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He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-
“Now tread we a measure !" said young Lochinvar.
So'stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and

plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, “'Twere better

by far

To have match'd our fair cousin with young

Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her car, When they reached the hall door, and the charger

stood near, So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung !"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and

scaur ! They'll have fleet steeds that follow !” quoth young

Lochinvar. There was mounting ʼmong Græmes of the Netherby Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and

they ran; There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see! So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

clan ;

“He was a man, take him for all in all

I shall not look upon his like again.”

TELL'S SPEECH.—(F. S. Knowles.) YE crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! I hold to you the hands you first beheld, To show they still are free. Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answer me, And bid your tenant welcome to his home Again ! O sacred forms, how proud you look! How high you lift your heads into the sky! How huge you are! How mighty and how free! Ye are the things that tower, that shine-whose

smile Makes glad—whose frown is terriblc—whose forms, Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear Of awe divine, ye guards of liberty I'm with you once again! I call to you With all my voice! I hold my hands to you To show they still are free. I rush to you As though I could embrace you !

Scaling yonder peak,
I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow,
O'er the abyss : his broad expanded wings
Lay calm and motionless upon the air,
As if he floated there without their aid,
By the sole act of his unlorded will,
That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively
I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still
His airy circle, as in the delight
Of measuring the ample range bencath,
And round about absorbed, he hecded not
The death that threaten'd him. I could not shoot ;
'Twas liberty! I turned my bow aside,
And let him soar away!

Heavens, with what pride I used
To walk these hills, and look up to my God,

And bless Him that it was so ! It was free !-
From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free !-
Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,
And plough our valleys, without asking leave;
Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow,
In very presence of the regal sun !
How happy was it then! I loved
Its very storms ! yes, Emma, I have sat
In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake,
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge
The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head,
And think, I had no master save his own !
You know the jutting cliff round which a track
Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow
To such another one, with scanty room
For two a-breast to pass ! O’ertaken there
By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along,
And while gust, followed gust, more furiously,
As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink,
And I have thought of other lands, whose storms
Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just
Have wished me there—the thought that mine was

Has check'd that wish, and I have raised my head,
And cried in thraldom to that furious wind,
Blow on! This is the land of liberty !


LOQUACITY. MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT I. SCENE I. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice : his reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them they are not worth the search.”

FROM INDIA.-(W. C. Bennett.) “O come you from the Indies ? and, soldier, can

you tell

Aught of the gallant goth, and who are safe and

well ? O, soldier, say my son is safe ; for nothing else I

; care, And you shall have a mother's thanks—shall have

á widow's prayer.” “O, I've come from the Indies--I've just come from

the war ;

And well I know the goth, and gallant lads they


From colonel down to rank and file, I know my

comrades well, And news I've brought for you, mother, your

Robert bade me tell.” And do you know my Robert now? O tell me,

tell me true, O soldier, tell me word for word all that he said

to you:

His very words-my own boy's words-0 tell me

every one! You little know how dear to his old mother is my


“Through Havelock's fights and marches the goth

were there ; In all the gallant goth did, your Robert did his

share ; Twice he went into Lucknow, untouch'd by steel

or ball, And you may bless your God, old dame, that

brought him safe through all."

“O thanks unto the living God that heard his

mother's prayer, The widow's cry that rose on high her only son to

spare ; O bless'd be God, that turn'd from him the sword

and shot away! And what to his old mother did my darling bid you


Mother, he saved his colonel's life, and bravely it

was done ; In the despatch they told it all, and named and

praised your son; A medal and a pension's his; good luck to him I

say, And he has not a comrade but will wish him well


“Now, soldier, blessings on your tongue. O husband, that

you knew How well our boy pays me this day for all that

I've gone through, All I have done and borne for him the long years

since you're dead ! But, soldier, tell me how he look'd, and all my

Robert said."

"He's bronzed, and tann'd, and bearded, and you'd

hardly know him, dame. We've made your boy into a man, but still his

heart's the same; For often, dame, his talk 's of you, and always to

one tune : But there his ship is nearly home, and he'll be with

you soon."

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