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Al else had perish’d-save a wedding-ring
And a small seal, her mother's legacy,
Engraven with a name, the name of both,

There then had she found a grave!
Within that chest had she concealed herself,
Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy;
When a spring lock, that lay in ambush there,
Fasten'd her down for ever!

330. Rev. Charles Wolfe. 1791-1823. (Manual, p. 460.)

THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

As his corse to the rampart we hurried ;' Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,

The sods with our bayonets turning-
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,

And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,

With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,

And we spoke not a word of sorrow ;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,

And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed,

And smooth'd down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,

And we far away on the billow.
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him-
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on

In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done

When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun

That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone-

But we left him alone with his glory.

James Montgomery. 1771-1854. (Manual, p. 460.)


THE LOVE OF COUNTRY AND OF HOME. There is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by heaven, o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night; A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth, Time-tutor'd age, and love-exalted youth : The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; In every clime the magnet of his soul, Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest : Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, While in his soften'd looks benignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, father, friend : Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife, Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life; In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, An angel-guard of loves and graces lie; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. “ Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found ?” Art thou a man ?-a patriot ?-look around; Oh thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land THY COUNTRY, and that spot THY HOME!

332. PRAYER.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire

Utter'd or unexpress'd ; The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,

The falling of a tear ;
The upward glancing of an eye,

When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech

That infant lips can try ; Prayer tặe sublimest strains that reach

The Majesty on high.
Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,

The Christian's native air;
His watchword at the gates of death,

He enters heaven by prayer.
Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice

Returning from his ways ;
While angels in their songs rejoice,

And say, “ Behold, he prays !"
The saints in prayer appear as one,

In word, and deed, and mind,
When with the Father and his Son

Their fellowship they find.
Nor prayer is made on earth alone ;

The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus, on the eternal throne,

For sinners intercedes.

O Thou, by whom we come to God,

The Life, the Truth, the Way, The path of prayer thyself hast trod,

Lord, teach us how to pray!

333. Matthew Gregory Lewis. 1775-1818. (Manual, p. 464.)

A warrior so bold and a virgin so bright

Conversed as they sat on the green ;
They gazed on each other with tender delight:
Alonzo the Brave was the name of the knight-

The maiden's the Fair Imogene.

“ And oh!” said the youth, “since to-morrow I go,

To fight in a far distant land,
Your tears for my absence soon ceasing to flow,
Some other will court you, and you will bestow

On a wealthier suitor your hand !”

“Oh! hush these suspicions,” Fair Imogene said,

“ Offensive to love and to me;
For, if you be living, or if you be dead,
I swear by the Virgin that none in your

Shall husband of Imogene be.

“If e'er, by caprice or by wealth led aside,

I forget my Alonzo the Brave,
God grant that, to punish my falsehood and pride,
Your ghost at the marriage may sit by my side-
May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride,

And bear me away to the grave !”

To Palestine hastened the hero so bold,

His love she lamented him sore;
But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when, behold!
A baron, all covered with jewels and gold,

Arrived at Fair Imogene's door.

His treasures, his presents, his spacious domain,

Soon made her untrue to her vows;
He dazzled her eyes, he bewilder'd her brain,
He caught her affections, so light and so vain,

And carried her home as his spouse.

And now had the marriage been blest by the priest;

The revelry now was begun;
The tables they groaned with the weight of the feast,
Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased,

When the bell at the castle tolled-one.

Then first with amazement Fair Imogene found

A stranger was placed by her side :
His air was terrific; he uttered no sound
He spake not, he moved not, he looked not around-

But earnestly gazed on the bride.
His vizor was closed, and gigantic his height,

His armour was sable to view;
All pleasure and laughter were hushed at his sight;
The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in affright;

The lights in the chamber burned blue.
His presence all bosoms appeared to dismay;

The guests sat in silence and fear;
At length spake the bride—while she trembled—“I pray
Sir knight, that your helmet aside you would lay,

And deign to partake of our cheer.”
The lady is silent—the stranger complies

His vizor he slowly unclosed;
Oh, God ! what a sight met Fair Imogene's eyes !
What words can express her dismay and surprise,

When a skeleton's head was exposed !
All present then uttered a terrified shout,

All turned with disgust from the scene;
The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out,
And sported his eyes and his temples about,

While the spectre addressed Imogene :-
“Behold me, thou false one, behold me!” he cried,

“Remember Alonzo the Brave!
God grants that, to punish thy falsehood and pride,
My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side-
Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride,

And bear thee away to the grave!”
Thus saying, his arms round the lady he wound,

While loudly she shrieked in dismay;
Then sunk with his prey through the wide-yawning ground,
Nor ever again was Fair Imogene found,

Or the spectre that bore her away.
Not long lived the baron; and none, since that time,

To inhabit the castle presume ;
For chronicles tell that, by order sublime,
There Imogene suffers the pain of her crime,

And mourns her deplorable doom.

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