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'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,

Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave!
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few, shall part, where many meet:
The snow shall be their winding sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

WATERLOO.

BY LORD BYRON.

THERE was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd 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 look'd 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; 't was 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 Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear 'That 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.

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, 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 night 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 !"

And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering "

rose..

The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon

foes :

How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills

The mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instils

The stirring memory of a thousand years; And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave, alas!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valour, rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay,

the day

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife,
The morn the marshalling in arms,-
Battle's magnificently stern array !

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, The earth is covered thick with other clay,

Which her own clay thall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, - friend, foe,

blent.

in one red burial

THE MONKEY.

BY MARY HOWITT.

MONKEY, little merry fellow,
Thou art nature's punchinello !
Full of fun as Puck could be;
Harlequin might learn of thee!

Saw

you

Look now at his odd grimaces!
e'er such comic faces?
Now like learned judge sedate;
Now with nonsense in his pate!

Nature, in a sunny wood,
Must have been in merry mood,
And with laughter fit to burst,
Monkey, when she made thee first.

How you leaped and frisked about
When

your life you

first found out;

How you threw in roguish mirth,

Cocoa nuts on mother earth;

How you sat and made a din

Louder than had ever been,
Till the parrots all a-riot
Chattered too to keep you quiet

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