Vain was the man, and false as vain, Who said "Were he ordain'd to run He would do all that he had done." The lights and shades, the joy and pain, All, but that freedom of the mind Which hath been more than wealth to me,— Those friendships in my boyhood twin'd, T. MOOKE. 56. THE PARROT. THE deep affections of the breast, By human hearts. A Parrot, from the Spanish main, Full young, and early caged, came o'er, With bright wings, to the bleak domain Of Mulla's shore. To spicy groves, where he had won Instead, he watch'd the smoke of turf, But, petted, in our climate cold He lived and chatted many a day; At last, when blind and seeming dumb, To Mulla's shore; He hail'd the bird in Spanish speech; Flapp'd round his cage with joyous screech, CAMPBELL UPON 57. THE SOLDIER'S TEAR. [PON the hill he turn'd to take a last fond look Of the valley, and the village church, and the cottage by the brook : He listen'd to the sounds so familiar to his ear, Beside that cottage porch a girl was on her knees; not hear, But he paused to bless her as she knelt, and wiped away a tear! He turn'd and left the spot: oh! do not deem him weak, For dauntless was the soldier's heart, though tears were on his cheek! Go, watch the foremost ranks in danger's dark career: Be sure the hand most daring there, has wiped away a tear! T. H. BAILEY 58. GELERT. THE spearman heard the bugle sound, And many a brach, and many a hound, 6 But still he blew a louder blast, "Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam ? In sooth, he was a peerless hound, But now no Gelert could be found, That day Llewellyn little loved Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied; But when he gain'd the castle-door, The hound was smear'd with gouts of gore; Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise, His favourite check'd his joyful guise, Onward in haste Llewellyn pass'd — And still, where'er his eyes were cast, O'erturn'd his infant's bed, he found He call'd his child no voice replied; He search'd with terror wild; Blood! Blood! he found on every side, "Monster! by thee my child's devour'd!" The frantic father cried, And to the hilt his vengeful sword Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread- Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead,— |