+ Then a bull roars fra' the scaur, ilka rock's a | With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, An' I hear the trump o' war, an' the carse is fu' As if to balance the prone brow, o' men, Up an' doun the morn I ken the bugle-horn, An' whiddie, whuddie, whaddie, gang the auld wheels twa. Oppressive with its mind. Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans Let once my army-leader Lannes Guid Heavens! the Russian host! We maun Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew e'en gie up for lost! Gin ye gain the battle hae ye countit a' the cost? Ye may win a gran' name, but wad wee Jack come hame ? Dinna fecht, dinna fecht! there's room for us a'! An' whiddie, whuddie, whaddie, gang the auld wheels twa. In vain, in vain, in vain! They are marching near and far! Wi' swords an' wi' slings an' wi' instruments o' war! O, day sae dark an' sair! ilka man seven feet an' mair! I bow my head an' say, "Gin the Lord wad smite them a'!" An' whiddie, whuddie, whaddie, gang the auld wheels twa. Then forth fra' their ban' there steps an armèd man, His tairge at his breast an' his claymore in his han', His gowd pow glitters fine an' his shadow fa's behin', I think o' great Goliath as he stan's before them a', An' whiddie, whuddie, whaddie, gang the auld wheels twa. To meet the Philistine leaps a laddie fra' our line, O, my heart! O, my heart! 't is that wee lad o' mine! I start to my legs - an' doun fa' the eggs - O Jock, my Hielan' lad-O Jock, my Hielan' lad, Never till I saw thee that moment was I glad! Aye sooner sud thou dee before thy mother's ee' Than a man o' the clan sud hae stept out but thee! An' sae I cry to God while the hens cackle a', An' whiddie, whuddie, whaddie, gang the auld wheels twa. SIDNEY DOBELL. INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP. You know we French stormed Ratisbon: Stood on our storming-day; A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy, By just his horse's mane, a boy : "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans The chief's eye flashed; but presently A film the mother-eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes: "I'm killed, sire!" And, his chief beside, Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit, Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, "T was a moonset at starting; but while we drew Called my Roland his pet name, my horse with So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!" As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the and anon His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on. ground; And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. ROBERT BROWNING. THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW. O, THAT last day in Lucknow fort! To yield to that foe meant worse than death; By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, It was one day more of smoke and roar, "Stay spur! Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her; quick wheeze And then it would all be done. There was one of us, a corporal's wife, A fair, young, gentle thing, Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and stag- Wasted with fever in the siege, gering knees, And her mind was wandering. She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid, "Oh! then please wauken me." She slept like a child on her father's floor, "How they'll greet us!"— and all in a mo- It was smoke and roar and powder-stench, ment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight And hopeless waiting for death; And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child, Of the news which alone could save Aix from I sank to sleep; and I had my dream her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, Of an English village-lane, They listened for life; the rattling fire Far off, and the far-off roar, Were all; and the colonel shook his head, But Jessie said, "The slogan's done; The Campbells are comin'? It's no a dream; We heard the roar and the rattle afar, So the men plied their work of hopeless war, HUDIBRAS' SWORD AND DAGGER. His puissant sword unto his side To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets, Of somebody to hew and hack. The peaceful scabbard, where it dwelt, This sword a dagger had, his page, SAMUEL BUTLER. HOTSPUR'S DESCRIPTION OF A FOP. BUT I remember, when the fight was done, He gave his nose, and took 't away again ;- With many holiday and lady terms He questioned me; among the rest, demanded My prisoners in your majesty's behalf. I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, Out of my grief and my impatience, He should, or he should not; for he made me mad Of guns, and drums, and wounds, God save the mark! And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS; OR, THE BRITISH SOLDIER IN CHINA. ["Some Seiks, and a private of the Buffs, having remained behind with the grog-carts, fell into the hands of the Chinese. On the next day they were brought before the authorities and ordered to per form Kotor. The Seiks obeyed, but Moyse, the English soldier, declared he would not prostrate himself before any Chinaman alive, and was immediately knocked upon the head, and his body thrown upon a dunghill." - China Correspondent of the "London Times." LAST night, among his fellow roughs, He jested, quaffed, and swore; To-day, beneath the foeman's frown, Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught, Bewildered, and alone, A heart, with English instinct fraught, Ay, tear his body limb from limb, He only knows that not through him Far Kentish hop-fields round him seemed, Yes, honor calls! - with strength like steel He put the vision by; "The Buffs" are the East Kent regiment. |