GINEVRA. If ever you should come to Modena, 'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth, Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again, She sits, inclining forward as to speak, As though she said, "Beware!" her vest of gold Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot; An emerald stone in every golden clasp; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart, It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Alone it hangs, Over a mouldering heirloom, its companion, She was an only child,-her name Ginevra,- Just as she looks there in her bridal dress, Her pranks the favorite theme of every tongue. Great was the joy; but at the nuptial feast, And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook, Weary of his life, Donati lived,-and long might you have seen Full fifty years were passed, and all forgotten, That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, Why not remove it from its lurking place ?" 'Twas done as soon as said; but on the way It burst,-it fell,-and lo! a skeleton, With here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone, There, then, had she found a grave! Samuel Rogers. THE BURIAL OF MOSES. "And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day." Deut. xxxiv. By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, For the angels of God upturned the sod, That was the grandest funeral Comes when the night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Noiselessly as the spring-time Or voice of them that wept, Perchance the bald old eagle, Looked on the wondrous sight. Still shuns the hallowed spot; That which man knoweth not. Lo when the warrior dieth, His comrades in the war, With arms reversed, and muffled drum, They show the banners taken, They tell his battles won, And after him lead his masterless steed, Amid the noblest of the land This was the bravest warrior That ever breathed a word; On the deathless page, truths half so sage And had he not high honor? To lie in state while angels wait, With stars for tapers tall; And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes, Over his bier to wave; And God's own hand, in that lonely land, To lay him in the grave,— In that deep grave, without a name, Shall break again,—O wondrous thought!-- And stand, with glory wrapped around, And speak of the strife that won our life, O lonely tomb in Moab's land! O dark Beth-peor's hill! Speak to these curious hearts of ours, God hath his mysteries of grace,- He hides them deep, like the secret sleep C. F. Alexander. GRATTAN'S REPLY. TO MR. CORRY. Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done? He was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of his speech. There was scarce a word he uttered that was not a violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call him to order,-why? because the limited talents of some men render it impossible for them to be severe without being unparliamentary. But before I sit down I shall show him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same time. On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable in treating with silent contempt anything which might fall from that honorable member; but there are times, when the insignificance of the accuser is lost in the magnitude of the accusation. I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman labored under when he attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view of our characters, public and private, there is nothing he could say which would injure me. The public would not believe the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the manner I shall do before I sit down. But I shall first reply to it when not made by an honest man. The right honorable gentleman has called me "an unimpeached traitor." I ask why not "traitor," unqualified by any epithet? I will tell him: it was because he durst not. It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy counsellor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to be chancellor of the exchequer. But I say, he is one who has abused the privilege of Parliament and the freedom of debate, by uttering language which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low his character, how contemptible his speech; whether a privy counsellor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow. He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. |