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 roaring 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 enslaved 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; "The LION that hath bathed his paws in seas of Libyan gore, LXXVII.-MACLAINE'S CHILD MACKAY. "MACLAINE! you 've scourged me like a hound ;- "You should have crushed me into death;— "On him, and you, and all your race!"— And, starting like a hunted stag, And, leaning o'er its topmost ledge, With flashing eye and burning brow, But, midway up the rugged steep, "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! And, as he spoke, he raised the child, "Fair lady, if your lord will strip, The lady's cheek grew pale with ire, Took aim, then dropped it, sore distressed. "I might have slain my babe instead. "Wrong unavenged I've never borne," The lady stood in mute despair, He saw the quivering of her eye, "I smite you," said the clansman true; 66 For by yon Heaven that hears me speak, But Evan's face beamed hate and joy; 66 And mine, Lochbuy, shall be complete." Ere hand could stir, with sudden shock, They found their bodies in the tide ; Was that sad mother known to smile:- They dragged false Evan from the sea, 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 |