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cing their existence by here and there a peak entirely bare, or by the breakers which foamed over those that were partially covered, ren. dered Knockwinnock bay dreaded by pilots and ship-masters. The crags which rose between the beach and he main land, to the height of two or three hundred feet, afforded in their crevices shelter for unnumbered sea-fowl, in situations seemingly secured by their dizzy beight from the rapacity of man. Many of these wild tribes, with the lostinct which sends them to seek the land before a storm arises, were a)* winging towards their nests with the shrill and dissonant clang which announces disquietude and fear. The disk of the sun became Elmost totally obscured ere he had altogether sunk below the horizon, and an early and lurid shade of darkness blotted the serene twilight of a summer evening. The wind began next to arise; but its wild and moaning sound was heard for some time, and its effects became visible on the bosom of the sea, before the gale was felt on shore. The mass of waters, now dark and threatening, began to lift itself in larger ridges, and sink in deeper furrows, forming waves that rose high in foam upon the breakers, or burst upon the beach with a sound re sembling distant thunder.

FROM "THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN.”

262. DESCRIPTION OF RICHMOND. The carriage rolled rapidly onwards through fertile meadows, orna. mented with splendid old oaks, and catching occasionally a glance of the majestic mirror of a broad and placid river. After passing through a pleasant villa'ze, the equipage stopped on a commanding eminence, where the beauty of English landscape was displayed in its utmost luxuriance. Here the Duke alighted, and desired Jeanie to follow hiin. They paused for a moment on the brow of a hill, to gaze on the unrivalled landscape which it presented. A huge sea of verdure, with crossing and intersecting promontories of massive and tụfted groves, was tenanted by numberless flocks and herds, which seemed to wander unrestrained and unbounded through the rich pastures. The Thames, here turreted with villas, and there garlanded with forests, moved on slowly and placidly, like the mighty monarch of the scene, to whom all its other beauties were but accessories, and bore on its bosom a hundred barks and skiffs, whose white sails and gayly fluttering pen. nons gave life to the whole.

FROM "IVANHOE.” 263. REBECCA DESCRIBES THE SIEGE TO THE WOUNDED IVANHOE.

“And I must lie here like a bedridden monk,” exclaimed Ivanhoe, “ while the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others!. - Look from the window or.ce again, kind maiden, but beware that you are not marked by the archers beneath - Look out once more, and tell me if they yet advance to the storm."

With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath.

" What dost thou see, Rebecca ?” again demanded the wounded knight.

"Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine ayes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them.":

"That cannot endure,” said Ivanhoe; “ if they press not right on to carry the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, so will his followers be.”

“I see him not,” said Rebecca.

"Foul craven!” exclaimed Ivanhoe; “ does he blench from the helm when the wind blows highest?"

“He blenches not! he blenches not!” said Rebecca. “I see him now; he leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the bar. bican. - They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes. - His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field of the slain. — They have made a breach in the barriers -- they rush in - they are thrust back! - Frontde-Beuf heads the defenders; I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. God of Jacob! it is the meeting of two fierce tides - the conflict of two oceans moved by adverse winds ! ”

She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure a sight so terrible. · "Look forth again, Rebecca,” said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of her retiring; "the archery must in some degree have ceased, since they are now fighting hand to hand. — Look again; there is now less danger.”

Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, “ Holy prophets of the law! Front-de-Bæuf and the Black Knight fight hand to hand on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch the progress of the strife. — Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed and of the captive!” She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, “He is down! – he is down!”

64 Who is down?” cried Ivanhoe; “ for our dear Lady's sake, tell me which has fallen?”.

“ The Black Knight,” answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly again shouted with joyful eagerness — “But no- but no!- the name of the Lord of Hosts be blessed! - he is on foot again, and fights as if there were twenty men's strength in his single arm — His sword is broken - he snatches an axe from a yeoman - he presses Front-deSæuf with blow on blow - The giant stoops and totters like an oak nder the steel of the woodman - he falls - he falls ! "

“ Front-de-Bouf?” exclaimed Ivanhoe.

“ Front-de-Bauf!” answered the Jewess; "his nien rush to the rescue, headed by the haughty Templar — their united force compels the champion to pause — They drag Front-de-Bæuf within the walls.”

" The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?” sniel Ivanhoe.

“They have they have !” exclaimed Rebecca —"and they prese the besieged hard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some mwarm like bees, and endeavor to ascend upon the shoulders of each Other - down go stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault - Great God! hast thou given men thine own image, that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!”

" Think not of that,” said Ivanhoe; - this is no time for such thoughts - Who yield ? - who push their way?"

" The ladders are thrown down,” replied Rebecca, shuddering; “ the soldiers lie grovelling under them like crushed reptiles - The besieged have the better.”

“ Saint George strike for us!” exclaimed the knight; “ do the false yeomen give way?”.

“No!” exclaimed Rebecca, “ they bear themselves right yeomanly - the Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge axe - the thundering blows which he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of the battle - Stones and beams are hailed down on the bold champion - he regards them no more than if they were thistle-down or feathers !

“By Saint John of Acre,” said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch, “methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed!”

“ The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; “it crashes - it is oplintered by his blows — they rush in - the outwork is won-0 God! – they hurl the defenders from the battlements - they throw them into the moat - men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer!”

“The bridge — the bridge which communicates with the castle .. have they won that pass?” exclaimed Ivanhoe.

“ No," replied Rebecca, “ the Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed — few of the defenders escaped with hiin into the 243tle – the shrieks and cries which you hear tell the fate of the oth. e re -- Alas! I see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle.”

CHAPTER XX.

BYRON, MOORE, SHELLEY, KEATS, AND CAMPBELL.

LORD BYRON. 1788–1824. (Manual, pp. 396–404.)

FROM “CHILDE HAROLD.”
264. THE EVE OF THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage bell;
But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did ye not hear it? – No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet -
But hark! - that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before !
Arm! Arm! it is - it is the cannon's opening roar!

Within a windowed niche of that high hall
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear
Chat sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear;
And when they smiled because he deemed it near,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,

And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell;
He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell."

The sound of the cannon decided the Duke of Wellington to appear at the ball, where he ute all three o'clock in the morning, that he might calm, by his apparent indifference, the fears of his sug porters in Brussels, and depress the hopes of the well-wishers to the French

The Duke of Brunswick was killed at Quatre Bras on the 16th of June. His father received u perinde, of whieh he afterwards died, at thu battle of Jena, in 1906.

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering teais, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness;
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess

If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon right so sweet such awful morn could rise !

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;

While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering, with white lips — “The foe! They come! they

come!”

265. ROME.
O Rome! my country! city of the soul!
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee,
Lone mother of dead empires! and control
In their shut breasts their petty misery.
What are our woes and sufferance? Come aid see
The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way
O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye,
Whose agonies are evils of a day-
A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.

The Niobe of nations! there she stands,
Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe;
An empty urn within her withered hands,
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago;
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now;
The very sepulchres lie tenantless
Of their heroic dwellers: dost thou flow,
Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness?
Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress

266. THE GLADIATOR.
I see before me the Gladiator lie:
He leans upon his hand - his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,

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