And O, when Death comes in terrors, to cast
His fears on the future, his pall on the past,-
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,
And a smile in thine eye, "look aloft," and depart.
J. LAWRENCE
"But I defy him!-let him come!"
Down rang the massy cup,
While from its sheath the ready blade
Came flashing half-way up;
And with the black and heavy plumes
Scarce trembling on his head,
There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair,
Old Rudiger sat--dead!
And this, O Spain! is thy return
For the new world I gave!
Chains! this the recompense I earn!
The fetters of the slave!
Yon sun that sinketh 'neath the sea,
Rises on realms I found for thee.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone-
But we left him alone with his glory!
What's hallowed ground?-Tis what gives birth
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!-
Peace! Independence! Truth! Go forth,
Earth's compass round;
And your high priesthood shall make earth
All hallowed ground!
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Small service is true service while it lasts;
Of friends, however humble, scorn not one:
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.
The gloomiest day hath gleams of light;
The darkest wave hath white foam near it;
And twinkles through the cloudiest night
Some solitary star to cheer it.
The gloomiest soul is not all gloom;
The saddest heart is not all sadness;
And sweetly o'er the darkest doom
There shiner some lingering beam of gladness.
So stately her bearing, so proud her array,
The main she will traverse, forever and aye.
Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!
-Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last!
THE LETTERS.-By Alfred Tennyson.
STILL on the tower stood the vane;
A black yew gloomed the stagnant air;
I peered athwart the chancel pane,
And saw the altar cold and bare.
A clog of lead was 'round my feet,
A band of pain across my brow;
"Cold altar, Heaven and earth shall meet,
Before you hear my marriage vow."
I turned and hummed a bitter song
That mocked the wholesome human heart;
And then we met in wrath and wrong,
We met, but only meant to part.
Full cold my greeting was, and dry;
She faintly smiled, she hardly moved;
I saw with half-unconscious eye
She wore the colors I approved.
She took the little ivory chest
With half a sigh she turned the key;
Then raised her head with lips comprest,
And gave my letters back to me.
And gave the trinkets and the rings,
My gifts when gifts of mine could please;
As looks a father on the things
Of his dead son, I looked on these.
She told me all her friends had said;
I raged against the public liar.
She talked as if her love were dead;
But in my words were seeds of fire.
"No more of love;-your sex is known:
I never will be twice deceived.
Henceforth I trust the man alone-
The women cannot be believed!
"Through slander, meanest spawn of hell,
(And woman's slander is the worst),
And you whom once I loved so well,
Through you my life must be accurst!"
I spoke with heart, and heat, and force,
I shook her breast with vague alarms-
Like torrents from a mountain source,
We rushed into cach other s arms.
We parted. Sweetly gleamed the stars,
And sweet the vapor-braided blue;
Low breezes fanned the belfry bars,
As homeward by the church I drew.
The very graves appeared to smile,
So fresh they rose in shadowed swells;
"Dark porch," I said, "and silent aisle,
There comes a sound of marriage bells."
SHAMUS O'BRIEN, THE BOLD BOY OF GLINGALL A TALE OF '98.-By Samuel Lover.
JIST afther the war, in the year '98,
As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate,
Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got,
To hang him by thrial-barrin' sich as was shot.
There was trial by jury goin' on by daylight,
And the martial-law hangin' the lavins by night.
It's them was hard times for an honest gossoon:
If he missed in the judges-he'd meet a dragoon;
An' whether the sodgers or judges gev sentence,
The divil a much time they allowed for repentance.
An' it's many's the fine boy was then on his keepin'
Wid small share iv restin', or atin', or sleepin',
An' because they loved Erin, an' scorned to sell it,
A prey for the bloodhound, a mark for the bullet-
Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day,
With the heath for their barrack, revenge for their pay;
An' the bravest an' hardiest boy iv them all
Was SHAMUS O'BRIEN, from the town iv Glingall.
His limbs were well set, an' his body was light,
An' the keen-fanged hound had not teeth half so white;
But his face was as pale as the face of the dead,
And his cheek never warmed with the blush of the red;
An' for all that he wasn't an ugly young bye,
For the divil himself couldn't blaze with his eye
So droll an' so wicked, so dark and so bright,
Like a fire-flash that crosses the depth of the nignt!
