry's near.
What could I do? if in I went,
Surprise might chill each tender heart:
Some story then, I must invent,
And act the poor maimed soldier's part.
I drew a bandage o'er my face,
And crooked up a lying knee,
And found that e'en in that best place,
Not one dear friend knew aught of me.
I ventured in-Tray wagged his tail,
And fawned-and to my mother ran :
"Come here," they cried; "what can he ail?"
While my feigned story I began.
I changed my voice to that of age,
"A poor old soldier lodgings craves :
The very name their loves engage;
"A soldier! aye, the best we have."
My father then drew in a seat,
"You're welcome," with a sigh he said ;
My mother fried her best hung meat,
And curds and cheese the table spread.
"I had a son”, my father sighed,
"A soldier too, but he is gone !"
"Have you heard from him? I replied;
"I left behind me many a one :
"And many a message
"To families I cannot find;
Long for John Goodman's have I sought,
To tell them Hal's not far behind."
My mother saw her catching sigh,
And hid her face behind the rock;
While tears swam round in all their eyes,
And not a single word was spoke.
"O! does he live ?" my father cried ;
My mother did not stay to speak;
My Jessy now I silent eyed,
Who throbbed as if her heart would break.
"He lives indeed! this kerchief see,
"At parting his dear Jessy gave; "He sent it far, with love by me,
"To shew he still escapes the grave."
An arrow, darting from a bow,
Could not more quick the token reach :
The patch from off my face I drew,
And gave my voice its well known speech.
"My Jessy dear!" I softly said:
She gazed and answered with a sigh :
My sisters looked as half afraid;
My mother fainted quite for joy.
My father danced around his son;
My brothers shook my hand away;
My mother said, her glass might run,
She cared not now how soon that day.
"Hoot woman!" cried my father dear,
"A wedding first I'm sure we'll have:
"I warrant we'll live a hundred year-
"Nay, may be lass, escape the grave!"
FAIR Freedom has a thousand charms to show,
That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
The Mind attains beneath her happy reign
The growth that Nature meant she should attain ;
The varied fields of science, ever new,
Opening and wider opening on her view,
She ventures onward with a prosperous force,
While no base fear impedes her in her course :
Religion, richest favour of the skies,
Stands most revealed before the freeman's eyes;
No shades of superstition blot the day,
Liberty chases all that gloom away.
The soul, emancipated, unoppressed,
Free to prove all things and hold fast the best,
Learns much; and to a thousand listening minds
Communicates with joy the good she finds;
Courage in arms, and ever prompt to show
His manly forehead to the fiercest foe;
Glorious in war, but for the sake of peace,
His spirits rising as his toils increase,
Guards well what arts and industry have won,
And Freedom claims him for her first-born son.
Slaves fight for what were better cast away-
The chain that binds them, and a tyrant's sway;
But they that fight for freedom, undertake
The noblest cause mankind can have at stake:-
Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call
A blessing-freedom is the pledge of all.
O Liberty! the prisoner's pleasing dream,
The poet's muse, his passion, and his theme;
Genius is thine, and thou art Fancy's nurse;
Lost without thee the ennobling powers of verse;
Heroic song from thy free touch acquires
Its clearest tone, the rapture it inspires.
Place me where Winter breathes his keenest air, And I will sing, if Liberty be there;
And I will sing at Liberty's dear feet,
In Afric's torrid clime, or India's fiercest heat.
THE CITY AND COUNTRY MOUSE. ONCE on a time (so runs the fable) A country mouse, right hospitable, Received a town mouse at his board, Just as a farmer might a lord. A frugal mouse, upon the whole, Yet loved his friend, and had a soul: Knew what was handsome, and would do't, On just occasion, "coûte qui coûte1." He brought him bacon, (nothing lean); Pudding that might have pleased a dean; Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make, But wished it Stilton for his sake; Yet, to his guest though no ways sparing, He ate himself the rind and paring, Our courtier scarce could touch a bit, But showed his breeding and his wit; He did his best to seem to eat,
And cried "I vow you're mighty neat :
"But, my dear friend, this savage scene!
"I pray you, come and live with men :
"Consider, mice, like men, must die,
"Both small and great, both you and I;
"Then spend your life in joy and sport;
"(This doctrine, friend, I learned at court.)"
The veriest hermit in the nation
May yield, you know, to strong temptation.
Away they came, through thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's-inn:
('Twas on the night of a debate,
When all their lordships had sat late.)
I coûte qui coûte; cost what it may.