THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE OF
WATERLOO.

J. THERE was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when

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Music arose with its voluptuous 1 swell,

Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And 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 rattling o'er the stony street;

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.
But hark!—that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat ;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!
Arm! arm! it is-it is the cannon's opening roar!

3. Within a window'd niche of that high hall
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear
That sound, the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear;
And when they smiled because he deem'd it near,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well
Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier,
And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell:
He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell,
Voluptuous, giving pleasure,

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4. 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
Blush'd 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!

5. And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate1 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 valour, 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 strife,
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 cover'd thick with other clay,

Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent,

Rider and horse,-friend, foe, in one red burial

blent!

'Inanimate, without life.

7. And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward 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 soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering, with white lips-The foe! They
come! they come!'

8. And wild and high the Camerons' gathering rose,

The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills

Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:
How in the noon of night that pibroch1 thrills
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which
fills

Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instils
The stirring memory of a thousand years,

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's

ears!

BYRON.

'Pibroch, the wild martial music of the bagpipe.

I. THE customs of the Arabs in almost every detail have remained unchanged. Thus in dress, in their nomadic habits, in their food, and in the anointing with oil, they retain the habits and formalities of the distant past, and the present is but the exact picture of those periods which are distinctly recorded in the Old Testament. The manner of anointing by the ancients is exhibited by the Arabs at the present day, who make use of so large a quantity of grease at one application, that, when melted, it runs down over Nomadic, wandering with flocks and herds.

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their persons and clothes. How forcibly this reminds us of the passage in Psalm cxxxiii. 2: 'It is like the precious ointment upon the beard, even Aaron's beard, that went down to the skirts of his garments.'

2. In all hot climates oil or other fat is necessary to the skin as a protection from the sun, when the body is either naked or very thinly clad. I have frequently seen both Arabs and the negro tribes of Africa suffer great discomfort when for some days the supply of grease has been exhausted. The skin has become coarse, rough, almost scaly, and peculiarly unsightly, until the much-loved fat has been obtained, and the general appearance of smoothness has been at once. restored by an active smearing. The expression in Psalm civ. 15, 'And oil to make his face shine,' describes the effect that was then considered beautifying, as it is at the present time.

3. The Arabs generally adhere strictly to their ancient customs, independently of the comparatively recent laws established by Mahomet. They attach great importance to the laws of Moses, and to the customs of their forefathers; neither can they understand the reason for a change of habit in any respect where necessity has not suggested the reform. The Arabs are creatures of necessity; their nomadic life is compulsory, as the existence of their flocks and herds depends upon the pasturage. Thus with the change of seasons they must change their localities,1 according to the presence of fodder for their cattle.

4. Driven to and fro by the accidents of climate, the Arab has been compelled to become a wanderer: and precisely as the wild beasts of the country are

'Localities, places of ahode.