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We gazed, but not a man could speak!
With horror all aghast, –
We watched the quivering mast.
And of a lurid hue;-
Stood officers and crew.
“O, God! thy will be done!" Then suddenly a rifle grasped,
And aimed it at his son. "Jump, far out, boy, into the wave!
Jump, or I fire,” he said;
Jump, jump, boy!” He obeyed.
And for the ship struck out.
With many a manly shout.
Those wet arms round his neck, And folded to his heart his boy,
Then fainted on the deck.
DRIVING HOME THE COWS.
Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass,
He turned them into the river-lane; One after another he let them pass,
Then fastened the meadow bars again. Under the willows and over the hill,
He patiently followed their sober pace; The merry whistle for once was still,
And something shadowed the sunny face. Only a boy ! and his father had said
He never could let his youngest go: Two already were lying dead
Under the feet of the trampling foe. But after the evening work was done,
And the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp, Over his shoulder he slung his gun,
And stealthily followed the foot-path damp,
Across the clover and through the wheat,
With resolute heart and purpose grim, Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet,
And the blind bats ilitting startled him. Thrice since then had the lanes been white,
And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom; And now, when the cows came back at night,
The feeble father drove them home. For news had come to the lonely farm
That three were lying where two had lain; And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm
Could never lean on a son’s again. The summer day grew cool and late;
Ile went for the cows when the work was done; But down the lane, as he opened the gate,
He saw them coming, one by one, Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess,
Shaking their horns in the evening wind, Cropping the buttercups out of the grass
But who was it following close behind ?
The empty sleeve of army blue;
Locked out a face that the father knew ;-
And yield their dead unto life again;
In golden glory at last may wane.
For the heart must speak when the lips are dumba And under the silent evening skies
Together they followed the cattle home.
'Tis not the lack of gold, father,
Nor lack of worldly gear;
My friends are kind and dear;
They mourn to see my grief,
Can give my heart relief!
'Tis not that she's unkind;
I know her constant mind,
That chills my laboring breast, -
I ate, and can't digesi!
DAMON AND PYTHIAS; OR, TRUE FRIENDSHIP.
William Peter. “HERE, guards!" pale with fear, Dionysius, cries, “Here guards, yon intruder arrest!
'Tis Damon-but ha! speak, what means this disguise ? And the dagger which gleams in thy vest ?". “'Twas to free,” says the youth, “this dear land from its chains ! "Free the land ! wretched fool, thou shalt die for thy pains.” “I am ready to die—I ask not to live, Yet three days of respite, perhaps thou may'st give,
For to-morrow, my sister will wed,
While a friend remains here in my stead.” With a sneer on his brow, and a curse in his breast, “Thou shalt have,” cries the tyrant, “shalt have thy rejuest;
To thy sister repair, and her nuptials attend,
That delay shall be death to thy friend !"
Consenting, rushed forth to be bound in his room;
Was returning with joy to his doom.
But the heavens interpose,
Stern the tempest aroge,
Swoll'n to torrents, the rills
Rushed in foam from the hills,
And still darker his lorn heart's emotion ;
And the stream was becoming an ocean.
“O, hush with Thy breath this loud sea;
My friend-he must perish for me!"
And hour after hour hurried on ;
Thanks to Heaven's outstretched hand-it is won ! But new perils await him; scarce 'scaped from the flood
And intent on redeeming each moment's delay, As onward he sped, lo! from out a dark wood,
A band of fiercé robbers encompassed his way. “What would ye ?” he cried, “save my life, I have nought;" "Nay, that is the king's.”—Then swift having caught A club from the nearest, and swinging it round With might more than man's, he laid three on the ground,
While the rest hurried off in dismay.
Soon shoots through his frame,
“From the flood and the foe,
Thou'st redeemed me, and oh!
Scarce uttered the word,
When startled he heard
And lo! a small rill
Trickied down from the hill!
And now the sun's beams through the deep boughs are glowing, And rock, tree, and mountain, their shadows are throwing,
Iluge and grim, o'er the meadow's bright bloom; And two travelers are seen coming forth on their way, And just as they pass, he hears one of them say
“'Tis the hour that was fixed for his doom i"
Still anguish gives strength to his wavering flight;
The domes of far Syracuse blend ;--
No cares can avail for thy friend.
So think of preserving thy own.
Ere this his brave spirit has flown!
Thy return never doubting to see;
Or shake his assurance in thee!"
“And is it too late? and can not I save
Ilis dear life? then, at least, let me share in luis grave.
But ne'er shall he doubt of our friendship and truth." 'Tis sunset: and Damon arrives at the gate,
Sees the scaffold and multitudes gazing below;
Already the deathsman stands armed for the blow;
And are weeping for joy and despair;
Which swift to the monarch they bear;
Loltarately one on onbollen von