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And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum,
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;

While thronged the citizens, with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips-'The foe! They come ! they come !'

And wild and high the 'Camerons' Gathering' rose !
The war-note of Lochiel,* which Albyn's + hills
Have heard; and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill! But, with the breath that fills
Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instils

The stirring memory of a thousand years,

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,

Over the unreturning brave,―alas !

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,

Which, now beneath them, but above shall grow

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valour, rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.

Last noon-beheld them full of lusty life,

Last eve-in beauty's circle proudly gay,

The midnight-brought the signal-sound of strife,
The morn-the marshalling in arms,-the day—

*The chief of the clan Cameron.

·

Albyn, the Gaelic name of Scotland.

The forest of Ardennes lay in the country around the Meuse; the appellation is here applied to that of Soignies, between Brussels and Waterloo.'

Battle's magnificently-stern array !

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent,
The earth is covered thick with other clay,

Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse-friend, foe-in one red burial blent ! Byron.

CXLII.

HYMN TO ADVERSITY.

AUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,

Whose iron scourge and torturing hour

The bad affright, afflict the best!

Bound in thy adamantine chain,

The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan,

With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, designed,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade thee form her infant mind.
Stern, rugged Nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore;

What sorrow was thou bad'st her know,

And from her own she learned to melt at others' woe.

Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,

Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leisure to be good.

Light they disperse, and with them go

The summer Friend, the flattering Foe;

By vain Prosperity received,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

Wisdom, in sable garb arrayed,

Immersed in rapturous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend;
Warm Charity, the general friend,
With Justice, to herself severe,

And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.

Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,

Dread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful band,

(As by the impious thou art seen,)

With thundering voice and threatening mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry,
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty;

Thy form benign, oh Goddess, wear,
Thy milder influence impart,

Thy philosophic train be there

To soften, not to wound my heart.

The generous spark extinct revive,
Teach me to love and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to scan,

What others are, to feel, and know myself a man.

T. Gray.

CXLIII.

THE WONDERS OF THE LANE.

TRONG climber of the mountain's side,
Though thou the vale disdain,

Yet walk with me where hawthorns hide
The wonders of the lane.

High o'er the rushy springs of Don

The stormy gloom is rolled :
The moorland hath not yet put on
His purple, green, and gold.
But here the titling' spreads his wing
Where dewy daisies gleam,

And here the sunflower of the spring 2
Burns bright in morning's beam.
To mountain winds the famished fox
Complains that Sol is slow

O'er headlong steeps and gushing rocks
His royal robe to throw.

But here the lizard seeks the sun,
Here coils in light the snake;
And here the fire-tuft3 hath begun
Its beauteous nest to make.

O then, while hums the earliest bee,
Where verdure fires the plain,
Walk thou with me, and stoop to see
The glories of the lane.

For oh, I love these banks of rock,

This roof of sky and tree,

These tufts, where sleeps the gloaming clock,'

And wakes the earliest bee.

As spirits from eternal day

Look down on earth secure,

Gaze thou, and wonder, and survey

A world in miniature.

A world not scorned by Him who made
Ev'n weakness by His might;
But solemn in his depth of shade
And splendid in his light.

1 Titling, hedge sparrow.

2 Sunflower of the spring, dandelion.
8 Fire tuft, golden-crested wren.

Clock, beetle?

Light! not alone on clouds afar
O'er storm-loved mountains spread,
Or widely-teaching sun and star,

Thy glorious thoughts are read:
Oh no! thou art a wondrous book
To sky, and sea, and land,
A page on which the angels look,
Which insects understand.
And here, O Light! minutely fair,
Divinely plain and clear,
Like splinters of a crystal hair,
Thy bright small hand is here.

Yon drop fed lake, six inches wide,
Is Huron, girt with wood;
This driplet feeds Missouri's tide,

And that, Niágara's flood.

What tidings from the Andes brings

Yon line of liquid light,

That down from heaven in madness flings The blind foam of its might?

Do I not hear his thunder roll—

The roar that ne'er is still?

'Tis mute as death! but in my soul It roars, and ever will.

What forests tall of tiniest moss

Clothe every little stone!

What pigmy oaks their foliage toss

O'er pigmy valleys lone!

With shade o'er shade, from ledge to ledge,

Ambitious of the sky,

They feather o'er the steepest edge

Of mountains mushroom-high.

O God of marvels! who can tell
What myriad living things

On these gray stones unseen may dwell;
What nations with their kings!

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