They brought a dark-haired man along,

Whose limbs with gyves of brass were bound; Youthful he seemed, and bold, and strong,

And yet unscathed of wound.

Blithely he stepped among the throng,
And careless threw around

A dark eye, such as courts the path
Of him, who braves a Dacian's wrath.

Then shouted the plebeian crowd,-
Rung the glad galleries with the sound;
And from the throne there spake aloud
A voice,-"Be the bold man unbound!
And, by Rome's scepter, yet unbowed,

By Rome, earth's monarch crowned,
Who dares the bold, the unequal strife,
Though doomed to death, shall save his life."

Joy was upon that dark man's face;
And thus, with laughing eye, spake he;
"Loose ye the lord of Zaara's waste,
And let my arms be free:

'He has a martial heart,' thou sayest ;-
But oh! who will not be

A hero, when he fights for life,

For home, and country, babes, and wife!"

And thus I for the strife prepare:
The Thracian falchion to me bring;

---

But ask th' imperial leave to spare
The shield, a useless thing.
Were I a Samnite's rage to dare,
Then o'er me would I fling

The broad orb; but to lion's wrath
The shield were but a sword of lath."

And he has bared his shining blade,
And springs he on the shaggy foe;
Dreadful the strife, but briefly played;-
The desert-king lies low:

His long and loud death-howl is made;
And there must end the show.
And when the multitude were calm,
The favorite freed man took the palm.

"Kneel down, Rome's emperor beside !"
He knelt, that dark man ;-o'er his brow
Was thrown a wreath in crimson died;
And fair words gilt it now:

"Thou art the bravest youth that ever tried
To lay a lion low;

And from our presence forth thou go'st
To lead the Dacians of our host."

Then flushed his cheek, but not with pride,
And grieved and gloomily spake he:
"My cabin stands where blithely glide
Proud Danube's waters to the sea:
I have a young and blooming bride,
And I have children three:-
No Roman wealth or rank can give
Such joy as in their arms to live.

My wife sits at the cabin door,

With throbbing heart and swollen eyes ;-
While tears her cheek are coursing o'er,
She speaks of sundered ties.

She bids my tender babes deplore
The death their father dies;
She tells these jewels of my home,
I bleed to please the rout of Rome.

I can not let those cherubs stray
Without their sire's protecting care;
And I would chase the griefs away
Which cloud my wedded fair."
The monarch spoke; the guards obey;
And gates unclosed are:

He's gone!-No golden bribes divide
The Dacian from his babes and bride.

Ex. LXXIV.-THE SHIPWRECK.

HER giant form,

O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm,

Majestically calm, would go,

'Mid the deep darkness, white as snow!

WILSON.

But gently now the small waves glide
Like playful lambs o'er a mountain side.
So stately her bearing, so proud her array,

The main she will traverse for ever and aye.

Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast.

Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last!

Five hundred souls, in one instant of dread,

Are hurried o'er the deck;

And fast the miserable ship

Becomes a lifeless wreck.

Her keel hath struck upon a hidden rock;

Her planks are torn asunder;

And down come her masts with a reeling shock,

And a hideous crash like thunder;

Her sails are draggled in the brine,

That gladdened late the skies;

And her pendant that kissed the fair moonshine,

Down many a fathom lies!

Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues

Gleamed softly from below,

And flung a warm and sunny flush

O'er the wreaths of murmuring snow,
To the coral rocks are hurrying down,
To sleep amid colors as bright as their own.
Oh! many a dream was in the ship
An hour before her death;

And sights of home with sighs disturbed
The sleeper's long-drawn breath.
Instead of the murmur of the sea,
The sailor heard the humming tree,
Alive through all its leaves,
The hum of the spreading sycamore
That grows before his cottage-door,
And the swallow's song in the eaves.
His arms enclosed a blooming boy,
Who listened with tears of sorrow and joy
To the dangers his father had passed;
And his wife, by turns she wept and smiled,
As she looked on the father of her child
Returned to her heart at last.-

He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll,
And the rush of waters is in his soul.-
Astounded the reeling deck he paces,
'Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces;-

The whole ship's crew are there :
Wailing around, and overhead,—
Brave spirits stupefied or dead,-
And madness and despair!

Now is the ocean's bosom bare,
Unbroken as the floating air;
The ship hath melted quite away,
Like a struggling dream at break of day

No image meets my wahdering eye

But the new-risen sun, and the sunny sky.

Though the night shades are gone, yet a vapor dull

Bedims the waves so beautiful;

While a low and melancholy moan

Mourns for the glory that hath flown!

Ex. LXXV.-A FRENCHMAN'S RECEIPT FOR RATSBANE.

A FRENCHMAN once, who was a merry wight,
Passing to town from Dover in the night,
Near the roadside an ale-house chanced to spy,
And being rather tired as well as dry,
Resolved to enter; but first he took a peep,
In hopes a supper he might get, and cheap.
He enters; "Hallo! garçon, if you please,
Bring me a little bit of bread and cheese.
And, hallo! garçon, a pot of porter, too," he said,
“Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed."

His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left,
Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft,
Into his pocket put; then slowly crept

To wished-for bed; but not a wink he slept;
For, on the floor some sacks of flour were laid,
To which the rats a nightly visit paid.
Our hero now undressed, popped out the light,
Put on his cap, and bade the world good night;
But first his breeches, which contained the fare,
Under his pillow he had placed with care.

Sans ceremonie, soon the rats all ran,
And on the flour-sacks greedily began;

ANON.

At which they gorged themselves, then smelling round, Under the pillow soon the cheese they found;

And while at this they regaling sat,

Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap;

Who, half awake, cried out, "Hallo! hallo!

Vat is dat nibbel at my pillow so?

Ah! 'tis one big huge rat!

Vat de diable is it he nibbel, nibbel at ?"

In vain our little hero sought repose;
Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose;
And such the pranks they kept up all the night,
That he, on end antipodes upright,

Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light.
"Hallo! maison! garçon, I say!

Bring me the bill for vat I have to pay!"

The bill was brought, and to his great surprise,

Ten shillings was the charge: he scarce believes his eyes.

With eager haste he runs it o'er,

And every time he viewed it thought it more.

"Vy zounds, and zounds!" he cries, "I shall no pay; Vat! charge ten shelangs for vat I have mange? A leetal sup of porter, dis vile bed,

Vere all de rats do run about my head ?"

66

pay

Plague on those rats!" the landlord muttered out; "I wish, upon my word, that I could make 'em scout: I'll him well that can." "Vat's dat you say ?" "Attend to me, I pray, Vil you dis charge forego, vat I am at, If from your house I drive away de rat ?”

"I'll pay him well that can."

"With all my heart," the jolly host replies;
"Ecoutez donc ami ;" the Frenchman cries.
"First, den, regardez, if you please,

Bring to dis spot a leetal bread and cheese,
Eh bien! a pot of porter, too;

And den invite de rats to sup vid

you;

And after-no matter dey be villing

For vat dey eat you charge dem just ten shelang;
And I am sure, ven dey behold de score,

Dey'll quit your house, and never come no more!"