I hear it faintly-louder yet!
What clogs my heavy breath?
Up, all!-and shout for Rudiger,
'Defiance unto death!'"

9. Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel,
And rose a deafening cry,

That made the torches flare around,

10. "But I defy him!-let him come!"
Down rang the massy cup,

While from its sheath the ready blade
Came flashing half-way up;

And with the black and heavy plumes
Scarce trembling on his head,

There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair,
Old Rudiger sat-dead!

A. G. GREENE.

CL.-SONG OF THE GREEKS.

1. AGAIN to the battle, Achaians!

Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance;
Our land-the first garden of Liberty's tree—
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free,
For the cross of our faith is replanted,

The pale dying crescent is daunted,

And we march that the foot-prints of Mahomet's slaves May be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves. Their spirits are hovering o'er us,

And the sword shall to glory restore us.

2. Ah! what though no succor advances,

Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances

Are stretched in our aid?-Be the combat our own!
And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone;
For we've sworn by our country's assaulters,
By the virgins they 've dragged from our altars.

By our massacred patriots, our children in chains,
By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins,
That, living, we will be victorious,

Or that, dying, our deaths shall be glorious.

3. A breath of submission we breathe not:

The sword that we 've drawn we will sheathe not;
Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid,
And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade.
Earth may hide, waves engulf, fire consume us;
But they shall not to slavery doom us:

If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves-
But we've smote them already with fire on the waves,
And new triumphs on land are before us

To the charge!-heaven's banner is o'er us.

4. This day shall ye blush for its story?

Or brighten your lives with its glory?—

Our women—
-0, say, shall they shriek in despair,
Or embrace us from conquest, with wreaths in their hair?
Accursed may his memory blacken,

If a coward there be that would slacken

Till we 've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth
Being sprung from, and named for, the god-like of earth.
Strike home! and the world shall revere us

As heroes descended from heroes.

5. Old Greece lightens up with emotion!
Her inlands, her isles of the ocean,

Fanes rebuilt, and fair towns, shall with jubilee ring,
And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon's spring.
Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness,

That were cold, and extinguished in sadness;
While our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms,
Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms-

When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens

Shall have crimsoned the beaks of our ravens!

CAMPBELL.

CLI. WARREN'S ADDRESS AT THE BUNKER HILL BATTLE.

1. Stand! the ground 's your own, my braves!

Will ye give it up to slaves?

Will ye look for greener graves?

Hope ye mercy still?

What's the mercy despots feel?
Hear it in that battle peal!
Read it-on yon bristling steel!
Ask it-ye who will.

2. Tear ye foes who kill for hire?
Will ye to your homes retire?
Look behind you! they 're afire!
And before you, see

Who have done it! From the vale
On they come! and will ye quail?
Leaden rain and iron hail

Let their welcome be!

3. In the God of battles trust!
Die we may-and die we must:
But, O! where can dust to dust
Be consigned so well,

As where heaven its dews shall shed
On the martyred patriot's bed,

And the rocks shall raise their head,

Of his deeds to tell?

PIERPONT.

CLII.-TELL ON HIS NATIVE HILLS.

1. О, with what pride I used

To walk these hills, and look up to my God,

And bless him that the land was free. 'T was free

From end to end, from cliff to lake 't was free!

Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,
And plow our valleys, without asking leave!
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow
In very presence of the regal sun!

2. How happy was it then! I loved Its very storms. Yes, I have sat

In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake,
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge
The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head,
And think I had no master save his own!

3. On yonder jutting cliff-o'ertaken there
By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along,

And while gust followed gust more furiously.

As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink,

And I have thought of other lands, whose storms
Are summer-flaws to those of mine, and just

Have wished me there-the thought that mine was free
Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head,
And cried in thraldom to that furious wind,

Blow on!-this is the land of liberty!

KNOWLES

CLIII. BRUCE'S ADDRESS.

1. Scors, who have with Wallace bled,
Scots, whom Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to glorious victory!

2. Now's the day, and now 's the hour-
See the front of battle lower-
See approach proud Edward's power-
Edward, chains and slavery!

3. Who would be a traitor knave?
Who would fill a coward's grave?
Who so base as be a slave?

Traitor! coward! turn, and flee!

4. Who for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword would strongly draw?
Freeman stand!-or freeman fa'!
Caledonia, on with me!

5. By oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall they shall be free!

6. Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty 's in every blow!

Forward! let us do or die!

BURNA

CLIV.-MACBETH TO THE DAGGER.

1. IS THIS a dagger which I see before me,

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee

I have thee not; and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind? a false creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I draw.

2. Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still;
And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing!-
It is the bloody business, which informs

Thus to mine eyes.

3. Now o'er the one-half world,

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtained sleep: now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and withered Murder,
-Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl's his watch-thus with his stealthy pace,
Toward his design moves like a ghost.

4. Thou sure and firm-set earth,

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear

The very stones prate of my whereabout;

And take the present horror from the time,

Which now suits with it. While I threat, he lives-
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.

SHAKSPEARE.

CLV.-SPARTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS AT CAPUA.

1. YE call me chief; and ye do well to call him chief' who for twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape of man or beast the broad empire of Rome could furnish, and who never yet lowered his arm. If there be one among you who can say, that ever, in public fight or private brawl, my actions did belie my tongue, let him stand forth, and