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When the war-cry of Argentine

Fell faintly on his ear!

'Save, save his life,' he cried, 'O save
The kind, the noble, and the brave!'
The squadrons round free passage gave,
The wounded knight drew near.

He raised his red-cross shield no more,

Helm, cuish, and breastplate streamed with gore,
Yet, as he saw the King advance,

He strove e'en then to couch his lance-
The effort was in vain!

The spur-stroke failed to rouse the horse;
Wounded and weary, in mid-course
He stumbled on the plain.

Then foremost was the generous Bruce
To raise his head, his helm to loose :
'Lord Earl, the day is thine!
My Sovereign's charge, and adverse fate,
Have made our meeting all too late :
Yet this may Argentine,

As boon from ancient comrade, crave-
A Christian's mass, a soldier's grave!'

Bruce pressed his dying hand-its grasp
Kindly replied: but, in his clasp,
It stiffened and grew cold.

And, 'Oh, farewell!' the victor cried,
'Of chivalry the flower and pride,
The arm in battle bold,

The courteous mien, the noble race,
The stainless faith, the manly face!
Bid Ninian's convent light their shrine,
For late-wake of De Argentine.
O'er better knight on death-bier laid,
Torch never gleamed nor mass was said!'

Nor for De Argentine alone

Through Ninian's church these torches shone,

And rose the death-prayer's awful tone.

That yellow lustre glimmered pale,

On broken plate and bloodied mail,
Rent crest and shattered coronet,
Of baron, earl, and banneret;

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And the best names that England knew,
Claimed in the death-prayer dismal due.
Yet mourn not, land of fame!
Though ne'er the leopards on thy shield

Y

Retreated from so sad a field,

Oft

Since Norman William came,
may thine annals justly boast
Of battles stern by Scotland lost;
Grudge not her victory,

When for her freeborn rights she strove;
Rights dear to all who freedom love,
To none so dear as thee!

Lord of the Isles.

APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN.

(Lord Byron.)

[Born, 1788; died, 1824. Chief works: Hours of Idleness,' 'English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,'' Childe Harold,' The Giaour,' 'The Bride of Abydos,' "The Corsair,' 'Lara,' 'Manfred,' ' Don Juan,' ' Prisoner of Chillon,' &c.]

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar;
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Roll on thou deep, and dark blue Ocean, roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain,
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown!

His steps are on thy paths-thy fields
Are not a spoil for him-thou dost arise

And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields
For earth's destruction thou dost all despise,

Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray,
And howling to his gods, where haply lies,
His petty hope in some near port or bay,

And dashest him again to earth; there let him lay!

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake

And monarchs tremble in their capitals,—
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war:

These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee—
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, where are they?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage, their decay,
Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou;
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play,
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow;
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now,

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime,

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime—
The image of Eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone!
And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers-they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror-'twas a pleasing fear;
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane-as I do here.

Childe Harold.

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY,

On turning one down with the plough in April 1786.

(Robert Burns.)

[Born, 1759; died, 1796. Chief works: 'Cotter's Saturday Night,' 'Tam O'Shanter,' The Jolly Beggars,' &c.]

Wee modest crimson-tipped flower,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crush amang the stoure,

Thy slender stem:

To spare thee now is past my power,
Thou bonnie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
The bonnie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet!
Wi' speckled breast,

When upward-springing, blithe, to greet
The purpling east.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early humble birth:
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,

Scarce reared above the parent earth
Thy tender form.

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,
High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield,
But thou, beneath the random bield

O' clod or stane,

Adorns the histie stubble-field,

Unseen, alane.

There in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snowy bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;

But now the share upturns thy bed,
And low thou lies.

Such is the fate of artless maid,
Sweet floweret of the rural shade!
By love's simplicity betrayed,

And guileless trust,

Till she, like thee, all soiled is laid,
Low i' the dust.

Such is the fate of simple bard,
On life's rough ocean, luckless starred !
Unskilful he to note the card

Of prudent lore,

Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
And whelm him o'er!

Such fate to suffering worth is given,
Who long with wants and woes has striven,

By human pride or cunning driven
To misery's brink,

Till wrenched of every stay but Heaven,
He, ruined, sink!

Even those who mourn'st the daisy's fate,
That fate is thine-no distant date,
Stern ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,

Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight,
Shall be thy doom.

MENSURATION.

Bricklayers' work measured by the rod :

(1) How many rods of brickwork are there in a wall 48 ft. long, 12 ft. high, and 2 bricks thick?

(2) How many rods of brickwork are there in a wall 65 ft. long, 13 ft. 10 in. high, and 2 bricks thick?

(3) If . wall be 985 ft. long, 6 ft. high, and 3 bricks thick, what will it cost at £2 10s. 6d. per rod?

(4) How many rods are contained in a room 35 ft. long, 11 ft. high, 18 ft. broad, the gable at the ends measuring 9 ft. 6 in. in height, and the walls being 1 brick thick? And what will it cost at £3 28. per rod?

THE INFLUENCE OF THE GULF STREAM ON CLIMATE AND COMMERCE.

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(From the Physical Geography of the Sea,' by Captain Maury.)

ap-prox'-i-mate (v.), to draw near to tor-rid, violently hot, parched

ze-ro, the point on the thermometer which is marked 0°

lit'-to-ral, belonging to the shore hab'-i-tat, a dwelling

ar-chi-pel'-a-go, a sea abounding in small islands

zone, a girdle, a division of the earth trop'-ics, that portion of the earth which extends 23 degrees north and south of the equator

MODERN INGENUITY has suggested a beautiful mode of warming houses in winter. It is done by means of hot water. The furnace and the caldron are sometimes placed at a distance from the apartments to be warmed. It is so at the Washington Observatory. In this case, pipes are used to conduct the heated water from the caldron under the superintendent's dwelling over into one of the basement-rooms of the Observatory, a distance of one hundred feet. These pipes are then flared out so as to present a large cooling surface; after which they are united into one again, through which the water, being now cooled, returns of its own accord to the caldron. Thus

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