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One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near-
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur!
They'll have fleet steeds that follow! "quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There were racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea—
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?

THE AFRICAN CHIEF.-(Bryant.)

CHAINED in the market-place he stood- -a man of giant frame,
Amid the gathering multitude, that shrunk to hear his name;
All stern of look, and strong of limb, his dark eye on the ground:-
And silently they gazed on him, as on a lion bound.

Vainly, but well, that chief had fought he was a captive now;
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, was written on his brow.

The scars his dark broad bosom wore, showed warrior true and brave;
A prince among his tribe before, he could not be a slave !

Then to his conqueror he spake-"My brother is a king;
Undo this necklace from my neck, and take this bracelet ring,
And send me where my brother reigns; and I will fill thy hands
With store of ivory from the plains, and gold dust from the sands."
"Nor for thy ivory nor thy gold will I unbind thy chain :
That fettered hand shall never hold the battle-spear again :
A price thy nation never gave shall yet be paid for thee;
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, in lands beyond the sea.
Then wept the warrior-chief, and bade to shred his locks away,
And, one by one, each heavy braid before the victor lay.
Thick were the plaited locks, and long; and deftly hidden there,
Shone many a wedge of gold among the dark and crisped hair.
"Look! feast thy greedy eyes with gold, long kept for sorest need;
Take it thou askest sums untolu,-and say that I am freed.
Take it !—my wife, the long, long day weeps by the cocoa-tree,
And my young children leave their play, and ask in vain for me.
"I take thy gold-but I have made thy fetters fast and strong,
And ween that by the cocoa-shade thy wife will wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook the captive's frame to hear,
And the proud meaning of his look was changed to mortal fear.
His heart was broken-crazed his brain; at once his eye grew wild;
He struggled fiercely with his chain, whispered, and wept, and smiled:
Yet wore not long those fatal bands; for soon, at close of day,
They drew him forth upon the sands, the foul hyena's prey.

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"ROOM for the leper! room!"-And as he came the cry passed on "Room for the leper! room!”Sunrise was slanting on the city's gates, rosy and beautiful; and from the hills the early-risen poor were coming in, duly and cheerfully, to their toil; and up rose the sharp hammer's clink, and the far hum of moving wheels, and multitudes astir, and all that in a city murmur swells-unheard but by the watcher's weary ear, aching with night's dull silence; or the sick, hailing the welcome light and sounds, that chase the death-like images of the dark away.-" Room for the leper!"-And aside they stood-matron, and child, and pitiless manhood,-all who met him on his wayand let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, a leper with the ashes on his brow, sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip a covering,-stepping painfully and slow; and, with a difficult utterance, like one whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, crying, "Unclean! unclean!"

'Twas now the first of the Judean autumn; and the leaves, whose shadows lay so still upon his path, had put their beauty forth beneath the eye of Judah's loftiest noble. He was young, and eminently beautiful; and life mantled in elegant fulness on his lip, and sparkled in his glance; and in his mien there was a gracious pride that every eye followed with benisons; —AND THIS WAS HE!-With the soft airs of summer there had come a torpor on his frame, a drowsy sloth. Day after day he lay as if in sleep; his skin grew dry and bloodless, and white scales, circled with livid purple, covered him.—And Helon was a leper! He put off his costly raiment for the leper's garb, and, with the sackcloth round him, and his lip hid in a loathsome covering, stood still-waiting to hear his doom :-" Depart ! depart, O child of Israel, from the

temple of thy God; for He has smote thee with His chastening rod, and to the desert wild, from all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, that from thy plague His people may be free. Depart! and come not near the busy mart, the crowded city, more; nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er; and stay thou not to hear voices that call thee in the way; and fly from all who in the wilderness pass by. Wet not thy burning lip in streams that to a human dwelling glide; nor rest thee where the covert fountains bide; nor kneel thee down to dip the water where the pilgrim bends to drink, by desert well, or river's grassy brink. And pass thou not between the weary traveller and the cooling breeze, and lie not down to sleep beneath the trees where human tracks are seen; nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. And now depart! and, when thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him, who, from the tribes of men, selected thee to feel His chastening rod. Depart, O leper! and forget not God!"

And he went forth-alone! Not one of all the many whom he loved, nor she whose name was woven in the fibres of his heart, breaking within him now, to come and speak comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, sick, and heart-broken, and alone to die! for God had cursed the leper!

