In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground,
And the desert revealed where his lady was found:
From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne :
Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn.

Where shall the traitor rest,

He the deceiver,

Who could win maiden's breast,

Ruin and leave her!

In the lost battle,

Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle,
With groans of the dying,
There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the raven flap,
O'er the false-hearted;

His warm blood the wolf shall lap

Ere life be parted.

Shame and dishonor sit

By his grave ever:

Blessings shall hallow it,-
Never, oh never!

8. THE ORPHAN'S DREAM.-Anonymous.

Bereft of his kindred, Mohanoe had strayed

To a land among strangers, far, far from his isle; O'erwhelming misfortune in ruins had laid

Each heart-cheering prospect that once could beguile.

One son, an affectionate darling, remained,

To soothe his afflictions, his perils to share;
But scarce had Mohanoe the foreign shore gained,
When he sunk to the grave, by the stroke of despair.

All cheerless and lone was the orphan-boy left,
No friends to protect him, or lighten his wo;
Of every dear joy was his bosom bereft,
And agonized memory hung on his brow.

"Twas night-and the orphan-boy sunk to repose;
On the tomb of his father the weary one slept:
Yet bright were the visions that round him arose,
And he smiled o'er the pillow where late he had wept.

He thought of those days, when, a stranger to care, Through his dear native bowers he had carelessly roved; The music of home sweetly struck on his ear

The voices of those he so dearly had loved.

He smiled, as now near to the cottage he drew;
(For a soul-thrilling ecstasy raptured his mind)
His bosom-loved friends to encircle him flew,
And their arms, with affection, around him entwined.

A sweet song of welcome they cheerfully sung,
And joyful, he fancied he joined in the strain;

His sisters around him endearingly clung,

And kissed him with transport again and again.

"I am blest!" cried the dreamer ;—" yea blest is the hour! These lovely caresses once more do I meet ;—

Kind heaven! I thank thy all-favoring power-
Thou hast made every sense of enjoyment replete."

But hark! how the thunder now bursts o'er the sky!
It breaks on the vision so dear to his view;

While the lightning's dread glare meets his terrified eye,
And calls to his mind every horror anew.

'Oh God!" he exclaimed," is all this but a dream? Is memory awakened to terror and pain?

So fair was the vision, so bright did it seem,

I thought in my soul thou hadst blessed me a gain."

Though roused from his slumber,—again he reclines;
He sinks on the tomb where so late he reposed;
No longer in sorrow his young heart repines,

For death's icy fingers his eyelids have closed.

He rests 'neath the shade of the cypress and yew:
No sculpture attracts the lone passenger's eye;—
Yet spring a fair tribute of flowers shall renew,

Where his bones unlamented-but peacefully lie.

9. HENRY FIRST, AFTER THE DEATH OF HIS SON.-Hemans.

The bark that held the prince went down,

The sweeping waves rolled on ;—
And what was England's glorious crown
To him that wept a son?

He lived-for life may long be borne,

Ere sorrow breaks its chain;

Still comes not death to those who mourn ;

He never smiled again!

There stood proud forms before his throne,
The stately and the brave;

But which could fill the place of one,
That one beneath the wave?
Before him passed the young and fair,

In pleasure's reckless train;

But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair—
He never smiled again!

He sat where festal bowls went round;

He heard the minstrel sing;

He saw the tourney's victor crowned

Amid the mighty ring:—

10.

A murmur of the restless deep
Mingled with every strain,

A voice of winds that would not sleep :—
He never smiled again!

Hearts in that time, closed o'er the trace
Of vows once fondly poured;

And strangers took the kinsman's place
At many a joyous board;

Graves, which true love had bathed with tears,
Were left to heaven's bright rain;

Fresh hopes were born for other years :

He never smiled again!

HENRY FIFTH AND THE HERMIT OF DREUX.-Southey.

To Henry's tent a hermit passed;
Their heads the soldiers bent
In silent reverence, or they begged
A blessing as they went:
The king was seated all alone,
The map before him lay;

Fresh conquests he was planning there

To grace the future day.

King Henry lifted up his eyes,

The intruder to behold;

With reverence he the hermit saw,
For the holy man was old.

-"Repent thee, Henry, of the wrongs
Which thou hast done this land;-
Oh king! repent in time,-for know
The judgment is at hand.

"I used to see along the stream
The white sail gliding down,
That wafted food, in better times,
To yonder peaceful town.
Henry, I never now behold

The white sail sailing down;

Famine, disease, and death, and thou
Destroy that wretched town.

“I used to hear the traveler's voice,
As here he passed along;

Or maiden's, as she loitered home,
Singing her evening song.

No traveler's voice may now be heard,—
In fear he hastens by;
But I have heard the village maid
In vain for succor cry.

'I used to see the youths row down,
And watch the dripping oar,
As pleasantly their viol's tones
Came softened to the shore.
King Henry, many a blackened corpse
I now see floating down!—
Thou bloody man! repent in time,
And leave this leaguered town."

"I shall go on," king Henry cried,
"And conquer this good land;
Seest thou not, hermit, that the Lord
Hath given it to my hand?"
The hermit heard king Henry speak,
And angrily looked down ;-
His face was gentle, and, for that,
More solemn was his frown.

"Thou conqueror king, repent in time,
Or dread the coming wo;

For, Henry, thou hast heard the threat,
And soon shall feel the blow!"
King Henry forced a careless smile,
As the hermit went his way;
But Henry soon remembered him
Upon his dying day.

11.

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER.-Anonymous.

The sun had just retired; the dews of eve
Their glow-worm lustre scattered o'er the vale;

The lonely nightingale began to grieve,

Telling, with many a pause, her tenderest tale