Ex. LXXVI.-THE MARCH OF DEL CARPIO.

LOCKHART.

WITH three thousand men of Leon, from the city Bernard

goes,

To protect the soil Hispanian from the spear of Frankish foes: From the city which is planted in the midst between the seas, To preserve the name and glory of old Pelayo's victories.

The peasant hears upon his field the trumpet of the knight,— He quits his team for spear and shield and garniture of might; The shepherd hears it 'mid the mist,-he flingeth down his crook,

And rushes from the mountain like a tempest-troubled brook.

The youth who shows a maiden's chin, whose brows have ne'er been bound

The helmet's heavy ring within, gains manhood from the sound;

The hoary sire beside the fire forgets his feebleness,

Once more to feel the cap of steel a warrior's ringlets press.

As through the glen his spears did gleam, these soldiers from the hills,

They swelled his host as mountain-stream receives the roar

ing rills;

They round his banner flocked in scorn of haughty Charle

magne,

And thus upon their swords are sworn the faithful sons of Spain.

"Free were we born," 'tis thus they cry,-"though to our king we owe

The homage and the fealty behind his crest to go;

By God's behest our aid he shares, but God did ne'er com

mand

That we should leave our children heirs of an enslavéd land.

"Our breasts are not so timorous, nor are our arms so weak, Nor are our veins so bloodless, that we our vow should break, To sell our freedom for the fear of prince or paladin;

At least we'll sell our birthright dear,--no bloodless prize they'll win.

"At least King Charles, if God decrees he must be lord of Spain,

Shall witness that the Leonese were not aroused in vain;
He shall bear witness that we died as lived our sires of old,—
Nor only of Numantium's pride shall minstrel tales be told.

"The LION that hath bathed his paws in seas of Libyan gore,
Shall he not battle for the laws and liberties of yore?
Anointed cravens may give gold to whom it likes them well,
But steadfast heart and spirit bold Alphonso ne'er shall sell.

LXXVII. MACLAINE'S CHILD

MACKAY.

"MACLAINE! you've scourged me like a hound;—
You should have struck me to the ground;
You should have played a chieftain's part,-
You should have stabbed me to the heart.

"You should have crushed me into death;-
But here I swear with living breath,
That for this wrong which you have done,
I'll wreak my vengeance on your son,—

"On him, and you, and all your race!"—
He said, and bounding from his place,
He seized the child with sudden hold-
A smiling infant, three years old.

And, starting like a hunted stag,
He scaled the rock, he clomb the crag,
And reached, o'er many a wide abyss,
The beetling seaward precipice.

And, leaning o'er its topmost ledge,
He held the infant o'er the edge :—
"In vain the wrath, thy sorrow vain;
No hand shall save it, proud Maclaine!"

With flashing eye and burning brow,
The mother followed, heedless how,
O'er crags with mosses overgrown,
And stair-like juts of slippery stone;

But, midway up the rugged steep,
She found a chasm she could not leap,
And, kneeling on its brink, she raised
Her supplicating hands, and gazed.

"Oh! spare my child, my joy, my pride;
Oh! give me back my child!" she cried:
"My child! my child!" with sobs and tears,
She shrieked upon his callous ears.

"Come, Evan," said the trembling chief,-
His bosom wrung with pride and grief,-
"Restore the boy, give back my son,
And I'll forgive the wrong you've done!"

"I scorn forgiveness, haughty man!
You've injured me before the clan;
And nought but blood shall wipe away
The shame I have endured to-day."

And, as he spoke, he raised the child,
To dash it 'mid the breakers wild,
But, at the mother's piercing cry,
Drew back a step, and made reply:

"Fair lady, if your lord will strip,
And let a clansman wield the whip;
Till skin shall flay, and blood shall run,
I'll give you back your little son."

The lady's cheek grew pale with ire,
The chieftain's eyes flashed sudden fire;
He drew a pistol from his breast,

Took aim, then dropped it, sore distressed.

"I might have slain my babe instead.
Come, Evan, come," the father said,
And through his heart a tremor ran;
"We'll fight our quarrel man to man."

"Wrong unavenged I've never borne,"
Said Evan, speaking loud in scorn;
"You've heard my answer, proud Maclaine:
I will not fight you,-think again."

The lady stood in mute despair,

With freezing blood and stiffening hair;
She moved no limb, she spoke no word ;--
She could but look. upon her lord.

He saw the quivering of her eye,
Pale lips and speechless agony,-
And, doing battle with his pride,
"Give back the boy,-I yield,” he cried.
A storm of passion shook his mind,—
Anger, and shame, and love combined
But love prevailed, and, bending low,
He bared his shoulders to the blow.

"I smite you," said the clansman true;
"Forgive me, chief, the deed I do!
For by yon Heaven that hears me speak,
My dirk in Evan's heart shall reek!"

But Evan's face beamed hate and joy;
Close to his breast he hugged the boy:
"Revenge is just, revenge is sweet,
And mine, Lochbuy, shall be complete."

Ere hand could stir, with sudden shock,
He threw the infant o'er the rock,—
Then followed with a desperate leap,
Down fifty fathoms to the deep.

They found their bodies in the tide;
And never till the day she died

Was that sad mother known to smile :-
The Niobe of Mulla's isle.

They dragged false Evan from the sea,
And hanged him on a gallows tree;
And ravens fattened on his brain,
To sate the vengeance of Maclaine.

Ex. LXXVIII.—CHARACTER OF CHATHAM.

GRATTAN.

THE secretary stood alone; modern degeneracy had not reached him. Original, and unaccommodating, the features ·

of his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind overawed majesty; and one of his sovereigns thought royalty so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him, in order to be relieved from his superiority. No state chicanery, no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the vulgar level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, he destroyed party; without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous.

France sank beneath him. With one hand, he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded, with the other, the democracy of England. The sight of his mind was infinite; and his schemes were to affect, not England, and the present age only, but Europe, and posterity. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were accomplished; always seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding animated by ardor, and enlightened by prophecy.

The ordinary feelings which render life amiable and indolent were unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domestic weakness reached him; but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came, occasionally, into our system, to counsel and to decide. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, and so authoritative, astonished a corrupt age; and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Corruption imagined, indeed, that she had found defects in this statesman; and talked much of the ruin of his victories; but the history of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, refuted her.

Nor were his political abilities his only talents: his eloquence was an era in the senate; peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments, and instinctive wisdom; not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully, it resembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation, nor was he, like Townshend, for ever on the rack of exertion; but, rather, lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by flashings of the mind, which, like those of his eye, were felt, but could not be followed.

Upon the whole, there was something in this man that could create, subvert, or reform; an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wilder