It was noon, and Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool in the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, hot with the burning leprosy, and touched the loathsome water to his fevered lips; praying that he might be so blest-to die! Footsteps approached; and, with no strength to flee, he drew the covering closer on his lip, crying, "Unclean! unclean"! and, in the folds of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, he fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the stranger

came, and, bending o'er the leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name, "Helon!"-The voice was like the master-tone of a rich instrument,-most strangely sweet; and the dull pulses of disease awoke, and, for a moment, beat beneath the hot and leprous scales with a restoring thrill!" Helon! arise!"—and he forgot his curse, and rose and stood before Him.

Love and awe mingled in the regard of Helon's eye, as he beheld the Stranger. He was not in costly raiment clad, nor on His brow the symbol of a princely lineage wore; no followers at His back-nor in His hand buckler, or sword, or spear;-yet, if He smiled, a kingly condescension graced His lips. His garb was simple, and His sandals worn; His stature modelled with a perfect grace; His countenance the impress of a God, touched with the opening innocence of a child; His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky in the serenest noon; His hair unshorn fell to His shoulders; and His curling beard the fulness of perfected manhood bore. He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, as if His heart were moved; and, stooping down, He took a little water in His hand, and laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean!" And lo! the scales fell from him; and his blood coursed with delicious coolness through his veins; his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow the dewy softness of an infant's stole; his leprosy was cleansed; and he fell down prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped Him.

THE DOWIE DENS O' YARROW.

OLD SCOTTISH BALLAD.

LATE at e'en drinking the wine, and ere they paid the lawin',
They set a combat them between, to fecht it at the daw'in'.

"You took oor sister for your wife, and thocht her not your marrow : You stole her frae her faither's back, when she was the Rose o' Yarrow." "I took your sister for my wife, and I made her my marrow;

I gat her frae her faither's hand, and she's still the Rose o' Yarrow."

"What though you be oor sister's lord, we'll cross oor swords to-morrow." "And though my wife your sister be, I'll meet wi' you on Yarrow." Hame he has to his ladye gane; says, "Madam, on the morrow, I've pledged mysel to keep a tryste on the bonnie Banks o' Yarrow." “Oh, stay at hame, my lord!” she said, “oh, stay, my ain dear marrow! My cruel brithers will you slay, on the dowie Dens o' Yarrow." "Now, haud your tongue, my ladye dear, for what needs a' this sorrow? For if I gae, I'll sune return frae the bonnie Banks o' Yarrow." She kissed his cheek, she kaimed his hair-her heart foreboded sorrow: She belted him wi' his gude brand, and he's awa' to Yarrow. As he gaéd up the Tennies bank, -I wot he gaed wi' sorrow-It's there he spied nine armed men, on the dowie Dens o' Yarrow.

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'Oh, come ye here to hunt or hawk the bonnie forest thorough?
Or come ye here to part your land, upon the Banks o' Yarrow?
"I come not here to hunt or hawk the bonnie forest thorough;
Nor come I here to part my land, but to fecht wi' you on Yarrow."
"If you attack me nine to ane, then may God send you sorrow:
Yet will I fecht while lasts this brand, on the bonnie Banks o' Yarrow."
Four has he hurt, and five has slain, on the bluidy Braes o' Yarrow;
When a coward loon cam him behind, and ran his body thorough.
“Gae hame, gae hame, gude-brither John, tak' to your sister sorrow:
Gae hame, and tell my ladye dear that I sleep sound on Yarrow."
Her brither John oot ower the hill gaed wi' that word o' sorrow,
And there he met his sister fair, was rinnin' fast to Yarrow.
"O gentle wind, that blaweth south, from where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth, and tell me how he fareth!
I dreamt a dreary dream, yestreen-God keep us a' frae sorrow-
I dreamt I pu'ed the birk sae green, wi' my true love on Yarrow."
"I'll read your dream, my sister dear, I'll read it unto sorrow:
You pu'ed the birk wi' your true love? He's killed! he's killed on
Yarrow!"

She's torn the ribbons frae her head, that were baith braid and narrow;
And ower the hill she ran wi' speed, to the dowie Dens o' Yarrow.
She's taen him in her arms twa, and gi'en him kisses thorough:
She sought to bind his mony wounds-but he lay deid on Yarrow.
She kissed his lips. she kaimed his hair, wi' mickle dule and sorrow;
Syne wi' a sigh her heart did break, on the dowie Dens o' Yarrow.

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.-(Leigh Hunt.)

KING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking with his court;
The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side,

And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed :
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show-
Valour and love, and a King above, and the royal beasts below.

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