And slow, as in a dream of bliss
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
The shadow as it falls
Upon the darkening walls.
As if a door in heaven should be
Opened, and then closed suddenly,
The vision came and went;
The light shone, and was spent.
On England's annals, through the long
Hereafter of her speech and song,
That light its rays shall cast,
From portals of the past.
A lady with a lamp shall stand
In the great history of the land:-
A noble type of good
Heroic womanhood.
Nor even shall be wanting here
The palm, the lily, and the spear—
The symbols that of yore
Saint Filomena bore.-H. W. LONGFellow.
THE HIGHLANDERS AND HAVELOCK.
It was sixteen hundred rank and file with native levies made,
Two thousand men of horse and foot, true each as his good blade;
And at their head rode Havelock, his fearless forehead bare-
His warrior locks, worn thin and white, waving with every air.
Well knew that noble General what gallant souls he led,-
Right well his stalwart Highlanders knew too that snowy head:
And through the night, by that pale light, forward the columns strode
Over the yawning nullah and along the deep sand road,
Fording the rain-swelled river-wave, breasting the weary hill,
One thought alone in every heart, one purpose working still:"
To reach betimes the battle, and their 'leagured brothers save,
Or bring the villain slayers to their victims' bloody grave.
And left and right the scouts come in, and tell of squadrons near,
But check no forward footsteps, and raise no thought of fear,
Till the shrill jungle-chicken's cry hailed the day's rosy sign,
And the gray light of morning showed the grim rebel line.
Out spoke our gallant leader, "Look! yonder goes the way
To where ouro'erpressed brothers stand, and where the butchers slay-
And in our road the knaves stand thick; wherefore, as you may see,
Our path lies through their ranks, and carved shall quickly be."
They only rested from the march a thirty minutes space,
Then rose and met their swarming foes in the sun's bright'ning face;
And long before the dew was dry, or sounds of morning still,
The rattle of the strife was done the slaves flew o'er the hill.
Onward again-the good grey head foremost in fight and march, While the sun's blazing gold burned up, through heaven's cloudless arch.
No hoarse command, no need of hand, nor voice in all their way,
To bid them close these dust-clad files, to keep their just array;
The hope that bears their captain on, the rage that scorneth rest,
Throbs in the soldier's honest heart, burns in the drummer's breast-
Lightens the load of lance and gun, the weight of ringing steel,
Whose biting ball and sharp swift fall, the assassin soon shall feel.
Now sinketh in the tall cane-brake, the long thin line of spears;
Now on the crest the vengeful gleam of bayonets appears;
Now from his lair in rock and cave, the opposing foe they thrust
And pass, but leave along the rear the battle's blood and dust;
By night, by day, without a stay, right onward rolled their band,
Till under Cawnpore's wall they met the fierce lord of that land.
Scant time of breath-life and black death hang on the passing hour;
The thunder breaks less sullenly, when heavy storm-clouds lour,
Than breaks on those dark traitorous files, the fury of the few
Whose eager eyes behold at last the sought-for caitiff crew;
Once only, as the dastard crowd their heavy cannon plied,
And swept with hissing hail of grape the green hills level side,
But once they paused, and crouching down under that deadly rain,
Waited with noble patience that mocked at grief and pain-
Waited, till, waving the true steel, brave Havelock cried aloud,
"Enough, boys; up! take out these guns and clear away this
crowd."
Then up they sprang, and high out rang the long, loud British cheer,-
The saddest sound on all the earth for the oppressor's ear;
And with set feet at equal beat, and steel at equal slant,
Like blood-hounds on the view halloo, all fanged and grim and gaunt,
Out flew they then, on rushed they then-a crash !—and once again
The Highlanders of Havelock held the red battle plain.
Oh, good grey head! that ever led first in the chase and charge,
With hand so true and valiant, and heart so sound and large-
Oh, faithful fighters for the right! what need to swell the page
With tale of blast by noonday's sun, and blight by plague's wild
rage!
