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“Take my advice-whatever may betide,
THE TURKEY AND THE ANT.
A Turkey, tired of common food,
An Ant, who climbed beyond her reach,
you remark another's sin,
LOCHINVAR. O, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And, save his good broad-sword, he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered the Netherby hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, “ Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?!?"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ;“ Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide“ And now am I come with this lost love of mine, "To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 6. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, “That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.” The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the
сир. . She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,". Now tread we a measure !” said young
Lochin var. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace While her mother did fret and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bridemaidens whispered, “ 'Twere better by far - To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! “She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; " They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young
Lochinvar, There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby
clan; Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode, and they
ran; There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN. Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place ; Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour; Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain, The long remembered beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ;
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
THE DEATH OF MARMION.
For that she ever sung, “In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, “ Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying!"
So the notes rung;Avoid thee, Fiend !- with cruel hand, “ Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! “O look, my son, upon yon sign • Of the Redeemer's grace divine;
" O think on faith and bliss !By many a death-bed I have been, " And many a sinner's parting seen,
“ But never aught like this.”The war, that for a space did fail, Now trebly thundering swelled the gale,
And-Stanley! was the cry ;A light on Marmion's visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye: With dying hand, above his head, He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted “Victory! “Charge, Chester, Charge! On, Stanley, on!" Were the last words of Marmion.
and gown, and store of learned pelf,