A WOMAN'S SHORTCOMINGS. HE has laughed as softly as if she sighed; Unless you can feel, when left by one, She has counted six, and Unless you can know, when unpraised by his over, Of a purse well filled and a heart well tried Oh, each a worthy lover! They "give her time," for her soul must slip Where the world has set the grooving; breath, Unless you can muse in a crowd all day She will lie to none with her Unless you can love as the angels may fair red lip; But love seeks truer loving. She trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb, As her thoughts were beyond recalling, With a glance for one, and a glance for some, From her eyelids rising and falling; Speaks common words with a blushful air; Hears bold words unreproving; But her silence says what she never will swear, And love seeks better loving. Go, lady, lean to the night-guitar And drop a smile to the bringer, Then smile as sweetly when he is far At the voice of an indoor singer. Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes, Glance lightly on their removing, And join new vows to old perjuries, But dare not call it loving. Unless With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast Through behoving and unbehoving; Unless you can die when the dream is past, Oh never call it loving! One weary night, when years went by, you can think, when the song is done, Broke on my vision, pure and bright No other is soft in the rhythm; There gleamed a cloth of gold. And twice the lines of Saint Antoine the More idly than the summer flies French tirailDutch in vain assailed, leurs rush round; For town and slope were filled with fort and As stubble to the lava-tide French squadrons flanking battery, strew the ground; And well they swept the English ranks and Bombshell and grape and round-shot pour : Dutch auxiliary. still on they marched and fired; As vainly through De Barri's wood the Brit- Fast from each volley grenadier and voltiish soldiers burst The French artillery drove them back dimin ished and dispersed. geur retired. "Push on, my household cavalry!" King Louis madly cried; The bloody duke of Cumberland beheld with To death they rush, but rude their shock ; not unavenged they died. anxious eye, And ordered up his last reserve, his latest On through the camp the column trod; King chance to try: On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, how fast his generals ride! Louis turns his rein; "Not yet, my liege," Saxe interposed: "the Irish troops remain ;" And mustering come his chosen troops like And Fontenoy, famed Fontenoy, had been a clouds at eventide. Six thousand English veterans in stately col- Their cannon blaze in front and flank; Lord Waterloo Were not these exiles ready then, fresh, vehement and true. "Lord Clare," he says, "you have your wish there are your Saxon foes!" Steady they step adown the slope, steady The marshal almost smiles to see, so furiously they climb the hill, he goes. Steady they load, steady they fire, moving How fierce the look these exiles wear, who're right onward still wont to be so gay! The treasured wrongs of fifty years are in Bright was their steel: 'tis bloody now, their their hearts to-dayguns are filled with gore; The treaty broken ere the ink wherewith Through shattered ranks and severed files 'twas writ could dry, and trampled flags they tore. Their plundered homes, their ruined shrines, The English strove with desperate strength, their women's parting cry, paused, rallied, staggered, fled: Their priesthood hunted down like wolves, The green hillside is matted close with dying their country overthrown; and with dead. Each looks as if revenge for all were staked Across the plain and far away passed on that on him alone. hideous wrack, On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, nor ever yet else- While cavalier and fantassin dash in upon where their track. Rushed on to fight a nobler band than these On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, like eagles in I'd like to be a soldier strong and tall, They dress their ranks upon the hill to face Like grandpapa, drawn in the picture here; the battle-wind, And be the first to hear the trumpet's call, Their bayonets the breakers' foam, like rocks And be the first to scale the castle-wall. the men behind. She hopes with all her heart her boy some day Will lead the people in his father's way. I want to be a soldier-meet the foe," That there's a soldier's service nobler far, And that a clergyman does wear a sword Forty times over let Michaelmas pass: know the worth of a lass, Once you have come to forty year. Pledge me round, I bid ye declare, All good fellows whose beards are gray; Did not the fairest of the fair Common grow and wearisome ere Ever a month was past away? The reddest lips that ever have kissed, Gillian's dead! God rest her bier! How I loved her twenty years syne! WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. TERRORS OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. CURS URSED with unnumbered groundless How pale yon shivering wretch appears! By day he mingles with the crowd, THOMAS BLACK LOCK. CESAR'S LAMENTATION OVER POMPEY'S HEAD. OH, thou conqueror, Thou glory of the world once, now the pity, Thou awe of nations, wherefore didst thou fall thus? |