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The flames rolled on-he would not go

Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud : "Say, father! say

If yet my task is done!
He knew not that the chieftain lay

Unconscious of his son.

‘Speak, father !' once again he cried,

'If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waying hair,
And looked from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair;

And shouted but once more aloud :

• My father! must I stay ?' While o'er him fast through sail and shroud

The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child

Like banners in the sky.

Then came a burst of thunder-sound

The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around

With fragments strewed the sea

With mast and helm and pennon fair,

That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young faithful heart.

Mrs Hemans.

1 L'Orient, the vessel which Admiral

Brueys himself commanded at the battle of the Nile, was equipped with one hundred and twenty guns. Some time after darkness set in, it was seen to be on fire. |

Nelson gave orders that the crew should be saved by English boats. Many were thus rescued, but the commodore Casabianca and his brave little son, only ten years of age, were among the dead.

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. King Francis 2 was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport ; And one day, as his lions fought, sat, looking on, the 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 showValour and love and a king above, and the royal beasts 3


Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams—a wind went

with their paws : With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled on one

another, Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous

smother; The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the

air; Said Francis then : ‘Faith! gentlemen, we're better here

than there !

De Lorge's love o’erheard the king—a beauteous lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always

seemed the same.

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She thought: The Count my lover is brave as brave can


He surely would do wondrous things to shew his love of.

me : King, ladies, lovers, all look on ; the occasion is divine ! I'll drop my glove, to prove his love ; great glory will be


She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked at him

and smiled ; He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild. The leap was quick, return was quick-he has regained the

placeThen threw the glove—but not with love-right in the lady's

face. “In truth,' cried Francis, 'rightly done !' and he rose from

where he sat ; “No love,' quoth he,' but vanity, sets love a task like that!'

Leigh Hunt.

1 King Francis, Francis I. of France, 2 Sat, looking on, the Court. The Court

who obtains a niche in English sat looking on. history as the royal compeer of | 3 Royal beasts, so styled because the Henry VIII. on the 'Field of the lion is held to be the king of the Cloth of Gold.'



The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest, when summer is green,
That host, with their banners, at sunset were seen :
Like the leaves of the forest, when autumn hath blown,
That host, on the morrow, lay withered and strown.

For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed on the face of the foe as he passed :

And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride :
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ;
The tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Asshur 2 are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ;3
And the might of the Gentile,4 unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord !


1 Sennacherib was the most powerful

of Assyrian monarchs; he invaded Palestine in the time of Hezekiah for the purpose of preventing the union of the Hebrew and Egyptian armies. After the fearful overthrow narrated in the poem, he was assassinated by two of his sons

(2 Chron. xxxii. 21). 2 Asshur was the second son of Shem,

and gave his name to the vast

territory of Assyria. 3 Baal, Bel, or Belus was, in one form or

other, the supreme god of the Phænicians, Carthaginians, Syri

ans, and many other nations. 4 Gentile. This term was applied to all

who did not belong to the Jewish nation.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. Our bugles sang trucel-for the night-cloud had lowered, 2

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet 3 of straw,

By the wolf-scaring fagot 4 that guarded the slain ; At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again.

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Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array,

Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track; 'Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant field, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore,

From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart:

"Stay, stay with us—rest, thou art weary and worn ;'

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stayBut sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ears melted away.


1 Bagles sang truce, gave the signal to 1 3 Pallet, couch or bed. cease fighting for a time.

4 Wolf-scaring fagot, a fire lighted to 2 The night-cloud had lowered, darkness frighten away wolves. had set in.

| 5 Life's morning march, boyhood.

I stood on the bridge at midnight,

As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city,

Behind the dark church-tower.

I saw her bright reflection

In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling

And sinking into the sea.

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