And all too late the advantage came, SIR W. SCOTT, CXVIII THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming with purple and gold, And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, But through them there rolled not the breath of his pride; And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, LORD BYRON. CXIX THE BLACK KNIGHT. 'Twas Pentecost, the feast of gladness, Of ancient Hofburg's walls, Drums and trumpets echo loudly, From balcony the king looks on; Fell all the cavaliers, To the barrier of the fight, Rode at last a sable Knight. "Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say! "Should I speak it here, Ye would stand aghast with fear I'm a Prince of mighty sway!" When he rode into the lists, The arch of heaven grew black with mists, And the castle 'gan to rock. At the first blow, Fell the youth from saddle-bow, Hardly rises from the shocks. Pipe and viol call the dancers, Torch-light through the high halls glances; Waves a mighty shadow in; With manner bland Doth ask the maiden's hand, Doth with her the dance begin. Danced in sable iron sark, Danced a measure weird and dark, From breast and hair Down fall from her the fair Flowerets, faded, to the ground. To the sumptuous banquet came "Twixt son and daughter all distraught, The ancient King reclined, Gazed at them in silent thought. Pale the children both did look, whole!" Gave many a courteous thank; "O that draught was very cool! " Each the father's breast embraces, Whichever way Looks the fear-struck father gray, He beholds his children die. "Woe! the blessed children both From his hollow, cavernous breast: "Roses in the spring I gather!" LONGFELLOW (from the German of Uhland). CXX THE HERMIT. Far in a wild, unknown to public view, A life so sacred, such serene repose, Swift ruffling circles curl on every side, To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, |