Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay, "You choose to rival me, And court Miss Bell; but there your court "Unless you now give up your suit, You may repent your love ;I, who have shot a pigeon match, Can shoot a turtle dove. "So, pray, before you woo her more, Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray, "Your threats I do explode ;.One who has been a volunteer Knows how to prime and load. "And so I say to you, unless Now gold is oft for silver changed, But first they found a friend apiece, This pleasant thought to give That when they both were dead, they 'd have Two seconds yet to live. To measure out the ground, not long The seconds next forbore; And having taken one rash step, They took a dozen more. They next prepared each pistol pan, Now all was ready for the foes; Said Mr. C. to Mr. B., "Here one of us may fall, "I do confess I did attach If I withdraw the charge, will then Said Mr. B., "I do agree ;- If we go off without a shot, There will be strange reports. "But look! the morning now is bright, Why can't we aim above, as if And a thousand dark nobles all bend at his board ;— And the beauty that maddens the passions of earth; Till the vast roofs ring, "All praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar, the king!" "Bring forth," cries the monarch, "the vessels of gold, "Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar, the king!" Now, what cometh ?-look, look!-Without menace, or call, Who writes, with the lightning's bright hand, on the wall? What pierceth the king, like the point of a dart? What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart? They are read;—and Belshazzar is dead on the ground! On a conqueror's wing; And a Mede's on the throne of Belshazzar, the king. Ex. XLI.-DIRGE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL. SOFTLY, peacefully, Lay her to rest; On her young Gently, solemnly, breast ; Bend o'er the bed Where ye have pillowed Thus early her head. Plant a young willow Sprinkle fresh buds there ; Beauty and bloom. Let a bright fountain, Limpid and clear, ANON. Murmur its music, (Smile through a tear,) Where the loved lies,— Like angels' eyes. Then shall the bright birds On golden wing, Murmuring sing; Then shall the soft breeze Pensively sigh, Lay the sod lightly Över her breast ;- She was but given, A fair bud to earth, To blossom in heaven. Ex. XLII.-THE PILGRIM FATHERS. THE pilgrim fathers-where are they? Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day, The mists that wrapped the pilgrim's sleep, J. PIERPONT. And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, But the snow- When the heavens looked dark, is gone;— As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, The pilgrim exile-sainted name! Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night, Still lies where he laid his houseless head;- The pilgrim fathers are at rest: When summer's throned on high, And the world's warm breast is in verdure drest, The earliest ray of the golden day On that hallowed spot is cast; And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, The pilgrim spirit has not fled- And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, And shall guard this ice-bound shore, Till the waves of the bay, where the May-flower lay, Ex. XLIII-REPUBLICS. H. S. LEGARE. THE name of REPUBLIC is inscribed upon the most imperishable monuments of the species; and it is probable that it will continue to be associated, as it has been in all past ages, with whatever is heroic in character, and sublime in genius, and elegant and brilliant in the cultivation of arts and letters. It would not be difficult to prove that the base hirelings who have so industriously inculcated a contrary doctrine have been compelled to falsify history and abuse reason. *Pronounced, "Legree." |