He called aloud, "Say, father, say He knew not that the chieftain lay "Speak, father!" once again he cried, Upon his brow he felt their breath, And looked from that lone post of death, In still, yet brave despair. And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapped the ship in splendor wild; And streamed above the gallant child, There came a burst of thunder sound;- Ask of the winds, that far around With mast and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part; Ex. XXXIII.-LOVE AND MURDER. IN Manchester a maiden dwelt, ANON. Her name was Phoebe Brown; Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, And she was considered by good judges to be by all odds the best looking girl in town. Her age was nearly seventeen, Her eyes were sparkling bright; A very lovely girl she was, And for about a year and a half there had been a young man paying his attention to her, by the name of Reuben Wright. Now Reuben was a nice young man As any in the town, And Phoebe loved him very dear, But, on account of his being obliged to work for a living, he never could make himself agreeable to old Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Her parents were resolved Another she should wed, A rich old miser in the place, And old Brown frequently declared, that rather than have his daughter marry Reuben Wright, he'd sooner knock him in the head. But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, She feared not her parent's frowns; And as for Reuben Wright so bold, I've heard him say more than fifty times that, (with the exception of Phœbe) he did n't care a cent for the whole race of Browns. So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright Three weeks ago last Tuesday night, They started for old Parson Webster's, determined to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though it was tremendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. But Captain Brown was wide awake, He loaded up his gun, And then pursued the loving pair; He overtook 'em when they'd got about half way to the Parson's, and then Reuben and Phœbe started off upon the run. Old Brown then took a deadly aim Toward young Reuben's head, But, oh! it was a bleeding shame, He made a mistake, and shot his only daughter, and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right down stone dead. Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart, He drew an awful jack-knife out, And plunged it into old Brown about fifty or sixty times, so that it's very doubtful about his ever coming to again. The briny drops from Reuben's eyes In torrents pouréd down, And in this melancholy and heart-rending manner terminates the history of Reuben and Phœbe, and likewise old Captain Brown. Ex. XXXIV.—LOCHIN VAR. O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west,- He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, The bride had consented, the gallant came late : So boldly he entered the Netherby hall, SCOTT. 'Mong bridesmen and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied: The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, So stately his form, and so lovely her face, While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near, So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung: "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see! Ex. XXXV.-MEMORY. W. G. CLARK. 'Tis sweet, to remember! I would not forego In her web of illusion, that shines to deceive. 'Tis sweet, to remember! When storms are abroad, 'Tis sweet, to remember! When friends are unkind 'Tis sweet, to remember! And naught can destroy I would not forget!-though my thoughts should be dark; Ex. XXXVI.-THE DEATH OF HAMILTON. PRESIDENT NOTT. HAMILTON yielded to the force of an imperious custom. And yielding, he sacrificed a life in which all had an interest -and he is lost-lost to his country-lost to his family-lost to us. For this act, because he disclaimed it, and was penitent, I forgive him. But there are those whom I can not forgive. I mean not his antagonist-over whose erring steps, if there be tears in heaven, a pious mother looks down and weeps. If he be capable of feeling, he suffers already all that humanity can suffer. Suffers, and wherever he may fly will |