And soon, to the eyes of our yeomen, All panting with rage at the sight, Gleamed the long wavy tents of the foeman, As he lay in his camp on the height. Grim dashed they away as they bounded, Did their bayonets press through the strife, Where, with every swift pull of the trigger, The sharpshooters dashed out a life! 'Twas the meeting of eagles and lions, 'Twas the rushing of tempests and waves, Insolent triumph 'gainst patriot defiance, Born freemen 'gainst sycophant slaves: Scotch Ferguson sounding his whistle, As from danger to danger he flies, Feels the moral that lies in Scotch thistle, With its" touch me who dare!" and he dies. An hour, and the battle is over; The eagles are rending the prey; The serpents seek flight into cover, More dreadful the doom that on treason Avenges the wrongs of the State; And the oak tree for many a season Bears its fruit for the vultures of Fate. WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS. William Gilmore Simms was born at Charleston, South Carolina, in 1806, and died in June, 1870. His writings consist of poetry, dramas, romances, history, and critical and miscellaneous essays. He was best in fiction, and American history was the ground of nearly all his novels. He was a contributor to many magazines, and be sides took an active part in politics and was a successful planter. beagles hunting dogs. gorge: a narrow passage between hills. - antre: cave.—gives tongue: sounds loudly. -myrmidons: rough, desperate followers. sycophant: mean; cringing. The Midnight Sun. The phenomenon described in the following lesson occurred on the northern coast of Norway. The fiords are long, narrow inlets, bounded by high rocks or banks, often opening again into the sea. Drontheim, or more properly Trondjem, is a town of about twenty thousand inhabitants and was formerly the capital of Norway. As we crossed the mouth of the Ulvsfiord that evening, we had an open sea horizon toward the north, a clear sky, and so much sunshine at eleven o'clock that it was evident the polar day had dawned upon us at last. The illumination of the shores was unearthly in its glory, and the wonderful effects of the orange sunlight, playing upon the dark hues of the island cliffs, can neither be told nor painted. The sun hung low between Fuglöe, rising like a double dome from the sea, and the tall mountains of Arnöe, both of which islands resembled immense masses of transparent purple glass, gradually melting into crimson fire at their bases. The glassy, leaden-colored sea was powdered with a golden bloom, and the tremendous precipices at the mouth of the Lyngen Fiord, behind us, were steeped in a dark red, mellow flush, and touched with pencilings of pure, rose-colored light, until their naked ribs seemed to be clothed in imperial velvet. As we turned into the fiord and ran southward along the bases, a waterfall, struck by the sun, fell in fiery orange foam down the red walls, and the blue ice pillars of a beautiful glacier filled up the ravine beyond it. We were all on deck; and all faces, excited by the divine splendor of the scene and tinged by the same wonderful aureole, shone as if transfigured. In my whole life I have never seen a spectacle so unearthly beautiful. Our course brought the sun rapidly toward the ruby cliffs of Arnöe, and it was evident that he would soon be hidden from sight. It was not yet half past eleven, |