And Brutus', Antony', there were* an Antony [that]
Would ruffle up your spirits', and put a tongue

In every wound of Cesar', that should move

The stones of ROME to rise and mutiny'.

SECTION XXI.

Speech of Henry the Fifth before the battle of Agincourt.
SHAKSPEARE.

WHO's he that wishes more men from England"?
My cousin Westmoreland'? No', my fair cousin':
If we are marked to die', we are enough

To do our country loss'; and if to live',

The fewer men', the greater share of honour'.
No', no', my lord'; wish not a mân from England'.
Rather proclaim it', Westmoreland', throughout my host',
That he who hath no stomach for this fight',
May straight depart'; his passport shall be made',
And crowns', for convoy', put into his purse'.
We would not die in that man's company'.
This day is called the feast of Crispian'.

He that outlives this day', and comes safe home',
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named',
And rouse him at the name of Crispian'.
He that outlives this day', and sees old age',
Will', yearly', on the vigil', feast his neighbours',
And say', To-morrow is St. Crispian':

Then will he strip his sleeve', and show his scars'.
Old men forget', yet shall not all forget';

But they'll remember', with advantages',

What feats they did that day'. Then shall our names',
Familiar in their mouths as household words',

Harry the king', Bedford and Exeter',

Warwick and Talbot',a Salisbury and Gloucester',

Be, in their flowing cups', freshly remembered'.

This story shall the good man teach his son',

And Crispian's day shall ne'erd go by',
From this time to the ending of the world',

But we and it shall be remembered';

We few', we happy few', we band of brothers';
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me',
Shall be my brother': be he e'ere so vile',
This day shall gentle his condition';

And gentlemen in England', now abed',

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here';
And hold their manhoods cheap', while any speaks
That fought with us upon St. Crispian's day'.

aTol'båt. Sölz'bêr-rẻ. Glôs'ter. Nåre. eåre.

*Would be, grammatically.

SECTION XXII.

Last Parting of the three Indian Friends.—MOORE.

WHEN shall we three meet again?
When shall we three meet again?
Oft shall glowing hope expire,
Oft shall weary love retire,

Oft shall death and sorrow reign,
Erea we three shall meet again.

Tho' to distant lands we hie,
Parched beneath a burning sky,
Tho' the deep between us rolls,
Friendship still unites our souls;
And, in fancy's wide domain,
Oft shall we three meet again.
When those burnished locks are gray,
Thinned by many a toil-spent day,
When around this youthful pine
Moss shall creep and ivy twine,
Long may this loved hour remain,
Oft may we three meet again.

When the dream of life is fled,
When those wasting lamps are dead,
When, in cold oblivion's shade,
Beauty, wit, and power are laid,
Where immortal spirits reign,

There may we three meet again.

SECTION XXIII.

The Sailor-Boy's Dream.-ANONYMOUS.

IN slumbers of midnight', the sailor-boy lay';

His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind';
But watch-worn and weary', his cares flew away',
And visions of happiness'.. danced o'er his mind'.

He dreamed of his home', of his dear native bowers',
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn';
While memory stood sidewise', half covered with flowers
And restored every rose', but secreted its thorn!.

Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide',

And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise':Now', far', far behind nim the green waters glide', And the cot of his forefathers'.. blesses his eyes'.

aåre.

And intimates eternity to man'.

Eternity'!-Thou pleasing', dreadful thought"!
Through what variety of untried being',

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass"!—
The wide', th' unbounded prospect lies before me':
But shadows', clouds', and darkness rest upon it'.
Here will I hold'. If there's a power above us',
(And that there is', all nature' cries aloud

Through all her works',) he must delight in virtue';
And that which he delights in', must be happy'.

But when'? or where'? This world was made for Cesar'.
I'm weary of conjectures-this must end them'.

[Laying his hand on his sword

Thus I am doubly armed'. My death', and life',
My bane and antidote', are both before me'.
This', in a moment', brings me to an end';
But this informs me I shall never die':
The soul', secured in her existence', smiles
At the drawn dagger', and defies its point'.
The stars shall fade away', the sun himself
Grow dim with age', and nature sink in years';
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth',
Unhurt amidst the war of elements',

The wreck of matter', and the crush of worlds'.

SECTION XXVI.

