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He was a youth of dusky mien',
A stranger', like the palm-tree', there.
Glittering athwart the leafy glooms';
There shot a rapture through his frame'!
The silence of his soul it broke';
Had something of the sea-wave's moan!
Where feathery cocoas fringed the bay';
He clasp'd his country's tree and wept !
The patriot girds himself to die,
BY J. MACPHERSON. 1. I HAVE seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls; and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head'; the moss whistled to the wind'. The fox looked out from the windows'; the rank grass of the wall waved round its head'. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina; silence is in the house of her fathers. Raise the song of mourning; O bards'! over the land of strangers. They have but fatlen before us; for one day we must fall.
2. Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day: yet a few years, and the blast of the desert comes; it howls in thy empty court', and whistles round thy half-worn shield'. And let the blast of the desert come'!' we shall be renowned in our day'! The mark of my arm shall be in battle, my name in the song of bards. Raise the song', send round the shell'; let joy be heard in my hall. When thou', sun of heaven,' shalt fail ! if thou shalt fail, thou mighty light' ! if thy brightness is but for a season, like Fingal, our fame shall survive thy beams.
3. Such was the song of Fingal in the day of his joy. Hear the voice of Colma when she sat alone on the hill. It is night'; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain, forlorn on the hill of winds! Rise', moon', from behind thy clouds'. Stars of the night', arise'! lead me, by thy light, to the place where my love rests from the chase alone, his bow near him, unstrung, his dogs panting around him. But here I must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar', why the chief of the hills his promise'? Here is the rock', and here the tree'! here is the roaring stream'! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone'?
4. With thee would I fly from my father, with thee from my brother of pride. Our race/have long been foes'; we are not foes', 0 Salgar'! Cease a little while'; let my voice be heard around'. Let my wanderer hear me'! Salgar, it is Colma who calls! Here is the tree and the rock. Salgar, my love'! I am here!. Why delayest thou thy coming'? Lo! the calm moon comes forth; the flood is bright in the vale; the rocks are gray on the steep. I see him not on the brow. His dogs come not before him with tidings of his near approach. Here I must sit alone!
5. Who lie on the heath beside me'? Are they my love and my brother'? Speak to me', O my friend'! To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me': I am alone! My soul is tormented with fears' 'Ab! they are dead'! Their swords are red from the fight.
6. O my brother'! my brother'! why hast thou slain my Salgar'? Why, O Salgar'! hast thou slain my brother'? 'Dear were
ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise ? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands ! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me'; hear my voice'; hear me', sons of my love'! They are silent'; silent forever'! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay! Oh, from the rock on the hill, from the top of the windy steep, speak', ye ghosts of the dead'! speak'! I will not be afraid!! Whither are ye gone to rest'! In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed"? No feeble voice is on the gale; no answer half-drowned in the storm! I sit in my grief! I wait for morning in my tears.
BY MRS. SOUTHEY.
In reverent silence bow':
Is passing now. i
. With lowly reverence bow';
Greater than thou?
Lo! Death doth keep his state';
. No smiling courtiers tread';
A dying head'.
An infant wail alone',-
The parting groan'!
6. O change'! O wondrous change'!
Burst are the prison-bars': .
Beyond the stars'!
7. O change'! stupendous change'!
There lies the soulless clod';
Wakes with his God'.
BY LE SAGE.
died in 1747. ASTURIAS, (as to’re as,) an ancient division of Spain. Cor Que LO, (kor qualo.) Gil Blas, (zil blå'.) PEÑAFLOR, (pen ya flor”,) CAS TRO POL, (kas tro pol”,) SANTILLANA,
(san til ya'na,) OVIEDO, (o ve a/do,) towns in Spain. 1. I ARRIVED in safety at Peñaflor; and, halting at the gate of an inn that made a tolerable appearance', I had no sooner alighted', than the landlord came out, and received me with great civility; he untied my portmanteau with his own hands', and, throwing it on his shoulders', conducted me into a room, while oce of his servants led my mule into the stable. This innkeeper', the greatest talker of the Asturias', and as ready to relate his own affairs without being asked' as to pry into those of another, told me that his name was Andrew Corcuelo'; that he had served many years in the army in quality of a sergeant', and had quitted the service fifteen months ago, to marry a damsel of Castropol, who, though she was a little swarthy, knew very well how to turn the penny.
2. He said a thousand other things', which I could have dispensed with the hearing of'; but, after having made me his confidant', he thought he had a right to exact the same condescension from me'; and, accordingly, he asked me from whence I came', whither I was going', and what I was'. I was obliged to answer article by article, because he accompanied every question with a profound bow, and begged me to excuse his curiosity with such a respectful air', that I could not refuse to gratify him in every particular. '
3. This engaged me in a long conversation with him, and gave me occasion to mention my design', and the reason I had for disposing of my mule, that I might take the opportunity of a carrier! He approved of my intention', though not in a very succinct manner'; for he represented all the troublesome accidents that might befal me on the road', recounted many dismal stories of travelers', and, I was afraid', would never have done': he concluded at length, however, telling me that if I had a mind to sell my mule', he was acquainted with a very honest jockey', who would buy her.
4. I assured him he would oblige me in sending for him; upon which he went in quest of him with great eagerness. It was not long before he returned with his man, whom he introduced to me as a person of exceeding honesty; and we went into the yard all together. There my mule was produced', and passed and repassed before the jockey', who examined her from head to foot', and then did not fail to speak very disadvantageously of her. I own there was not much to be said in her praise'; but, however, had it been the pope's mule he would have found some defects in her.
5. He assured me she had all the faults a mule could have; and, to convince me of his veracity, appealed to the landlord, who, doubtless, had his reasons for supporting his friend's assertions. “Well,” said this dealer, with an air of indifference, “how much money do you expect for this wretched animal ?”' After the eulogium he had bestowed on her, and the attestation of Signor Corcuelo', whom I believed to be a man of honesty and understanding, I would have given my mule for nothing'; and therefore told him I would rely on his integrity, bidding him appraise the beast in his own conscience and I would stand to the valuation.
6. Upon this he assumed the man of honor, and replied that in engaging his conscience', I took him on the weak side'. In good sooth, that did not seem to be his strong side; for, instead of valuing her at ten or twelve pistoles, as my uncle had done, he fixed the price at three ducats, which I accepted with as much joy as if I had made an excellent bargain. After having so advantageously disposed of my mule, the landlord conducted me to a carrier, who was to set out next day for Astorga.
7. When every thing was settled between us', I returned to