Assyria's king appears. He shouts: he flies:
He points towards the rocks;—he waves them on.
A warrior meets him: sword with sword they fight --
Arabia's monarch, sure.-But both are lost,-
The waves of fight roll o'er them—

Meantime, along the sapphire bridge of heaven,
Far, far beyond the canopy of cloud

That mantled earth, the day-god's lightning steeds
Through the pure ether rapt his chariot-wheels,
Sounding harmonious thunder. To the height
They had ascended; and the steep decline
Half-way had measured; yet the hard-fought field
Still was contested; for, like men resolved
On that one day to peril all to come-
To die, perchance, but never to submit-

The Assyrian captains strove; and, with like fire,
Their soldiers' hearts inflamed. Aid too had come-
Chariots, and horse, and foot; who, when the scale,
Charged with Assyria's doom, was sinking fast,
Twice had its fall arrested. Once again,
When seemed that utter ruin hovered nigh,
The chariot of Assyria's beauteous queen
From rank to rank flew on: and, as they saw,
The warriors' breasts, as with new soul infused,
Like beacons freshly kindled, burst at once
Into intensest flame. Unhelmed, unarmed,

Her ebon hair loose flying in the wind,
She raised aloft her arms, her voice uplift,

And bade them on to glory. As the star
Of morning, while the sun yet sleeps below,
And the grey mist is on the dewy earth,
Her face was pale and radiant. Like a shape
From heaven descended, and to mortal harm
Impassive, gloriously and fearlessly

Through the death-laden air she flew along.
Her spirit fired the host; with deafening shouts
Onward they bore; and, for a time, the Medes
Compelled, though slowly, backward.

MARY HOWITT.

THE BALLAD OF RICHARD BURNELL.

PART I.

FROM his bed rose Richard Burnell

At the early dawn of day,

Ere the bells of London city
Welco.ned in the morn of May.

Early on that bright May morning
Rose the young man from his bed,
He, the happiest man in London,
And thus to himself he said:-

"When the men and maids are dancing, And the folk are mad with glee, In the Temple's shady gardens

Let me walk and talk with thee!'

"Thus my Alice spake last even,

Thus with trembling lips she spake, And those blissful words have kept me Through the live-long night awake.

"Tis a joy beyond expression,

When we first, in truth, perceive That the love we long have cherished Will not our fond hearts deceive!

"Never dared I to confess it

Deeds of homage spoke instead;

True love is its own revealer,

She must know it! oft I said.

"All my words, and all my actions,
But one meaning could impart ;
Love can love's least sign interpret,
And she reads my inmost heart.

"And her good old merchant-father-
Father he has been to me-
Saw the love grow up between us,
Saw-and was well pleased to see.

"Seven years I truly served him,
Now my time is at an end;

Master is he now no longer :
Father will be-has been friend.

"I was left betimes an orphan,

Heir unto great merchant-wealth,

But the iron rule of kinsfolk

Dimmed my youth, and sapped my health.

"Death had been my early portion

Had not my good guardian come;

He, the father of my Alice,

And conveyed me to his home.

"Here began a new existence,—

Then how new the love of friends! And for all the child's afflictions

Each one strove to make amends.

"Late my spring-time came, but quickly Youth's rejoicing currents run,

And my inner life unfolded

Like a flower before the sun.

"Hopes, and aims, and aspirations Grew within the growing boy; Life had new interpretation;

Manhood brought increase of joy.

"In and over all was Alice,

Life-infusing, like the spring;

My soul's soul! even joy without her
Was a poor and barren thing!

"And she spoke last eve at parting,
'When the folk are mad with glee,

In the Temple's pleasant gardens

Let me walk and talk with thee!'

"As she spoke, her sweet voice trembled,—
Love such tender tones can teach!
And those words have kept me waking,
And the manner of her speech!