O, some sweet mission of true love must urge This boy will bear a Scheik's chibouk, and that them to the shore, a Bey's jerreed. -- They bring some lover to his bride, who sighs in O, some are for the arsenals by beauteous DarBaltimore ! All, all asleep within each roof along that rocky street, And these must be the lover's friends, with gently gliding feet. A stifled gasp! a dreamy noise ! The roof is in a flame! From out their beds, and to their doors, rush maid and sire and dame, And meet, upon the threshold stone, the gleaming saber's fall, danelles, And o'er each black and bearded face the white 'Tis two long years since sunk the town beneath or crimson shawl. that bloody band, The yell of "Allah!" breaks above the prayer And all around its trampled hearths a larger and shriek and roar concourse stand, O blessed God! the Algerine is lord of Baltimore! Where high upon a gallows-tree a yelling wretch yield their store, There's one hearth well avenged in the sack of PARRHASIUS stood, gazing forgetfully Upon the canvas. There Prometheus lay, Midsummer morn, in woodland nigh, the birds The vulture at his vitals, and the links begin to sing; Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh; And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim | Your heart, old man! Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth lives forgive-ha! on your Let him not faint! rack him till he revives ! - "Vain, — vain, give o'er. His eye Glazes apace. He does not feel you now, — Were like the winged god's breathing from his Stand back! I'll paint the death-dew on his brow! Gods! if he do not die, And he hath passed in safety Unto his woful home, And there ta'en horse to tell the camp THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. LAMENT OF VIRGINIUS. FROM "APPIUS AND VIRGINIA." VIRGINIUS. Farewell, my sweet Virginia; never, never, Shall I taste fruit of the most blessed hope Of glittering steel hung 'bout his armèd neck; When I first taught thee how to go, to speak; And when my wounds have smarted, I have sung With an unskillful, yet a willing voice, To bring my girl asleep. O my Virginia, When we began to be, began our woes, Increasing still, as dying life still grows! JOHN WEBSTER. A DAGGER OF THE MIND. FROM "MACBETH." image of a dagger in the air, and thus soliloquizes:] It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good night. He is about it: [Macbeth, before the murder of Duncan, meditating alone, sees the The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mark their charge with snores: I have drugged their possets, Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me That death and nature do contend about them, clutch thee : · I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going; It is the bloody business, which informs Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtained sleep; witchcraft celebrates |