I tell you, easy dwellers here, who own unused hands,
That nine times in the open field met they the rebel bands-
That nine times from the open fields they drove them howling far,
Each time, alas! grown weaker, with the wear of constant war;
I tell you, twice they stemmed the flow of Ganges at his swell,
Thrice on the farther bank gave fight, captured the cannon! Well!
God's ways are dark! The bravest men that ever worked his will,
Thinned by the battle and the pest, but all unbroken still,
Rest on their arms-soul weary all-but rest to rise anew,
And free their prisoned countrymen; as they will surely do,
If God see good to grace therewith, on this side of the grave,
The Highlanders of Havelock-the bravest of the brave.
Completed by the AGAMEMNON and NIAGARA, August 4, 1858.
O'er the blue watery plain,
O'er the Atlantic main,
Perfect, th' electric chain
Binds land to land.
Deep in old Ocean's heart,
Firm, this great work of art
Continents far apart
Knits with its band.
Bravely the ships of war,
Sailing the seas afar,
England's flag, Freedom's star
O'er them unfurl'd,
Deep in the sandy bed,
Under the ocean spread,
Uncoiled the iron thread,
Binding the world.
Far as the breeze may blow,
Far as the seas may flow,
Far as the day may glow,
Will the chain twine;
Till the Pacific tide
Shall the dark cable hide,
In its abysses wide,
In its salt brine.
Each throbbing beat of heart
In England's royal mart
Shall a swift thrill impart
O'er all the earth;
Under the mighty deep,
Over the mountain sweep,
Will each pulsation leap
Instantly forth.
England may speak the word,
"Peace!"-'twill be felt and heard,
Far as men's hearts are stirr'd,
To the world's end;
Far over India's strand,
Far o'er hot Afric's sand,
O'er the vast prairie land
Swift 'twill extend.
Long as the mystic cord
Weddeth with flashing word,
Swift as the lightning's sword,
Old World and New,
So may the hearts of men,
Thrill'd by this wondrous chain,
Soften❜d to love again,
Ever beat true.-ISAAC M'LELLAN.
Since the discovery of Columbus, nothing has been done in any degree comparable to the enlargment which has been given to the sphere of human activity by the success of this gigantic undertaking. We may,-now that this the most difficult problem of all has been solved-be justified in anticipating that there is no portion of the earth's surface which may not be placed in immediate communication with us. We now know that we have in our hands the means of ubiquity. Distance, as a ground of uncertainty, will be eliminated from the calculations of the statesmen and the merchant. It is no violent presumption to suppose, that within a very short period, we shall be able to present to our readers every morning, intelligence of what happened the day before in every quarter of the globe. We see, with not unnatural satisfaction, that the advantage of the discovery will be the greatest to those countries the possessions of which are the most remote; and therefore, that England has more to gain than any of her rivals. More was done by this wonderful event, for the consolidation of our empire, than the wisdom of our statesmen, the liberality of our Legislature, or the loyalty of our colonists could ever have effected. Distance between Canada and England is annihilated. For the purpose of mutual communication, and good understanding, the Atlantic is dried up, and we become in reality, as well as in wish, one country. Nor can any one regard with indifference the position in which the Atlantic Telegraph has placed us in regard to the great American Republic. It has half undone the declaration of 1775, and gone far to make us once again, in spite of ourselves, one people. To the ties of a common blood, language, and religion, to the ultimate association in business, and a complete sympathy on so many subjects, is now added the faculty of instantaneous communication, which to all these tendencies towards unity, must give an intensity which they never before could possess.-Times.
DIALOGUES, ORATIONS, NARRATIVE
MARCELLUS TO THE MOB.
Wherefore rejoice? that Cæsar comes in triumph?
What conquests brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O, you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome!
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows; yea, to chimney tops-
Your infants in your arms-and there have sat
The live-long day with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in his concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?-
Begone-
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude!-SHAKSPEARE.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar; so were you:
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
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