"And with that I could not help but laugh, “And all on the top of the Caldon-Low And nothing I saw but the mossy stones "But as I came down from the hill-top, I heard, afar below, How busy the jolly miller was, And how merry the wheel did go. "And I peeped into the widow's field, "And down by the weaver's croft I stole, But I saw the weaver at his gate, "Now, this is all I heard, mother, So, prithee, make my bed, mother, REV. HENRY HART MILMAN. 1791-. Mr. Milman is the author of a History of the Jews, and of several dramatic poems, among which are The Fall of Jerusalem, The Martyr of Antioch, and Belshazzar. Samor, the Lord of the Bright City, is an epic, in twelve books. This author has held the office of Professor of Poetry, at Oxford. SUMMONS OF THE DESTROYING ANGEL TO THE CITY OF BABYLON. THE hour is come! the hour is come! With voice Heard in thy inmost soul, I summon thee, And groves that gleam with marble obelisks, By Him that poured thee from thine ancient fountain, Of Paradise. Thou hear'st me; thou dost check His headlong squadrons. Where the unobserved Winding their darksome way profound, where man Not guided by the treacherous, injured sons Ye come, and spread your banners, and display Are open not for banqueters in blood, I see on either side o'erflow The living deluge of armed men, and cry, I pause, and float, a little while, to see Mine human instruments fulfil my task Of final ruin. Then I mount, I fly, And sing my proud song as I ride the clouds, That stars may hear, and all the hosts of worlds, Take up Jehovah's everlasting triumph! Felicia Dorothea Browne was born in Liverpool, but passed her childhood amid the wild mountainous scenery of Wales, where she imbibed that love of nature which is seen in all her works. Before she was thirteen years of age, a volume of her poems was published. At the age of nineteen, she was married to Captain Hemans; but after living together unhappily for six years, he went to Italy for his health, and they never met again. Mrs. Hemans continued to reside with her mother and sister, in Wales, devoting her time to literature, and the education of her five sons, to whom she was fondly attached. On the death of her mother, she lived some time near Liverpool, but finally went to reside with a brother at Dublin, where her life was closed. Within the last few years of her life, she visited Walter Scott and Wordsworth at their own homes. Her works are too well known to need further remark here. FROM THE SIEGE OF VALENCIA. [Scene between Gonzalez, Elmina and Ximena.] Elmina. Gonzalez, who must die ? Gonzalez. They on whose lives a fearful price is set, But to be paid by treason! Is 't enough? Or must I yet seek words? Power in a glance to speak it? They must die! They must their names be told? Unless I yield the city! Ximena. O! look up! ―our sons must die, My mother, sink not thus! - Until the grave No, no, not theirs! Whose was the blessed voice that spoke of hope?- Gon. Hope but in Him Who bade the patriarch lay his fair young son Elm. Thou canst not tell me this! Thou father of my sons, within whose hands Gon. If there have been Men in whose bosoms Nature's voice hath made Its accents as the solitary sound Of an o'erpowering torrent, silencing The austere and yet Divine remonstrances Whispered by faith and honor, lift thy hands, And to that Heaven which arms the brave with strength Pray, that the father of thy sons may ne'er Be thus found wanting! Elm. Then their doom is sealed! Thou wilt not save thy children! Gon. Hast thou cause, Wife of my youth! to deem it lies within The bounds of possible things, that I should link Elm. O, cold and hard of heart! Thou shouldst be born for empire, since thy soul Gon. That they may live to hide, With covering hands, the indignant flush of shame The last light vessel's wake?—Then never more By all the appeals of high remembrances, And silent claims o' the sepulchres wherein |