Tail my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, age, "Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword! shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen - calm Bingen on the Rhine! "Tell my sisters not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread; But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, For their brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die! And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name To listen to him kindly, without regret and shame ; And to hang the old sword in its place(my father's sword and mine), For the honor of old Bingen - dear Bingen on the Rhine! not a sister, - in happy days gone by, - You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning, O friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourn. ing! Tell her the last night of my life — (for, ere the moon be risen, My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, I heard, or seemed to hear, The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear; And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still; But we'll meet no more at Bingen-loved Bingen on the Rhine'" His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his gasp was childish weak And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn ! Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen- fair Bingen on the Rhine. 20. THE TORCH OF LIBERTY. - Thomas Moore. I SAW it all in Fancy's glass Herself the fair, the wild magician, I saw the expectant Nations stand, The clear, though struggling, glory burn. "T was, in itself, a joy to see; And each, as she received the flame, And lit a flame, like Albion's, steady. The splendid gift then Gallia took, As she would set the world a-blazing! Shrank back, and shuddered at its glare' Next, Spain, so new was light to her, That fell upon her shrine could stir, "T was quenched, and all again was dark! Yet, no -not quenched, a treasure, worth So much to mortals, rarely dies: Who next received the flame? Alas! Unworthy Naples. Shame of shames, and fled ! And fallen it might have long remained; And waved it round her beauteous brow. Who thus in song their voices blended: "Shine, shine forever, glorious Flame, 21. THE SAILOR-BOY'S DREAM.-Dimond. IN slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay, His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch, A father bends o'er him with looks of delight, His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, Joy quickens his pulse-all his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest "O God! thou hast blest me, I ask for no more.' Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye! Like mountains the billows tumultuously swell; In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save;· Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, And the death-angel flaps his dark wings o'er the wave. O, sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight! In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss; Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright, Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss? O, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again Shall love, home or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge. On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid, Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away, O, sailor-boy' sailor-boy' peace to thy soul! DAMON AND PYTHIAS. -Adaptation of a translation from Schiller, by Sir L Bulwer Lytton. "Now, Dionysius, tyrant, die!" Stern Damon with his poniard crept: "What wouldst thou with thy knife? Reply!". "The death-cross shall thy guerdon be.' "I am prepared for death, nor pray," The tyrant mused, and smiled, and said, And Damon sought his friend: "The king One clasp of hands—and Pythias said Down the great rains unending bore! Down from the hills the torrents rushed! |