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Cry out against them. But this very day,
An honest man, my neighbor,-there he stands,
Was struck, struck like a dog, by one who wore
The badge of Ursini*; because, forsooth,
He tossed not high his ready cap in air,
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts,
At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men,
And suffer such dishonor-Men, and wash not
The stain away in blood? Such shames are common:
I have known deeper wrongs.

3.

I, that speak to ye,

I had a brother once, a gracious boy,
Full of gentleness, of calmest hope,
Of sweet and quiet joy-there was the look
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give
'To the beloved disciple.' How I loved
That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years,
Brother at once and son! He left my side;
A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile
Parting his innocent lips.' In one short hour
The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried
For vengeance!

4.

Rouse, ye Romans!-Rouse, ye slaves!
Have ye brave sons?-Look in the next fierce brawl
To see them die. Have ye fair daughters?-Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored; and if ye dare call for justice,
Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome,
That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne
Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet, we are Romans!
Why in that elder day to be a Roman

Was greater than a king! And once again,—
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutust! once again, I swear,
The eternal city shall be free; her sons
Shall walk with princes!

*rsini, a Roman nobleman.

Lucius Junius Brutus, one who expelled the Tarquins, and abolished the regal government at Rome, B. C. 509.

Marcus Junius Brutus, one of the conspirators who assassinated Julius Cesar.

28*

LESSON CLXXV

Battle of Waterloo.*-LORD BYron.

1. THERE was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capitalt had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men :
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage-bell;

But hush! hark!—a deep sound strikes like a rising knell

2. Did ye not hear it?-No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street:
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet—
But, hark!—that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat.

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar! 3. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness: And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated-who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,

Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? 4. And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar;

* Waterloo, a town of Belgium, 12 miles south of Brussels. It is well known as the scene of one of the most important and hard fought battles in modern times, between the allied British, German, and Belgic troops, under the duke of Wellington and marshal Blucher; and the French, under Napoleon Bonaparte, June 18th, 1815. The French were totally defeated, and the hopes of Bonaparte for ever blasted.

+ Brussels, one of the most splendid cities in Europe, celebrated for its manufacture of carpets.

And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips-"The foe! They come! they come !"

5. 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 valor rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.

6. 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!

LESSON CLXXVI.

The Power of Eloquence.—CARY.

1. HEARD ye those loud contending waves,
That shook Cecropia's† pillar'd state?
Saw ye the mighty from their graves
Look up and tremble at her fate?

Who shall calm the angry storm?

Who the mighty task perform,

And bid the raging tumult cease?

See the son of Hermes rise;

With syren tongue, and speaking eyes,

Hush the noise, and sooth to peace!

Ardennes, a chain of mountains between the Meuse and Moselle rivers, in the grand-duchy of Luxemburg.

+ Athens, the ancient capital of Attica, was founded by Cecrops, 1550 years B. C., and was called Cecropia till the time of Ericthonius, when it received the name of Athens.

Demosthenes, the Grecian orator, called the son of Hermes, because Hermes, or Mercury, was the god of eloquence.

2. Lo! from the regions of the North,
The reddening storm of battle pours;
Rolls along the trembling earth,

Fastens on the Olynthian* towers.

"Where rests the sword?-where sleep the brave? Awake! Cecropia's ally save

From the fury of the blast;

Burst the storm on Phocis' walls;
Rise! or Greece forever falls,
Up! or Freedom breathes her last!"

3. The jarring States, obsequious now,
View the Patriot's hand on high;
Thunder gathering on his brow,

Lightning flashing from his eye!
Borne by the tide of words along,
One voice, one mind, inspire the throng

"To arms! to arms! to arms!" they cry,
"Grasp the shield, and draw the sword,
Lead us to Philippi's lord,†

Let us conquer him—or die !”

4. Ah! Eloquence! thou wast undɔne;
Wast from thy native country driven,
When Tyranny eclips'd the sun,

And blotted out the stars of heaven.
When liberty from Greece withdrew,
And o'er the Adriatic flew,

To where the Tiber pours his urn,
She struck the rude Tarpeiant rock;
Sparks were kindled by the shock-
Again thy fires began to burn!

5. Now shining forth, thou mad'st compliant
The Conscript Fathers to thy charms
Rous'd the world-bestriding giant,

Sinking fast in Slavery's arms!

I see thee stand by Freedom's fane,
Pouring the persuasive strain,

Olynthus was a celebrated town of Macedonia, which was destroyed by Philip, and the inhabitants sold for slaves.

+ Philip, king of Macedon.

The Tarpeian rock is a hill at Rome, about 80 feet in perpendicular height, whence condemned criminals were sometimes thrown.

Giving vast conceptions birth;
Hark! I hear thy thunder's sound,
Shake the Forum round and round-
Shake the pillars of the earth!

6 First-born of Liberty divine!

Put on Religion's bright array;
Speak and the starless grave shall shine
The portal of eternal day!

Rise, kindling with the orient beam;
Let Calvary's hill inspire the theme!

Unfold the garments roll'd in blood!
O touch the soul, touch all her chords,
With all the omnipotence of words,

And point the way to Heaven-to God.

LESSON CLXXVII.

Death of Marco Bozzaris.*—HALLECK.

1. Ar midnight, in his guarded tent,

The Turk was dreaming of the hour,
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power;

In dreams, through camp and court, he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;

In dreams his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet ring,-
Then pressed that monarch's throne-a king
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,

As Eden's garden bird.

2. An hour passed on-the Turk awoke;
That bright dream was his last;
He woke to hear his sentry's shriek,

"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!"
He woke to die midst flame and smoke,
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke,
And death shots falling thick and fast
As lightnings from the mountain cloud;
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,

Bozzaris cheer his band;

*He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Camp at Laspi, the site of the ancient Platea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were" To die for liberty is a pleasure, not a pain,"

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