That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower:
The great Emathian conqueror1 bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground: and the repeated3 air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power

2

To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.

Milton.

(1) Emathian conqueror-Alexander the Great, so called from Emathia, the original name of Macedonia.

(2) Pindarus-When Alexander took Thebes-Pindar's native city--he ordered the poet's family to be respected, and his house to be left untouched.

(3) Repeated-recited. Plutarch relates that when Lysander had taken Athens, and was meditating its total destruction, the recitation, at a banquet, of some fine verses from the "Electra" of Euripides, induced him and his officers to forego their resolution.

(4) Walls-i.e. the houses and buildings of the city; for the external walls and fortifications were destroyed by Lysander's order.

(5) These lines furnish a favourable specimen of the flattering sentimental poetry of Waller, in much of which the result gained is singularly disproportionate to the pains taken.

Then die! that she

The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee:

How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
[Yet though' thou fade,

From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise;
And teach the maid

That goodness time's rude hand defies,
That virtue lives when beauty dies.]

Waller.

THE BATTLE OF IVRY.2

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre !
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,

Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land of
France!

And thou, Rochelle! our own Rochelle! proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters; As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,

For cold, and stiff, and still, are they, who wrought thy walls annoy.
Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war,
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre!

Oh! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day,
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array;
With all its priest-led citizens and all its rebel peers,
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land;
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand :
And as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood,
And good Coligni's hoary hair, all dabbled with his blood;
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war,
To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre.

(1) This last stanza was added by Kirke White, in a copy of Waller's poems. (2) Ivry-A town of Normandy, near which Henry IV., at the head of the Huguenot army, defeated the forces of the League or Catholic party. Henry was Henry of Navarre" by virtue of his mother's right.

(3) Annoy--In allusion to the severe siege sustained by the Huguenots in that city, in which, after the awful massacre on St. Bartholomew's day, 1572, the survivors had taken refuge.

3

The King is come to marshal us, in all his armour drest,
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest.
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye;

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing,
All down our line, a deafening shout, "God save our lord, the King!"
"And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may,
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray,

Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war,
And be your oriflamme' to-day, the helmet of Navarre."

Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin.2
The fiery duke is pricking fast across Saint André's plain,
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne.3
Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France,
Charge for the golden lilies upon them with the lance!

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest,
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest;
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star,
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.

Now God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned his rein;
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter; the Flemish count is slain;
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale;
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail.
And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van,
"Remember Saint Bartholomew!" was passed from man to man.
But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is my foe;
Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go."
Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war,
As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre?

Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne ;

Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send for charity thy Mexican pistoles,

That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.

(1) Oriflamme-from the Latin aurea flamma, golden flame; the name given to the great standard of France, reputed to have been brought from heaven by an angel, and given to the monks of St Denis. It was a blazing flag of blue cloth, besprinkled over with golden fleurs-de-lis, and quartered with a cross of scarlet cloth. (2) Culverin-from the Latin coluber, a serpent, through the French coulevrine, -a piece of ordnance long and thin, like the body of a serpent.

(3) Almayne-Allemagne, Germany; Austria is particularly indicated.

Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright;
Ho! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night.
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the
slave,

And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valour of the brave.
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are;
And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre!
Macaulay.

THE DAFFODILS.1

I WANDERED lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside a lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay;
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced;
but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company.

I gazed, and gazed, but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Wordsworth.

(1) The leading idea suggested by these simple, yet philosophical lines, is also conveyed in the "Lines on revisiting the Wye," by the same author, in which the following passage occurs:

"Here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years."

(2) Which is, &c.-which makes or furnishes, &c.

A CALM WINTER'S NIGHT.

How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh,
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear,
Were discord to the speaking quietude'

That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon vault,
Studded with stars unutterably bright,

Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
Seems like a canopy which love has spread
To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills,
Robed in a garment of untrodden snow-
Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend,
So stainless that their white and glittering spires
Tinge not the moon's pure beam-yon castled steep,
Whose banner2 hangeth o'er the time-worn tower
So idly that rapt fancy deemeth it

A metaphor of peace;-all form a scene
Where musing solitude might love to lift
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness;
Where silence undisturbed might watch alone,
So cold, so bright, so still.

Shelley.

MARCH.

LIKE as that lion through the

green

woods came,

With roar which startled the hushed solitude,
Yet soon as he saw Una,3 that fair dame

To virtue wedded, quieted his rude

And savage heart, and at her feet sank tame
As a pet lamb-so March, though his first mood
Was boisterous and wild, feeling that shame

Would follow his fell steps, if Spring's young brood

(1) Speaking quietude-This metaphor is by no means new, but its fitness to illustrate the subject renders it particularly striking here.

(2) Whose banner, &c.-An exquisite fancy. The poet's touch converts the emblem of war into a symbol of peace, and thus blends it into harmony with th other features of this calm, still, beautiful scene.

(3) Una-See the extracts from Spenser's "Faerie Queene," in the second part of this work.