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Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs;
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.

SHAKSPEARE.

CLXXIV. FROM LALLA ROOKII.

1 BUT see he starts-what heard he then?
That dreadful shout!-across the glen
From the land-side it comes, and loud
Rings through the chasm; as if the crowd
Of fearful things, that haunt that dell,
Its Ghouls and Dives and shapes of hell,
Had all in one dread howl broke out,
So loud, so terrible that shout!
"They come the Moslems come!" he cries,
His proud soul mounting to his eyes-
"Now spirits of the brave, who roam
Enfranchised through yon starry dome,
Rejoice for souls of kindred fire
Are on the wing to join your choir!"

2. He said—and, light as bridegrooms bound
To their young loves, reclimbed the steep
And gained the shrine-his chiefs stood round—
Their swords, as with instinctive leap,

Together, at that cry accurst,

Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst,
And hark!—again—again it rings;

Near and more near its echoings

Peal through the chasms-Oh! who that then
Had seen those listening warrior-men,

With their swords grasped, their eyes of flame
Turned on their chief-could doubt the shame,
The indignant shame with which they thrill
To hear those shouts and yet stand still?

3. He read their thoughts-they were his own—
"What! while our arms can wield these blades,
Shall we die tamely? die alone?

Without one victim to our shades,

One Moslem heart, where, buried deep,
The saber from its toil may sleep?
No-God of Iran's burning skies!

Thou scorn'st the inglorious sacrifice.
No-though of all earth's hope bereft,
Life, swords, and vengeance still are left:
We'll make yon valley's reeking caves
Live in the awestruck minds of men,
Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves
Tell of the Gueber's bloody glen!
Follow, brave hearts!-this pile remains
Our refuge still from life and chains;
But his the best, the holiest bed,

Who sinks entombed in Moslem dead!"

MOORE.

CLXXV.-MOLOCH AND SATAN, BEFORE THE POWERS OF
HELL.

1. ONE there was whose loud defying tongue
Nor hope nor fear had silenced, but the swell
Of overboiling malice.
Utterance long
His passion mocked and long he strove to tell
His laboring ire; still syllable none fell
From his pale quivering lip, but died away
For very fury; from each hollow cell

Half sprang his eyes, that cast a flamy ray.

2. "This comes," at length burst from the furious chief, "This comes of dastard counsels! Here behold

The fruits of wily cunning! the relief

Which coward policy would fain unfold

To soothe the powers that warred with heaven of old.

O wise! O potent! O sagacious snare!

And lo! our prince-the mighty and the bold,

There stands he, spell-struck, gaping at the air

While heaven subverts his reign and plants her standard there."

3. Here as recovered, Satan fixed his eye

Full on the speaker-dark as it was stern-
He wrapped his black vest round him gloomily

And stood like one whom weightiest thoughts concern.
Him Moloch marked and strove again to turn

His soul to rage. "Behold, behold," he cried,
"The lord of hell, who bade these legions spurn
Almighty rule-behold he lays aside

The spear of just revenge, and shrinks, by man defied."

4. Thus ended Moloch, and his burning tongue
Hung quivering as if mad to quench its heat
In slaughter. So, his native wilds among,
The famished tiger pants, when near his seat,
Pressed on the sands, he marks the traveler's feet.
Instant low murmurs rose, and many a sword
Had from its scabbard sprung; but toward the seat
Of the arch-fiend, all turned with one accord,

As loud he thus harangued the sanguinary horde:

5. "Ye powers of hell, I am no coward. I proved this of old. Who led your forces against the armies of Jehovah? Who coped with Ithuriel, and the thunders of the Almighty? Who, when stunned and confused ye lay on the burning lake, who first awoke and collected your scattered powers? Lastly, who led you across the unfathomable abyss to this delightful world, and established that reign here which now totters to its base? How, therefore, dares yon treacherous fiend to cast a stain on Satan's bravery? He, who preys only on the defenseless-who sucks the blood of infants, and delights only in acts of ignoble cruelty and unequal contention! Away with the boaster who never joins in action; but, like a cormorant, hovers over the field, to feed upon the wounded and overwhelm the dying. True bravery is as remote from rashness as from hesitation. Let us counsel coolly, but let us execute our counseled purposes determinedly. In power, we have learned by that experiment which lost us heaven, that we are inferior to the thunder-bearer: in subtlety-in subtlety alone, we are his equals."

WHITE.

CLXXVI. THE FIREMAN.

1. 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

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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.

2. 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's us; arts 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 rise,
In wreathy folds upon the air,
And vail the frowning skies!

4. 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!"
He hears,

And 'gainst the tottering wall,

The ponderous ladder rears;

While blazing fragments round him fall,
And crackling sounds assail his ears.

5. 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 hands!

CLXXVII.-THE DYING BRIGAND.

1 SHE stood before the dying man,
And her eye grew wildly bright-
"Ye will not pause for a woman's ban,
Nor shrink from a woman's might;
And his glance is dim that made you fly,
As ye before have fled:

Look dastards !-how the brave can die-
Beware!-he is not dead!

2. By his blood you have tracked him to his lair!— Would you bid the spirit part?

He that durst harm one single hair
Must reach it through my heart.

I can not weep, for my brain is dry—
Nor plead, for I know not how;

But my aim is sure, and the shaft may fly,-
And the bubbling life-blood flow!

3. Yet leave me, while dim life remains,
To list his parting sigh;

To kiss away those gory stains,
To close his beamless eye!
Ye will not! no-he triumphs still,
Whose foes his death-pangs dread-
His was the power--yours but the will:
Back-back-he is not dead!

4 His was the power that held in thrall,
Through many a glorious year,
Priests, burghers, nobles, princes, all
Slaves worship, hate, or fear.
Wrongs, insults, injuries thrust him forth
A bandit chief to dwell;

How he avenged his slighted worth,
Ye, cravens, besc may tell!

5. His spirit lives in the mountain breath,
It flows in the mountain wave;

KIDD.-30

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