He went like one that had been stunned, And is of sense forlorn : A sadder and a wiser man He rose the morrow morn. AN ODE.-Sir W. Jones. WHAT Constitutes a state? Not high-raised battlement or laboured mound, Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride; Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. With powers as far above dull brutes endued As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude; But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain : And sovereign law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sits empress crowning good, repressing ill; Smit by her sacred frown, The fiend Dissension like a vapour sinks, And e'en the all-dazzling crown Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. Than Lesbos fairer, and the Cretan shore ! Shall Britons languish, and be men no more? Those sweet rewards, which decorate the brave, And steal inglorious to the silent grave. THE CAMERONIAN'S DREAM.-Hislop. And far up in heaven near the white sunny cloud, The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness; But, oh! there were hearts cherished far other feelings, Who drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow; For they knew that their blood would bedew it to morrow. 'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying, Concealed 'mong the mist where the heath fowl was crying, For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering, And their bridle reins rung through the thin misty covering. Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheathed, But the vengeance that darkened their brow was unbreathed; With eyes turned to heaven in calm resignation, They sung their last song to the God of Salvation. Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded, The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming, The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling, When in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling. When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended, A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended; A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining, On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding, Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding; Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye, A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory! K FABLE.-Emerson. THE Mountain and the Squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig:" Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big, But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together To make up a year, And I think it no disgrace If I'm not so large as you, I'll not deny you make Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; FROM "LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME."- THEN Out spake brave Horatius, And for the tender mother And for the holy maidens Who feed the eternal flame, To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame ? "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may ; I, with two more to help me, "I will abide on thy left side, "As thou sayest, so let it be." Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great : Then lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old. |