The Dying Christian to his Soul.- *>PE.

VITAL Spark of heavenly flame',

Quit', oh quit', this mortal frame':
Trembling', hoping', ling'ring', flying',
Oh', the pain', the bliss', of dying"!

Cease', fond nature', cease thy strife',
And let me languish into life.

Hark! they whisper': angels say',
'Sister spirit', come away'.'
What is this absorbs me quite'?
Steals my senses', shuts my sight',

Drowns my spirit', draws my breath"?
Tell me, my soul', can this be death'?

The world recedes': it disappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes"! my ears'
With sounds seraphick ring"!

Lend', lend your wings"! I mount"! I fly
O grâve'! where is thy victory'?

Ŏ death'! where is thy sting"?

CHAPTER V.

PROMISCUOUS PIECES.

SECTION I.

The Alhambra by Moonlight.-IRVING.

I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first taking possession of it': a few evenings have produced a thorough change in the scene and in my feelings'. The moon', which then was invisible', has gradually gained upon the nights', and now rolls in full splendour above the towers', pouring a flood of tempered light into every court and hall'. The garden beneath my window', is gently lighted up'; the orange and citron trees'.. are tipped with silver'; the fountain". . sparkles in the moonbeams'; and even the blush of the rose'. . is faintly visible'.

I have sat for hours at my window', inhaling the sweetness of the garden', and musing on the checkered features of those whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials around'. Sometimes I have issued forth at midnight'.. when every thing was quiet', and have wandered over the whole building'. Who can do justice to a moonlight night in such a climate', and in such a place! The temperature of an Andalusian midnight in summer', is perfectly ethereal'. We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere'; there is a serenity of soul', a buoyancy of spirits', an elasticity of frame', that render mere existence'.. enjoyment'. The effect of moonlight', too', on the Alhambra', has something like enchantment'. Every rent and chasm of time', every mouldering teint and weather-stain', disappears'; the marble resumes its original whiteness'; the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams'; the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance', until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale'. At such a time', I have ascended to the little pavilion', called the queen's toilette', to enjoy its varied and extensive prospect'. To the right', the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada', would gleam',

aPôz-zêsh'ůn. Fòån'tin-not, föůn'tn. Fé'tshårez. Eg-zist'ênse-not, unse. En-tshânt'mênt-not, munt. 'Ra'dě-ânse-not, unse.

like silver clouds', against the darker firmament', and all the outlines of the mountain'.. would be softened', yet delicately defined'. My delight', however', would be to lean over the parapet of the Tocador', and gaze down upon Granada',* spread out like a map below me': all buried in deep repose', and its white palaces and convents sleeping', as it were', in the moonshine'.

Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets from some party of dancers'.. lingering in the Alameda'; at other times', I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar', and the notes of a single voice'.. rising from some solitary street', and have pictured to myself some youthful cavalier', serenading his lady's window'; a gallant custom of former days', but now sadly on the decline', except in the remote towns and villages of Spain'.

Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an hour', loitering about the courts and balconies of the castle', enjoying that mixture" of revery and sensation which steal away exist ence in a southern climate'—and it has been almost morning before I have retired to my bed', and been lulled to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa'.

SECTION II.

Reflections on the Moslem Domination in Spain.-Ib.

ONE of my favourited resorts is the balcony of the central window of the Hall of Ambassadors', in the lofty tower of Comares'.* I have just been seated there', enjoying the close of a long', brilliant day'. The sun', as he sunk behind the purple mountains of Alhama', sent a stream of effulgence up the valley of the Darro, that spread a melancholy pomp over the ruddy towers of the Alhambra', while the Vega', covered with a slight', sultry vapour that caught the setting ray', seemed spread out in the distance like a golden sea'. Not a breath of air disturbed the stillness of the hour'; and though the faint sound of musick and merriments now and then arose from the gardens of the Darro', it but rendered more impressive the monumental silence of the pile which overshadowed me'. It

aGrân'â-då. Miks'tshåre-not, tshår. Egz-ist'ense-not, unse. ¿Få'vår'it. Dis'tânse—not, dis'tunse. 'Stil'nės-not, nis. «Mêr'rè'mênt

*One of the towers belonging to the Alhambra, the splendid fortified palace of the Moorish princes that formerly reigned in Granada.