And one eye's black intelligence, ever that glance
O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance !
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on.

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, “ Stay spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
We'll remember at Aix” for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Loos and past Tongrés, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And “gallop,” gasped Joris, “ for Aix is in sight!”

“ How they 'll greet us!”

and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer,
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

And all I remember is friends flocking round
As I sate with bis head 'twixt my knees on the ground,
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which, (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent

R. Rrowning.

OXOLX.

THE SWORD.

'T

WAS on the battle-field ; and the cold pale moon

Looked down on the dead and dying ;
And the wind passed o'er with a dirge and a wail,

Where the young and brave were lying.

With his father's sword in his red right hand,

And the hostile dead around him,
Lay a youthful chief; but his bed was the ground,

And the grave's icy sleep had bound him.

A reckless rover, ʼmid death and doom,

Passed a soldier, his plunder seeking; Careless he stepped where friend and foe

Lay alike in their life-blood reeking.

Drawn by the shine of the warrior's sword,

The soldier paused beside it ;
He wrenched the hand with a giant's strength,

But the grasp of the dead defied it.

He loosed his hold, and his noble heart

Took part with the dead before him ;
And he honored the brave who died sword in hand,

As with softened brow he leaned o'er him.

“A soldier's death thou hast boldly died,

A soldier's grave won by it:
Before I would take that sword from thine hand,

My own life's blood should dye it.

“ Thou shalt not be left for the carrion crow,

Or the wolf to batten o'er thee;
Or the coward insult the gallant dead,

Who in life had trembled before thee.”

Then dug he a grave in the crimson earth,

Where his warrior foe was sleeping;
And he laid him there, in honor and rest,
With his sword in his own brave keeping.

Miss Landon

00.

THE FIREMAN.

HOARSE wintry blasts a solemn requiem sung

To the departed day,

Upon whose bier
The velvet pall of midnight had been flung,

And Nature mourned through one wide hemisphere Silence and darkness held their cheerless sway,

Save in the haunts of riotous excess;
And half the world in dreamy slumbers lay,
Lost in the maze of sweet forgetfulness.

When lo! upon the startled ear,
There broke a sound so dread and drear, -
As, like a sudden peal of thunder,

Burst the bands of sleep asunder,
And filled a thousand throbbing hearts with fear.

Hark! the faithful watchman's cry
Speaks a conflagration nigh! -
See! yon glare upon the sky

Confirms the fearful tale.
The deep-mouthed bells with rapid tone,
Combine to make the tidings known ;

Affrighted silence now has flown,
And sounds of terror freight the chilly gale!

At the first note of this discordant din,

The gallant fireman from his slumber starts
Reckless of toil and danger, if he win
The tributary meed of grateful hearts.

From pavement rough, or frozen ground.

His engine's rattling wheels resound,

And soon before his eyes
The lurid flames, with horrid glare,

Mingled with murky vapors rist,
In'wreathy folds upon the air,

And veil the frowning skies !

Sudden a shriek assails his heart,

A female shriek, so piercing wild,
As makes his very life-blood start :
“ My child! Almighty God, my child I"

He hears,
And 'gainst the tottering wall

The ponderous ladder rears :
While blazing fragments round him fall,

And crackling sounds assail his ears,
His sinewy arm, with one rude crash,
Hurls to the earth the opposing sash;

And, heedless of the startling din,
Though smoky volumes round him roll,
The mother's shriek has pierced his soul,-

See! see! he plunges in !
The admiring crowd, with hopes and fears,

In breathless expectation stands,
When, lo! the daring youth appears,

Hailed by a burst of warm, ecstatic cheers, Bearing the child triumphant in his arms.

Anonymous

CCI.

SPEAK GENTLY.

SP
PEAK gently: it is better far

To rule by love than fear.
Speak gently : let no harsh words mar

The good we might do here.

Speak gently; love doth whisper low

The vows that true hearts bind ;