The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits

The flashes fell upon them; some lay down

And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed

Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,

The pall of a past world; and then again

With curses cast them down upon the dust,

And gnashed their teeth and howled; the wild birds shrieked
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,

And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food;
And war, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom; no love was left;

All earth was but one thought — and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang

Of famine fed upon all entrails- -men

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;

The meagre by the meagre were devoured;
Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one-
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept

The birds and beasts and famished men at bay,

Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead
Lured their lank jaws! himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan

And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand

Which answered not with a caress

- he died.

The crowd was famished by degrees; but two

Of an enormous city did survive,

And they were enemies; they met beside

The dying embers of an altar-place,

Where had been heaped a mass of holy things

For an unholy usage; they raked up,

And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath

Blew for a little life, and made a flame

Which was a mockery; then they lifted up

Their

eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld

Each other's aspects-saw, and shrieked, and died -
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow

Famine had written fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless-
A lump of death, a chaos of hard clay,
The rivers, lakes, and ocean, all stood still,

And nothing stirred within their silent depths

Ships, sailorless, lay rotting on the sea,

And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropped

They slept on the abyss without a surge –

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave.

The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,

And the clouds perished; darkness had no need

Of aid from them-She was the universe.

X

HIGHLAND MARY.

YE banks and braes and streams around

The castle of Montgomery;

Green be your woods and fair

Your waters never drumlie.

your flowers,

BYRON.

There summer first unfolds his robes.
And there they longest tarry;
For there I took my last farewell
Of my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk
How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom.
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

With mony a vow and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was full tender;
And pledging oft to meet again

We tore ourselves asunder.

But, oh! fell death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower so early!
Now green's the sod and cold's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary.

Oh! pale, pale now those rosy lips
I aft hae kiss'd so fondly;

And closed for aye the sparkling glance,
That dwelt on me so kindly.
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that loved me dearly;
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary!

BURNS.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
Across this stormy water:

"And I'll forgive your Highland chief,

My daughter!-oh my daughter!"

'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore,

Return or aid preventing :—

The waters wild went o'er his child

And he was left lamenting.

CAMPBELL.

LOCHINVAR.

Oн, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide border his steed was the best;
And, save his good broad-sword, he weapon had none;
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone!

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar !

He stay❜d not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none-

But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late;
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar!

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all!
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword –
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word –
66 Oh come ye in peace here, or come ye in war?-
Or to dance at our bridal? young Lord Lochinvar ! "

"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied.
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine!
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!

99

The bride kiss'd the goblet, the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh —
With a smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar—
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace!

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,
And the bride-maidens whisper'd, ""Twere better by far
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar ! "

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near : So light to the croup the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;

They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea,

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see!
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?

SCOTT.