who condemned him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce, unlettered soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize the soul of Longinus. Without uttering a complaint, he calmly followed the executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress, and bestowing comfort on his afflicted friends. - Since the foundation of Rome, no general had more nobly deserved a triumph than Aurelian; nor was a triumph ever celebrated with superior pride and magnificence. The pomp was opened by twenty elephants, four royal tigers, and above two hundred of the most curious animals from every climate of the north, the east, and the south. They were followed by sixteen hundred gladiators, devoted to the cruel amusement of the amphitheatre. The wealth of Asia, the arms and ensigns of so many conquered nations, and the magnificent plate and wardrobe of the Syrian queen, were disposed in exact symmetry or artful disorder. The ambassadors of the most remote parts of the earth, of Æthiopia, Arabia, Persia, Bactriana, India, and China, all remarkable by their rich or singular dresses, displayed the fame and power of the Roman emperor, who exposed likewise to the public view the presents that he had received, and particularly a great number of crowns of gold, the offerings of grateful cities. The victories of Aurelian were attested by the long train of captives who reluctantly attended his triumph — Goths, Vandals, Sarmatians, Alemanni, Franks, Gauls, Syrians, and Egyptians. Each people was distinguished by its peculiar inscription, and the title of Amazons was bestowed on ten martial heroines of the Gothic nation who had been taken in arms. But every eye, disregarding the crowd of captives, was fixed on the Emperor Tetricus and the Queen of the East. The former, as well as his son, whom he had created Augustus, was dressed in Gallic trousers, a saffron tunic, and a robe of purple. The beauteous figure of Zenobia was confined by fetters of gold; a slave supported the gold chain which encircled her neck, and she almost fainted under the intolerable weight of jewels. She preceded on foot the magnificent chariot, in which she once hoped to enter the gates of Rome. It was followed by two other chariots, still more sumptuous, of Odenathus and of the Persian monarch. The triumphal car of Aurelian (it had formerly been used by a Gothic king) was drawn, on this memorable occasion, either by four stags or by four elephants. The most illustrious of the senate, the people, and the army, closed the solemn procession. Unfeigned joy, wonder, and gratitude, swelled the acclamations of the multi tude; but the satisfaction of the senate was clouded by the appearance of Tetricus; nor could they suppress a rising murmur, that the haughty emperor should thus expose to public ignominy the person of a Roman and a magistrate. But, however in the treatment of his unfortunate rivals Aurelian might indulge his pride, he behaved towards them with a generous clemency, which was seldom exercised by the ancient conquerors. Princes who, without success, had defended their throne or freedom, were frequently strangled in prison, as soon as the triumphal pomp ascended the Capitol. These usurpers, whom their defeat had convicted of the crime of treason, were permitted to spend their lives in affluence and honorable repose. The emperor presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur, or Tivoli, about twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen insensibly sunk into a Roman matron, her daughters married into noble families, and her race was not yet extinct in the fifth century. LADY ANNE BARNARD. Lady Anne Barnard, daughter of the Earl of Balcarres, was born in 1750, and died in 1825. She was a friend and correspondent of Scott and of Lady Byron; some of her letters to the latter have been published during the late controversy as to the cause of her separation from Lord Byron. The ballad which follows, written when she was twenty-one years of age, is unsurpassed for tender feeling and truth to nature. AULD ROBIN GRAY. WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye's come hame, And a' the weary warld to rest are gane, The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride, - He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day, When my father brake his arm and the cow was stown away; My mither she fell sick my Jamie was at sea, And Auld Robin Gray came a courting me. My father couldna wark — my mither couldna spin- My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back; My father urged me sair - my mither didna speak, But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break; I hadna been his wife a week but only four, O, sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a'; I wish that I were dead, but I'm na like to die, For, though my heart is broken, I'm but young, wae is me! I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin, I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin; But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, For, O, Robin Gray, he is kind to me. ROBERT BURNS. Robert Burns was born on the 25th of January, 1759, near the town of Ayr, in Scotland. Both his parents are said to have been possessed of more than common abilities. The future poet was in his boyhood a grave and dull lad, but was well instructed by his teacher and by his father in the ordinary branches of an English education. At fifteen he performed the labor of a man on the farm, but contrived to find leisure for reading many books, especially some plays of Shakespeare, the works of Pope, and a collection of songs. pored over them," says he, “driving my cart or walking to labor, song by song, verse by verse, carefully noticing the true tender or sublime from affectation and fustian." After the death of his father he took a farm at Mossgiel, where he resided four years. This was the most fruitful period of his life, during which he wrote many of his most striking poems. These were printed at Kilmarnock, and copies finding their way to Edinburgh, their suc cess was immediate and unbounded. The poet was invited to the capital, and was received with the heartiest enthusiasm. A new edition of his poems was published, by which he realized a handsome sum, and he returned home a famous man. Shortly after he was appointed an exciseman, with a salary of seventy pounds. It is very seldom that a public office does not work some mischief to the incumbent, and the case of Burns was no exception to the rule. His character and habits from this time were changed rapidly for the worse. Evil associates gathered around him, dragging him deeper into dissipation, until, while still in early manhood, his vital powers gave way, and he died at the age of thirty-seven. Perhaps the best idea of the songs of Burns can be had from his own preface: "The poetic genius of my country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha, at the plough, and threw her inspiring mantle over me. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural pleasures, of my native soil, in my native tongue. I tuned my wild, artless notes as she inspired." The finest phrases of the critic can add nothing to this. Every lover of poetry feels a thrill in reading Burns-the touch of nature that makes the whole world kin. His songs are as far from the learned verses made by antique rules, as his own Daisy, wet with the morning dew, is from its waxen counterfeit; they are Nature's blossoms, that can give no account of themselves, opening to the eye of heaven, and not to the eye of man; they are the miracles which are impossible till they happen. Genius in its absolute sense is always a superlative; the differences are in kind, but not in degree; and probably the world will wait as long for another Burns as for another Shakespeare. The poems of Burns are published in a great variety of forms. Critical articles without number have appeared in the reviews; but the reader who wishes to obtain the most accurate idea of the man, and of his genius, should read the able, thorough, and appreciative essay by his great countryman, Carlyle. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. INSCRIBED TO Robert Aiken, Esq.1 My loved, my honored, much respected friend, With honest pride I scorn each selfish end, What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween! November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; 1 A legal practitioner in Ayr, of considerable oratorical talents, who was among the first to befriend the poet. z Crows. This night his weekly moil is at an end, — Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; The expectant wee things, toddlin', stacher' through 2 His wee bit ingle 3 blinkin' bonnily, His clean hearthstane, his thriftie wifie's smile, Does a' his weary kiaugh' an' care beguile, Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, 8 Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, 9 Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet, The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, Gars" auld claes 12 look amaist 13 as weel's the new; The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. Their master's and their mistress's command 14 The younkers a' are warned to obey, 15 or play: |