A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,

His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,

Joy quickens his pulse-all his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest "O God! thou hast blest me, I ask for no more."

Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye! Ah! what is that sound that now 'larums his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunder, the groan of the sphere y

He springs from his hammock

he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire; Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck, The masts fly in splinters—the shrouds are on fire!

Like mountains the billows tumultuously swell;
In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save; —
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,
And the death-angel flaps his dark wings o'er the wave.

O, sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss; Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright, Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?

O, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again

Shall love, home or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,

Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.

Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye-

O, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul!

22 DAMON AND PYTHIAS. —Adaptation of a translation from Schiller, by Sir E. Bulwer Lytton.

"Now, Dionysius, - tyrant, die!"
Stern Damon with his poniard crept :
The watchful guards upon him swept;
The grim king marked his bearing high.
"What wouldst thou with thy knife? Reply!"-
"The city from the tyrant free!".

"The death-cross shall thy guerdon be."

I am prepared for death, nor pray,"
Haughtily Damon said, "to live;
Enough, if thou one grace wilt give:
For three brief suns the death delay!
A sister's nuptial rites now stay
My promised coming, leagues away;
I boast a friend, whose life for mine,
If I should fail the cross, is thine."

The tyrant mused, and smiled, and said,
With gloomy craft, "So let it be;
Three days I will vouchsafe to thee.
But, mark if, when the time be sped,
Thou fail'st, thy surety dies instead.
His life shall buy thine own release;
Thy guilt atoned, my wrath shall cease."

And Damon sought his friend: "The king
Ordains, my life, the cross upon,
Shall pay the deed I would have done;
Yet grants three days' delay to me,
My sister's marriage-rites to see,
If thou, my Pythias, wilt remain
Hostage till I return again!"

One clasp of hands—and Pythias said
No word, but to the tyrant strode,.
While Damon went upon his road.
Ere the third sun in Heaven was red,
The rite was o'er, the sister wed;
And back, with anxious heart unquailing,
He hastes to keep the pledge unfailing.

Down the great rains unending bore!

Down from the hills the torrents rushed!
In one broad stream, the brooklets gushed

Ard Damon halts beside the shore.
The bridge was swept the tides before!
And the tumultuous waves, in thunder,
Rushed o'er the shattered arch and under

Then raised his arms to Jove, and cried
"Stay thou, O, stay the maddening tide!
Midway, behold, the swift sun sweeps,
And ere he sink adown the deeps,
If I should fail, his beams will see

My friend's last anguish - slain for me!"

Fierce runs the stream; more broad it flows,
And wave on wave succeeds, and dies;
And hour on hour, remorseless, flies;
Despair at last to daring grows:
Amid the flood his form he throws,
With vigorous arm the roaring waves
Cleaves, and a God that pities saves!

He wins the bank, his path pursues,
The anxious terrors hound him on-
Lo! reddening in the evening sun,
From far, the domes of Syracuse!
When towards him comes Philostratus
(His leal and trusty herdsman he),
And to the master bends his knee.

"Back! thou canst aid thy friend no more; The niggard time already 's flown—

His life is forfeit

save thine own!

Hour after hour in hope he bore,

Nor might his soul its faith give o'er;
Nor could the tyrant's scorn, deriding,
Steal from that faith one thought confiding!"

"Too late! what horrors hast thou spoken!
Vain life, since it cannot requite him!
But death can yet with me unite him;
No boast the tyrant's scorn shall make
How friend to friend can faith forsake;
But, from the double-death, shall know
That Truth and Love yet live below!"

The eager crowd gape murmuring round.
Lo! Pythias bound the cross unto!

When, crowd guards — all — bursts Damon through;
'Me, doomsman!" shouts he,- 66
-

me, alone!

His life is rescued-lo! mine own !"

Amazement seized the circling ring.

Linked in each other's arms the pair

Stood, thrilled with joy- yet anguish — there!
Moist every eye that gazed; they bring

The wondrous tidings to the king:

His breast man's heart at length has known,
And the friends stand before his throne.

23 THE BATTLE.-Translated from Schiller, by Sir E. Bulwer Lytton.

HEAVY and solemn,

A cloudy column,

Through the green plain they marching came!

Measureless spread, like a table dread,

For the wild grim dice of the iron game.
Looks are bent on the shaking ground,
Hearts beat loud with a knelling sound;
Swift by the breasts that must bear the brunt,
Gallops the major along the front;

"Halt!"

And fettered they stand at the stark command,
And the warriors, silent, halt!

Proud in the blush of morning glowing,
What on the hill-top shines in flowing?
"See you the foeman's banners waving?"
"We see the foeman's banners waving!
"God be with ye, children and wife!"
Hark to the music, the trump and the fife,

How they ring through the ranks, which they rouse to the strife!
Thrilling they sound, with their glorious tone,
Thrilling they go through the marrow and bone!
Brothers, God grant, when this life is o'er,
In the life to come that we meet once more!

See the smoke how the lightning is cleaving asunder!
Hark! the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in their thunder!
From host to host, with kindling sound,

The shouting signal circles round;
Ay, shout it forth to life or death, -
Freer already breathes the breath!
The war is waging, slaughter raging,
And heavy through the reeking pall

The iron death-dice fall!

Nearer they close,
Ready!"

-foes upon foes.

from square to square it goes.

They kneel as one man, from flank to flank,
And the fire comes sharp from the foremost rank.
Many a soldier to earth is sent,

Many a gap by the balls is rent;

O'er the corse before springs the hinder man,
That the line may not fail to the fearless van.
To the right, to the left, and around and around,
Death whirls in its dance on the bloody ground.
God's sunlight is quenched in the fiery fight,
Over the host falls a brooding night!
Brothers, God grant, when this life is o'er,
In the life to come that we meet once more!
The dead men lie bathed in the weltering blood,
And the living are blent in the slippery flood,
And the feet, as they reeling and sliding go,
Stumble still on the corses that sleep below.

"What! Francis!"—"Give Charlotte my last farewell.'
As the dying man murmurs, the thunders swell.
"I'll give - O God! are their guns so near?
Ho! comrades! - yon volley!

look sharp to the rear

I'll give thy Charlotte thy last farewell;

Sleep soft! where death thickest descendeth in rain,
The friend thou forsakest thy side may regain!"
Hitherward, thitherward reels the fight;
Dark and more darkly day glooms into night;
Brothers, God grant, when this life is o'er,
In the life to come that we meet once more!

Hark to the hoofs that galloping go!
The adjutants flying,-

The horsemen press hard on the panting foe,
Their thunder booms, in dying-