An' he was the best mower that ever has been,
An' the illigantest hurler that ever was seen.
An' his dancin' was sich that the men used to stare,
An' the women turn crazy, he done it so quare;
An' by gorra, the whole world gev it into him there.
An' it's he was the boy that was hard to be caught,
An' it's often he run, an' it's often he fought,
An' it's many the one can remember right well
The quare things he done: an' it's often I heerd tell
How he lathered the yeomen, himself agin four,
An' stretched the two strongest on old Galtimore.
But the fox must sleep sometimes, the wild deer must rest,
An' treachery prey on the blood iv the best;
Afther many a brave action of power and pride,
An' many a hard night on the mountain's bleak side,
An' a thousand great dangers and toils over past,
In the darkness of night he was taken at last.
Now, SHAMUS, look back on the beautiful moon,
For the door of the prison must close on you soon,
An' take your last look at her dim lovely light,
That falls on the mountain and valley this night;
One look at the village, one look at the flood,
An' one at the sheltering, far-distant wood;
Farewell to the forest, farewell to the hill,'
An' farewell to the friends that will think of you still;
Farewell to the pathern, the hurlin' an' wake,
And farewell to the girl that would die for your sake.
An' twelve sodgers brought him to Maryborough jail,
An' the turnkey resaved him, refusin' all bail;
The fleet limbs wor chained, an' the strong hands wor bound,
An' he laid down his length on the cowld prison-ground,
An' the dreams of his childhood kem over him there
As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air;
An' happy remembrances crowding on ever,
As fast as the foam-flakes dhrift down on the river,
Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by,
Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye.
But the tears didn't fall, for the pride of his heart
Would not suffer one drop down his pale cheek to start;
An' he sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave,
An' he swore with the fierceness that misery gave,
By the hopes of the good, an' the cause of the brave,
That when he was mouldering in the cold grave
His enemies never should have it to boast
His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost;
His bosom might bleed, but his cheek should be dhry,
FC undaunted he lived, and undaunted he'd die.
Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone,
The terrible day iv the thrial kem on,
There was sich a crowd there was scarce room to stand,
An' sodgers on guard, an' dhragoons sword-in-hand;
An' the court-house so full that the people were bothered,
An' attorneys an' criers on the point iv bein' smothered;
An' counsellors almost gev over for dead,
An' the jury sittin' up in their box overhead;
An' the judge settled out so detarmined an' big,
With his gown on his back, and an illegant new wig;
An' silence was called, an' the minute it was said
The court was as still as the heart of the dead,
An' they heard but the openin' of one prison lock,
An' SHAMUS O'BRIEN kem into the dock.
For one minute he turned his eye round on the throng,
An' he looked at the bars, so firm and so strong,
An' he saw that he had not a hope nor a friend,
A chance to escape, nor a word to defend;
An' he folded his arms as he stood there alone,
As calm and as cold as a statue of stone;
And they read a big writin', a yard long at laste,.
An' JIM didn't understand it, nor mind it a taste,
An' the judge took a big pinch iv snuff, and he says,
"Are you guilty or not, JIM O'BRIEN, av you plase?"
An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread,
An' SHAMUS O'BRIEN made answer and said:
"My lord, if you ask me, if in my life-time
I thought any treason, or did any crime
That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here,
The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear,
Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow
Before GOD and the world I would answer you, no!
But if you would ask me, as I think it like,
If in the rebellion I carried a pike,
An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close,
An' shed the heart's blood of her bitterest foes,
I answer you, yes; and I tell you again,
Though I stand here to perish, it's my glory that then
In her cause I was willing my veins should run dhry,
An' that now for her sake I am ready to die."
Then the silence was great, and the jury smiled bright,
An' the judge wasn't sorry the job was made light;
By my sowl, it's himself was the crabbed ould chap!
In a twinklin' he pulled on his ugly black cap.
Then SHAMUS' mother in the crowd standin' by,
Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry:
“O, judge! darlin', don't, O, don't say the word!
The crathur is young, have mercy, my lord;
He was foolish, he didn't know what he was doin';
You don't know him, my lord-O, don't give him to ruin!
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