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66 AND WE RISE UP LESS SELFISH, HAVING KNOWN-(L. E. LANDON)

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And naked swords, and faces dark as guilt,
A rush of feet, a bursting forth of flame,

Curses, and crashing boards, and infant words
Praying for mercy, and then childish screams
Of fear and pain. There were these the last night
The white walls of my cottage stood; they bound
And flung me down beside the oak, to watch
How the red fire gathered, like that of hell.

"OH, GLORIOUS IS THE GIFTED POET'S LOT: TO BE COMPANION OF THE HEART'S LEAST EARTHLY HOUR;

THE VOICE OF LOVE AND SADNESS, CALLING FORTH TEARS FROM THEIR SILENT FOUNTAIN."-L. E. LANDON.

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["They bound and flung me down beside the oak."]

There sprang one to the lattice, and leant forth,
Gasping for the fresh air,-my own fair girl!
My only one! The vision haunts me still:
The white arms raised to heaven, and the long hair,
Bright as the light beside it, stiff on the head
Upright, from terror. In th' accursed glare
We knew each other; and I heard a cry
Half tenderness, half agony, -a crash,—
The roof fell in-I saw my child no more!

PART IN DEEP GRIEF, YET THAT GRIEF NOT OUR OWN."-LANDON.

"LIKE WOMAN'S SOOTHING INFLUENCE ON MAN, ENTHUSIASM IS UPON THE MIND;-(L. E. LANDON)

'THE PAINTER'S GLORIOUS ART, WHICH FORMS (LANDON)

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A cloud closed round me, a deep thunder-cloud,
Half darkness and half fire. At length sense came,
With a rememb'ring, like that which a dream

Leaves, of vague horrors; but the heavy chain,
The loathsome straw which was mine only bed,
The sickly light through the dim bars, the damp,
The silence, were realities; and then

I lay on the cold stones, and wept aloud,
And prayed the fever to return again,
And bring death with it. Yet did I escape.-
Again I drank the fresh blue air of heaven,
And felt the sunshine laugh upon my brow;

I thought then I would seek my desolate home,
And die where it had been. I reached the place :
The ground was bare and scorched, and in the midst
Was a black heap of ashes. Franticly

I groped amid them, ever and anon

Meeting some human fragment, skulls and bones
Shapeless and cinders, till I drew a curl,

A long and beautiful curl of sunny hair,
Stainless and golden, as but just then severed,
A love-gift from the head :-I knew the hair—
It was my daughter's! There I stood, and howled
Curses upon that night. There came a voice,
There came a gentle step ;-even on that heap
Of blood and ashes did I kneel, and pour
To the great God my gratitude! That curl
Was wet with tears of happiness; that step,
That voice, were sweet familiar ones,-one child,
My eldest son, was sent me from the grave!
That night he had escaped !......

We left the desolate valley, and we went
Together to the mountains and the woods,

A WORLD MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN THIS."-L. E. LANDON.

SOFTENING AND BEAUTIFYING THAT WHICH IS TOO HARSH AND SULLEN IN ITSELF."-L. E. LANDON.

"FROM EARLIEST CHILDHOOD ALL TOO WELL AWARE OF THE UNCERTAIN NATURE OF OUR JOYS,-L. E. L.)

254

"MUSIC MOVES US, AND WE KNOW NOT WHY ;-(L. E. LANDON)

L. E. LANDON.

And there inhabited in love and peace,
Till a strong spirit came upon men's hearts,

And roused them to avenge their many wrongs.
Yet stood they not in battle, and the arm
Of the oppressor was at first too mighty.

Albeit I have lived to see their bonds

Rent like burnt flax, yet much of blood was spilt
Or ever the deliverance was accomplished.

We fled in the dark night. At length the moon
Rose on the midnight,—when I saw the face
Of my last child was ghastly white, and set
In the death-agony, and from his side

The life-blood came like tears; and then I prayed
That he would rest, and let me staunch the wound.
He motioned me to fly, and then lay down
Upon the rock, and died! This is his grave,
His home and mine. Ask ye now why I dwell

Upon the rock, and loathe the vale beneath?

