Lord Byron was born in London in 1788. His first volume of verses, entitled "Hours of Idleness," was printed in 1807. "Manfred" and "The Lament of Tasso" were written in 1817. From 1818 to his death Byron was occupied on "Don Juan." In 1823 he went to Greece, and with advice and money aided in the Greek struggle for independence. He died in Greece in 1824.

"And it came to pass, that night, that the angel of the Lord went out and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred four score and five thousand; and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses."-II. Kings, xix., 35.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.
For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved-and forever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,

And cold as the spray of the rock beating surf.

And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

THE DEATH BED.

BY THOMAS HOOD.

Thomas Hood was born in London in 1799, and early in life turned his attention to literary pursuits. At the age of 22 he became sub-editor of the London Magazine, which gave him acquaintance with all the literary men of the age, and an intimacy with Charles Lamb, which continued until his death. He was a voluminous writer, both in poetry and prose, contributing to various magazines. In 1844 Hood's Magazine was started, for which he furnished most of the material until near his death. His best work was done during his last sickness, when, on a bed of suffering, he contributed to Punch those touching verses which have rendered his name immortal: "The Song of the Shirt" and ""me Bridge of Sighs." He died May 3, 1845.

We watched her sleeping through the night,

Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life

Kept surging to and fro.

So silently we seemed to speak,

So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers

To eke her being out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,

Our fears our hopes belied,

We thought her dying when she slept,

And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came dim and sad,

And chill with early showers,

Her quiet eyelids closed, she had
Another morn than ours.

George Herbert was born at Montgomery castle in Wales in 1593. He graduated from Trinity College, Cambridge, and in 1619 he was made a public orator. Charles I., with whom he was in great favor, gave him the rectory of Bemerton, which has the reputation of being the smallest church in England. It was here that Herbert wrote his religious poems, "The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations." He died at Bemerton in 1633.

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright;

The bridal of the earth and sky;

The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,

Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
Thy music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like seasoned timber never gives,

But, though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

YOUN

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS

BY RICHARD LOVELACE.

Richard Lovelace was an English cavalier, born in 1618, a period which produced many poets. He was educated both at the Charterhouse and at Oxford. He was twice imprisoned on account of the active part he took in the affairs of the times. After the execution of Charles, he was set free from prison only to find that his estates had been confiscated. He died in great poverty in London, in 1658. After his death his poems were collected under the name of "Lucasta, Posthume Poems." The name of the lady to whom the poems were written was Lucy Sacheverell, whom he called his "Lux Castra."

CHERRY RIPE.

BY THOMAS CAMPION.

There is a garden in her face

Where roses and white lilies blow,

A heavenly paradise is that place,

Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow; There cherries grow that none may buy, Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose

Of orient pearl a double row,

Which, when her lovely laughter shows,

They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow; Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still;

Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill

All that approach with eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.

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