The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck cut by that steed, in his flight, 10. It was twelve by the village clock, When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 11. It was one by the village-clock, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. 12. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, 13. You know the rest. In the books you have read 14. So through the night rode Paul Revere ; And so through the night went his cry of alarm A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, LXXVII.-ALEXANDER THE GREAT, AND A ROBBER. JOHN AIKIN. Alexander. What, art thou the Thracian robber, of whose exploits I have heard so much? Robber. I am a Thracian, and a soldier. Alex. A soldier!—a thief, a plunderer, an assassin! the pest of the country; I could honor thy courage, but I must detest and punish thy crimes. Robber. What have I done, of which you can complain? Alex. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority, violated the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the persons and properties of thy fellow subjects? Robber. Alexander! I am your captive-I must hear what you please to say, and endure what you please to inflict. But my soul is unconquered; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man. Alex. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the advantage of my power, to silence those with whom I deign to converse. Robber. I must then answer your question by another. How have you passed your life? Alex. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. Among the brave, I have been the bravest: among sover eigns, the noblest: among conquerors, the mightiest. Robber And does not Fame speak of me too? Was there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band? Was there ever- but I scorn to boast. You yourself know that I have not been easily subdued. Alex. Still, what are you but a robber—a base, dishonest robber? Robber. And what is a conqueror? Have not you, too, gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair fruits of peace and industry; plundering, ravaging, killing, without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable Just for dominion? All that I have done to a single district with a hundred followers, you have done to whole nations with a hundred thousand. If I have stripped individuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is, then, the difference, but that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have been able to become a mightier robber than I? Alex. But if I have taken like a king, I have given like a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded greater. I have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy. Robber. I, too, have freely given to the poor what I took from the rich. I have established order and discipline among the most ferocious of mankind, and have stretched out my protecting arm over the oppressed. I know, indeed, little of the philosophy you talk of, but I believe neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world for half the mischief we have done it. Alcx. Leave me.—Take off his chains, and use him well. -Are we then so much alike? Alexander like a robber? Let me reflect. LXXVIII.—ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE. E. L. BEERS. 1. "Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey, And I fain would hear the south wind On the shores of Tennessee. 2. Mournful though the ripples murmur, As they still the story tell, How no vessels float the banner Dreaming that again I see Stars and stripes on sloop and shallop 3. "And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting For Death's last dispatch to come, If that exiled starry banner Should come proudly sailing home, 4. "Massa's berry kind to Pompey; But old darkey's happy here, Where he's tended corn and cotton For dese many a long gone year No one tends her grave like me: 5. "'Pears like, she was watching MassaIf Pompey should beside him stay, Mebbe she'd remember better How for him she used to pray; 6. Silently the tears were rolling Down the poor old dusky face, Of the rolling Tennessee ; 7. Master, dreaming of the battle Where he fought by Marion's side, 9. Thus he watches cloud-born shadows Glide from tree to mountain-crest, Softly creeping, aye and ever To the river's yielding breast. Ha! above the foliage yonder Something flutters wild and free! "Massa! Massa! Hallelujah! The flag's come back to Tennessee! 10. "Pompey, hold me on your shoulder, Help me stand on foot once more, That I may salute the colors As they pass my cabin door. |