[From the "Sketches from History."-The "Solemn League and Covenant" was an instrument directed against the introduction of Popery and Prelacy into Scotland, ratified by the Scotch Parliament, July 15, 1644. Its adherents, after the Restoration, maintained its principles against the government of Charles II.-which sought to restore to Scotland its Episcopal Church -and for twenty years suffered the severest persecution. Though their principles were wholly opposed to the great cause of religious toleration, yet, by their gallant resistance to the arbitrary measures of the Stuarts, they indirectly favoured its advance, and contributed in no unimportant degree to the Revolution of 1688. Their sufferings and their heroism have been the theme of many able pens. "These people," says Lord Macaulay, “in defiance of the law, persisted in meeting to worship God after their own fashion. Driven from the towns, they assembled on heaths and mountains. Attacked by the civil power, they, without scruple, repelled force by force. conventicle they mustered in arms. They repeatedly broke out into open rebellion. They were easily defeated, and mercilessly punished; but neither defeat nor punishment could subdue their spirit. Hunted down like wild beasts, tortured till their bones were beaten flat, imprisoned by hundreds, hanged by scores, exposed at one time to the license of soldiers from England, abandoned at another time to the mercy of troops of marauders from the Highlands, they still stood at bay in a mood so savage that the boldest and mightiest oppressor could not but dread the audacity of their despair."]

At every

WE FEEL THE TEARS, BUT CANNOT TRACE THEIR SOURCE."-LANDON.

IT IS DELICIOUS TO ENJOY, YET KNOW NO AFTER-CONSEQUENCE WILL BE TO WEEP."-L. E. LANDON.

"I DO BELIEVE THE TALE.

I FEEL ITS TRUTH IN MY VAIN ASPIRATIONS, IN THE DREAMS-(L. E.

LANDON)

"WHO SAY THAT THIS WORLD LABOURS WITH A CURSE,LANDON)

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IOLETS!-deep blue violets!*
April's loveliest coronets!

There are no flowers grow in the vale,
Kissed by the dew, wooed by the gale,--
None by the dew of the twilight wet,
So sweet as the deep blue violet !

I do remember how sweet a breath

Came with the azure light of a wreath
That hung round the wild harp's golden chords,
Which rang to my dark-eyed lover's words.
I have seen that dear harp rolled
With gems of the East and bands of gold;
But it never was sweeter than when set
With leaves of the deep-blue violet !
And when the grave shall open for me,-
I care not how soon that time may be,—
Never a rose shall grow on that tomb,
It breathes too much of hope and of bloom;
But there be that flower's meek regret,
The bending and deep blue violet !

[From "The Improvisatrice, and Other Poems."]

"Long as there are violets,
They shall have a place in story.'

WORDSWORTH.

THAT IT IS FALLEN FROM ITS FIRST ESTATE?"—L. E. LANDON.

THAT ARE REVEALINGS OF ANOTHER WORLD, MORE PURE, MORE PERFECT THAN OUR WEARY ONE."-LANDON.

"THERE ARE SOME TEARS WE WOULD NOT WISH TO DRY,LANDOR)

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Walter Savage Landor.

[OWING to certain defects of character and temperament, the fame of Walter Savage Landor will never be in proportion to his genius. He thought deeply, reasoned closely; had a powerful imagination, and a singular insight into the weaker part of our human nature; wrote a nervous and classical style, remarkable for happy turns of expression, and brightened by imagery always as graceful as it was appropriate. Yet his moody egotism, which continually committed him to the assertion of the most offensive crotchets, and his absolute want of faith in man's loftier aims and aspirations, have irretrievably marred his best works, limited his popularity, and crippled his influence.

He was born at Ipsley Court, Warwickshire, on the 30th of January 1775; educated at Rugby and Trinity College, Oxford; in 1808, joined the Spaniards in their resistance to the French; took up his residence at Florence in 1815; returned to England, and settled at Bath; and closed his long, active, and somewhat stormy career, on the 17th of September 1864.

"Count

"The

We enumerate his principal works: "Gebir," an epic poem;
Julian," a tragedy; "Imaginary Conversations," a series of dialogues
supposed to have taken place between various illustrious personages;
Last Fruit off an Old Tree;" and "Dry Sticks, fagoted by Walter Savage
Landor." His minor poems are very numerous.]

"WE HURRY TO THE RIVER WE MUST CROSS, AND SWIFTER DOWNWARD EVERY FOOTSTEP WENDS;-(WALTER S. LANDOR)

HAPPY WHO REACH IT ERE THEY COUNT THE LOSS OF HALF THEIR FACULTIES AND HALF THEIR FRIENDS."-LANDOR.

W

THE SPIRIT OF FREEDOM.

E are what suns, and winds, and waters make us;
The mountains are our sponsors, and the rills
Fashion and win their nursling with their smiles.
But where the land is dim from tyranny,
Their tiny pleasures occupy the place
Of glories and of duties; as the feet
Of fabled faeries, when the sun goes down,
Trip o'er the grass where wrestlers strove by day.
Then Justice, called the Eternal One above,
Is more inconstant than the buoyant form
That sprung into existence from the froth
Of ever-varying ocean; what is best

Then becomes worse; what loveliest, most deformed.

AND SOME THAT STRAY BEFORE THEY DROP AND DIE."-LANDOR.

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