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And furious every charger neighed,

To join the dreadful revelry.

4 Then shook the hills with thunder riven,

Then rushed the steeds to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of Heaven,

Far flashed the red artillery.

5 And redder yet those fires shall glow,

On Linden's bills of blood-stained snow;
And darker yet shall be the flow

Of Iser rolling rapidly.

6 'Tis morn--but scarce yon lurid sun

Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun,
White furious Frank and fiery Hun

Shout, in their sulph'rous canopy.
7 The combat deepens. '(00) On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!

And charge with all thy chivalry!

8(–) Ah! few shall part where many meet!

The snow shall be their winding sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

Campbell. . 3. Hamlet's Soliloquy. This is one of the most difficult things to read in the English language. No one should attempt it without entering into the sentiment, by recurring to the story of Hamlet. The notation which I have given, however imperfect, may at least furnish the reader with some guide in the management of his voice. Want of discrimination, has been the common fault in reading this soliloquy.

To bé, or not to be ? .. that is the question.-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Whet give us calamity he whips and man's con

sold bear then the plane la

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 5 And, by opposing, end them ?-To díe-to sleepNo more :-and, by a sleep, to say we end The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heír to ?—'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ;-to sleep ;10 To sléep! perchance, to dream :-Ay, there's the rùb;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect,

That makes calamity of so long life; 15 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,*

The oppressor's wròng, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of Office, and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes; 20 When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bòdkin? who would fardels bear,

To groan and sweat under a weary life? (3) But that the dread of something after death,

That undiscovēr'd country, from whose bourne 25 No traveller returns, puzzles the will ;

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution
30 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;

And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

4. Battle of Waterloo. i There was a sound of revelry by night,

And Belgium's capital had gathered then

* The indignant feeling awakened in Hamlet by this enumeration of particulars, requires the voice gradually to rise on each, till it comes to the mark of transition.

Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men :
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
All went merry as a marriage-bell;
(.) But hush! hark ! .- a deep sound strikes like a

rising knell !
2 Did ye not hear it?-No; 'twas but the wind,

Or the car ratiling o'er the stony street : o On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; No sleep till inorn, .when youth and pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet(.) But, hark !-that heavy sound breaks in once inore, As if the clouds its echo would repeat. And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! (°C) 'Arm! drm ! it is--it is--the cannon's opening

roar!
3 () Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,

And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness :
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated--who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ?

4 And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed,

The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring foward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war,
And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldiers ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips--" the foe! They

come! They come !" 5 (-) And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,

Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave,--alas !
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of living valor, rolling on the foe,
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and

low.
6 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,

Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal sound of strise,
The morn, the marshalling in arms,—the day,
Battle's magnificently-stern array !
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent,
The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,
Rider and horse -friend, foe--in one red burial
blent!

Byron. 5. Negro's Complaint 1(-) FORCED from home and all its pleasures,

Afric's coast I left forlorn ;
To increase a stranger's treasures,

O’er the raging billows borne.
Men from England bought and sold me,

Paid my price in paltry gold ;
But though slave they have enrolld me,

Minds are never to be sold
2 Still in thought as free as ever,

What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to sever,

Me to torture, me to task ?

Fleecy locks and black complexion

Cannot forfeit Nature's claim; Skins may differ, but affection

Dwells in white and black the same. 3 Why did all-creating Nature

Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water,

Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted,

Lolling at your jovial boards ! Think how many backs have smarted

For the sweets your cane affords. 4 (0) Is there, as ye sometimes tell us,

Is there one who reigns on high? Has he bid you buy and sell us,

Speaking from his throne, the sky ? Ask him, if your knotted scourges,

Matches, blood-extorting screws, Are the means that duty urges

Agents of his will to use ? 5 6.) Hark! he answers,—wild tornadoes,

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,

Are the voice with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations

Afric's sons should undergo Fixed their tyrants' habitations

Where his WHIRLWINDS answer-NO. 6 By our blood in Afric wasted,

Ere our necks received the chain ; By the miseries that we tasted,

Crossing in your barks the main ;
By our sufferings since ye brought us

To the man-degrading mart;
All, sustained by patience, taught us

Only by a broken heart.

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