There was a look of horror flashed
From out the tutor's eyes:
When all around him rose to pray,
The stranger did not rise!

A murmur broke along the crowd,
The prayer was at an end,
With ringing heels and measured tread
A hundred forms descend.

Through sounding aisle, o'er grated stair,
The long procession formed,
Till all were gathered on the seats
Around the common's board.

That fearful stranger! down he sat
Unasked, yet undismayed;
And on his lips a rising smile
Of scorn or pleasure played.

He took his hat and hung it up,
With slow but earnest air;

He stripped his coat from off his back,
And placed it on a chair.

Then from his nearest neighbor's side
A knife and plate he drew;
And, reaching out his hand again,
He took his tea-cup too.

How fled the sugar from the bowl!
How sunk the azure cream!

They vanished like the shapes that float
Upon a summer dream.

A long, long draught,—an out-stretched hand,And crackers, toast, and tea,

They faded from the stranger's touch,

Like dew upon the sea.

Then clouds were dark on many a brow,

Fear sat upon their souls,

And, in a bitter agony,

They clasped their buttered rolls.

A whisper trembled through the crowd,—
Who could the stranger be?

And some were silent, for they thought
A cannibal was he.

What, if the creature should arise,-
For he was stout and tall,-
And swallow down a sophomore,
Coat, crowsfoot, cap, and all!

All suddenly the stranger rose;
They sat in mute despair;
He took his hat from off the peg,
His coat from off the chair.

Four freshmen fainted on the seat,
Six swooned upon the floor;
Yet on the fearful being passed,
And shut the chapel door.

There is full many a starving man,
That walks in bottle-green,
But never more that hungry one
In Common's-hall was seen.

Yet often at the sunset hour,
When tolls the evening bell,
The freshman lingers on the steps
That frightful tale to tell.

Ex. CXIX.-DEATH OF AGUILAR.

FERNANDO, King of Aragon, before Granada lies,

LOCKHART

With dukes and barons many a one, and champions of em

prise;

With all the captains of Castile that serve his lady's crown, He drives Boabdil from his gates, and plucks the crescent

down.

The cross is reared upon the towers, for our Redeemer's sake: The king assembles all his powers, his triumph to partake.

Yet at the royal banquet, there's trouble in his eye:"Now speak thy wish, it shall be done, great king!" the lordlings cry.

Then spake Fernando:-"Hear, grandees! which of ye all will go,

And give my banner in the breeze of Alpuxar to blow? Those heights along, the Moors are strong; now who, by dawn of day,

Will plant the cross their cliffs among, and drive the dogs a· way ?",

Then champion on champion high, and count on count doth

look;

And faltering is the tongue of lord, and pale the cheek of

duke;

Till starts up brave Alonzo, the knight of Aguilar,

The lowmost at the royal board, but foremost still in war.

And thus he speaks:-"I pray, my lord, that none but I may

go;

For I made promise to the queen, your consort, long ago, That ere the war should have an end, I, for her royal charms, And for my duty to her grace, would show some feat of arms!"

Much joyed the king these words to hear,-he bids Alonzo speed;

And long before their revel's o'er the knight is on his steed; Alonzo's on his milk-white steed, with horsemen in his train, A thousand horse, a chosen band, ere dawn the hills to gain.

They ride along the darkling ways, they gallop all the night; They reach Nevada ere the cock hath harbingered the light; But ere they've climbed that steep ravine, the east is glowing red,

And the Moors their lances bright have seen, and Christian banners spread.

Beyond the sands, between the rocks, where the oid cork-trees

grow,

The path is rough, and mounted men must singly march and

slow;

There, o'er the path, the heathen range their ambuscado's

line,

High up they wait for Aguilar, as the day begins to shine.

There naught avails the eagle eye the guardian of Castile, The eye of wisdom, nor the heart that fear might never feel, The arm of strength that wielded well the strong mace in the

fray,

Nor the broad plate from whence the edge of falchion glanced away.

Not knightly valor there avails, nor skill of horse and spear; For rock on rock comes rumbling down from cliff and cavern

drear;

Down, down like driving hail they come, and horse and horsemen die

Like cattle whose despair is dumb when the fierce lightnings fly.

Alonzo, with a handful more, escapes into the field,

There, like a lion, stands at bay, in vain besought to yield; A thousand foes around are seen, but none draws near to fight:

Afar, with bolt and javelin, they pierce the steadfast knight.
A hundred and a hundred darts are hissing round his head,-
Had Aguilar a thousand hearts, their blood had all been shed;
Faint and more faint he staggers upon the slippery sod,-
At last his back is to the earth, he gives his soul to God.

Ex. CXX.-SONG OF THE VERMONTERS.

The following spirited verses are taken from the life of that brave nau and true patriot, Ethan Allen, and allude to the contest going on in 1780, between Vermont, New York, and New Hampshire, with reference to the separate existence of Vermont as an independent state. The contest was kept up to the close of the Revolution. Congress being unable to settle it, General Washington took it in hand, and his candor and good sense effected, through Gov. Chittenden, what Congress could not have done.

J. G. WHITTIER.

Ho! all to the borders! Vermonters, come down,
With your breeches of deer-skin, and jackets of brown;
With your red woollen caps, and your moccasins, come,
To the gathering summons of trumpet and drum!

Come down with your rifles!-let gray wolf and fox
Howl on in the shade of their primitive rocks;
Let the bear feed securely from pig-pen and stall;
Here's two-legged game for your powder and ball!

On our south come the Dutchmen, enveloped in grease;
And arming for battle, while canting of peace;

On our east, crafty Meshech has gathered his band,
To hang up our leaders, and eat out our land.

Ho!-all to the rescue! For Satan shall work
No gains for his legions of Hampshire and York!
They claim our possessions-the pitiful knaves-
The tribute we pay shall be prisons and graves!

Let Clinton and Ten Broeck, with bribes in their hands,
Still seek to divide us, and parcel our lands;

We've coats for our traitors, whoever they are;

The warp

is of FEATHERS-the filling of TAR!

Does the "Old Bay State" threaten?-does Congress complain?

Swarms Hampshire in arms on our borders again?

Bark the war-dogs of Britain aloud on the lake?

Let them come !-what they CAN, they are welcome to take.

What seek they among us?—The pride of our wealth
Is comfort, contentment, and labor and health:
And lands which, as freemen, we only have trod,
Independent of all, save the mercies of God.

Yet we owe no allegiance; we bow to no throne;
Our ruler is law, and the law is our own;
Our leaders themselves are our own fellow-men,
Who can handle the sword, the scythe, or the per.

Our wives are all true, and our daughters are fair,
With their blue eyes of smiles, and their light flowing hair,
All brisk at their wheels till the dark even-fall!

Then blithe at the sleigh-ride; the husking and ball!

We've sheep on the hill-sides; we've cows on the plain,
And gay-tasseled cornfields, and rank-growing grain;
There are deer on the mountains, and wood-pigeons fly
From the crack of our muskets, like clouds in the sky.

And there's fish in our streamlets and rivers, which take
Their course from the hills to our broad-bosomed lake;
Through rock-arched Winooski the salmon leaps free,
And the portly shad follows all fresh from the sea.