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And then the whining school-boy with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school : And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow: Then the soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation-
Even in the cannon's mouth : And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
· Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shanks; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in the sound : Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion :
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing."
AS YOU LIKE IT.
Lochiel ! Lochiel, beware of the day
When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!
For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,
And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight:
They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown;
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!
Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,
What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?
Johnson, Shakspeare's contemporary, upon a convivial occasion, put the following question in order to pose him:
“ If but stage actors all the world display,
Where shall we find spectators for our play?"
To which the immortal bard unhesitatingly replied,
« Little or much of what we see we do,
We are both actors and spectators too."
"Tis thine, oh Glenullin ! whose bride shall await,
Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.
A steed comes at morning : no rider is there;
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Weep, Albin !* to death and captivity led!
Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead :
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave,
Culloden ! that reeks with the blood of the brave.
Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer !
Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,
Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight!
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.
Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn ?
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!
Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,
From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the north?
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high !
Ah! home led him speed-for the spoiler is nigh.
Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast
Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?
'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven
From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven.
Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height,
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;
Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return!
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,
And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.
False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan :
Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one !
They are true to the last of their blood and their breath,
And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock !
Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!
But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,
When Albin her claymore indignantly draws;
* The Gaelic appellation of Scotland, more particularly the Highlands.
When her bonnetted chieftains to victory crowd,
Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud;
All plaided and plumed in their tartan array
---Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day!
Though, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,
Yet man cannot cover what God would reveal:
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.
I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring
With the bloodhounds, that bark for thy fugitive king..
Lo! annointed by heaven with the vials of wrath,
Behold, where be flies on his desolate path!
Now, in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight:
Rise! rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!
'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors;
Culloden is lost, and my country deplores;
But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where?
For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.
Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn,
Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn?
Ah no! for a darker departure is near;
The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier ;
His death-bell is tolling; oh! mercy dispel,
Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell !'
Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs,
And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.
Accursed be the faggots, that blaze at his feet,
Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat,
With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale
LOCHIEL. ---Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale; For never shall Albin a destiny meet So black with dishonor-so foul in retreat. Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, unattainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! . And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
Metaphor is that figure which changes one thing into another, or a real subject into a figurative, and ideal one. If judiciously used it imparts beauty and often sublimity. A flight may sometimes be taken from this our earth, “ upon imagination's airy wing !” but the ærial traveller must first well try and feel the strength of his pinion, else he may resemble the Cretan in his fall, although not in his fame. The rule for reading or speaking metaphorical passages, is to give them in the spirit of the subjects whence the passages are taken.
“Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood."
HOME. "He is a rock opposed to the rude sea that beats against it- "
G. COLMAN THE YOUNGER. “ Where Andes, Giant of the western star"
“ He arose a collossal pillar to perpetuate to future ages---"
Metaphor and comparison being often confounded with each other, it is proper that the distinction should be pointed out. Metaphor, as has been said, absolutely changes one thing into another; as, for instance, speaking of a courageous man, we say he is a lion; when, by comparison, it would be he is like a lion.
“Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided: they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions.”
SAMUEL, i. 23.
" As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.”
- She came in all her beauty, like the moon from the cloud in the east. Loveliness was around her, as light. Her steps were like the music of songs.”
XX. PERSONIFICATION OR PROSOPOPEIA.
Personification is that figure by which we attribute life and motion to inanimate objects. It aspires to the utmost heights of poetry, and furnishes one of the best' tests by which an author's merits may be fairly judged; for nothing but genius will supply this most sublime poetic essential. Personification should generally be read or spoken in monotone ; so indeed should all passages which approach the sublime.
Examples. - Thou shalt take up this proverb against the king of Babylon, and say, how hath the oppressor ceased! the golden city ceased! The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked, and the sceptre of the rulers. He who smote the people in wrath with a continual stroke, he that ruled the nations in anger, is persecuted, and none hindereth. The whole earth. is at rest and is quiet: they break forth into singing. Yea, the fir-trees rejoice at thee, and the cedars of Lebanon, saying, since thou art laid down, no feller is come up against us. Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming : it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the