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On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying fleet.
But, hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat.

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!
Arm! arm! it is it is

- the cannon's opening roar!

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness:
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated—who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise?

And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering with white lips- The foe they come !
they come !"

66

BYRON.

THE AVENGING CHILDE.

HURRAH! hurrah! avoid the way of the Avenging Childe;
His horse is swift as sands that drift, — an Arab of the wild;
His gown is twisted round his arm, -a ghastly cheek he wears;
And in his hand, for deadly harm, a hunting knife he bears.

Avoid that knife in battle-strife: --- that weapon short and thin, The dragon's gore hath bathed it o'er, seven times 't was steeped therein;

Seven times the smith hath proved its pith,--it cuts a coulter through; In France the blade was fashioned, from Spain the shaft it drew.

He sharpens it, as he doth ride, upon his saddle-bow, -
He sharpens it on either side, he makes the steel to glow:

He rides to find Don Quadros, that false and faitour knight;
His glance of ire is hot as fire, although his cheek be white.

He found him standing by the king within the judgment-hall;
He rushed within the baron's ring, he stood before them all;
Seven times he gazed and pondered, if he the deed should do ; [flew.
Eight times distraught he looked and thought -- then out his dagge:

He stabbed therewith at Quadros :- - the king did step between ;
He pierced his royal garment of purple wove with green:
He fell beneath the canopy, upon the tiles he lay — [thou slay?
"Thou traitor keen, what dost thou mean thy king why wouldst

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Now pardon! pardon!" cried the Childe," I stabbed not, king, at thee,

But him, that caitiff, blood-defiled, who stood beside thy knee : Eight brothers were we,-in the land might none more loving be,They all are slain by Quadros' hand, they all are dead but me!

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"Good king, I fain would wash the stain,- for vengeance is my cry:
This murderer with sword and spear to battle I defy!
But all took part with Quadros, except one lovely May,-
Except the king's fair daughter, none word for him would say.

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She took their hands, she led them forth into the court below;
She bade the ring be guarded, she bade the trumpet blow;
From lofty place for that stern race the signal she did throw:-
"With truth and right the Lord will fight, together let them go "

The one is up, the other down the hunter's knife is bure;
It cuts the lace beneath the face, it cuts through beard and hair;
Right soon that knife hath quenched his life, the head is sundered
sheer;

Then gladsome smiled the Avenging Childe, and fixed it on his spear.

But when the king beholds him bring that token of his truth,
Nor scorn nor wrath his bosom hath : "Kneel down, thou noble

youth;

Kneel down, kneel down, and kiss my crown, I am no more thy foe; My daughter now may pay the vow she plighted long ago!"

LOCKHART.

THE POUNDER.

THE Christians have beleaguered the famous walls of Xeres,
Among them are Don Alvar and Don Diego Perez,

And many other gentlemen, who, day succeeding day,
Give challenge to the Saracen and all his chivalry.

When rages the hot battle before the gates of Xeres,
By trace of gore ye may explore the dauntless path of Perez.
No knight like Don Diego, no sword like his is found
In all the host, to hew the boast of paynims to the ground.

It fell one day when furiously they battled on the plain,
Diego shivered both his lance and trusty blade in twain ;
The Moors that saw it shouted, for esquire none was near,
To serve Diego at his need with falchion, mace, or spear.

-

Loud, loud he blew his bugle, sore troubled was his eye,
But by God's grace before his face there stood a tree full nigh,
An olive-tree with branches strong, close by the wall of Xeres,
"Yon goodly bough will serve, I trow," quoth Don Diego Perez.

A gnarled branch he soon did wrench down from that olive strong,
Which o'er his head-piece brandishing, he spurs among the throng.
God wot! full many a pagan must in his saddle reel !—
What leech may cure, what beadsman shrive, if once that weight
ye feel?

But when Don Alvar saw him thus bruising down the foe, Quoth he, "I've seen some flail-armed man belabor barley so, Sure mortal mold did ne'er enfold such mastery of power; Let's call Diego Perez THE POUNDER, from this hour."

LOCKHART

THE BULL-FIGHT OF GAZUL.

KING ALMANZOR of Granada, he hath bid the trumpet sound,
He hath summoned all the Moorish lords, from the hills and plains

around;

From Vega and Sierra, from Betis and Xenil,

They have come with helm and cuirass of gold and twisted steel.

'Tis the holy Baptist's feast they hold in royalty and state,
And they have closed the spacious lists beside the Alhambra's gate;
In gowns of black with silver laced, within the tented ring,
Eight Moors to fight the bull are placed, in presence of the king.

Eight Moorish lords of valor tried, with stalwart arm and true,
The onset of tne beasts abide, as they come rushing through ;
The deeds they 've done, the spoils they 've won, fill all with hope

and trust,

Yet, ere high in heaven appears the sun, they all have bit the dust!

Then sounds the trumpet clearly, then clangs the loud tambour, Make room, make room for Gazul!-throw wide, throw wide the

door!

Blow, blow the trumpet clearer still! more loudly strike the drum ! The Alcayde of Algava to fight the bull doth come.

And first before the King he passed, with reverence stooping low,
And next he bowed him to the Queen, and the Infantas all a-row;
Then to his lady's grace he turned, and she to him did throw
A scarf from out her balcony was whiter than the snow.

With the life-blood of the slaughtered lords all slippery is the sand. Yet proudly in the center hath Gazul ta'en his stand;

And ladies look with heaving breast, and lords with anxious eye, But firmly he extends his arm, his look is calm and high.

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Three bulls against the knight are loosed, and two come roaring on,
He rises high in stirrup, forth stretching his rejón;

Each furious beast upon the breast he deals him such a blow,
He blindly totters and gives back across the sand to go.

"Turn, Gazul-turn!" the people cry; the third comes up le

hind,

Low to the sand his head holds he, his nostrils snuff the wind;
The mountaineers that lead the steers without stand whispering

low,

"Now thinks this proud Alcayde to stun Harpado so?"

From Guadiana comes he not, he comes not from Xenil,
From Gaudalarif of the plain, or Barves of the hill;

But where from out the forest burst Xarama's waters clear,
Beneath the oak trees was he nursed, this proud and stately steer

-

Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil,
And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil.
His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow;
But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe.

Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near, From out the broad and wrinkled skull like daggers they appear; His neck is massy, like the trunk of some old knotted tree, Whereon the monster's shagged main, like billows curled, ye fee.

His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as night
Like a strong flail he holds his tail in fierceness of his might;
Like something molten out of iron, or hewn from forth the rock,
Haipado of Xarama stands, to bide the Alcayde's shock.

Now stops the drum; close, close they come; thrice meet, and thrice give back;

The white foam of Harpado lies on the charger's breast of black,-
The white foam of the charger on Harpado's front of dun ;-
Once more advance upon his lance - - once more thou fearless one'

-

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Once more, once more! in dust and gore to ruin must thou reel!
In vain, in vain thou tearest the sand with furious heel!
In vain, in vain, thou noble beast! I see, I see thee stagger,
Now keen and cold thy neck must hold the stern Alcayde's dagger!

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They have slipped a noose around his feet, six horses are brought in,
And away they drag Harpado with a loud and joyful din.
Now stoop thee, lady, from thy stand, and the ring of price bestow
Upon Gazul of Algava, that hath laid Harpado low!

LOCKHART.

ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CÆSAR'S BODY.

FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones:
So let it be with Cæsar! Noble Brutus
Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
For Brutus is an honorable man,

So are they all, all honorable men,
Come I to speak at Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honorable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:

Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honorable man.

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,

I thrice presented him a kingly crown;

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

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