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I LOOKED upon his brow-no sign
He stood as proud by that death-shrine
He had a power; in his eye
There was a quenchless energy,
A spirit that could dare
The deadliest form that death could take, And dare it for the daring's sake.
He stood, the fetters on his hand,-
With freer pride than it waved now.
The rack, the chain, the axe, the wheel,
I saw him once before; he rode
And tens of thousands thronged the road,
His helm, his breast-plate, were of gold, And graved with many a dent that told Of many a soldier's deed;
The sun shone on his sparkling mail, And danced his snow-plume on the gale.
But now he stood, chained and alone,
The plume, the helm, the charger gone ;
He bent beneath the headsman's stroke
A wild shout from the numbers broke
Rome's wail above her only son,
AGRANT AND HIS
J. T. TROWBRIDGE.
WE are two travellers, Roger and I.
Roger's my dog. Come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentleman,-mind your eye! Over the table, look out for the lamp! The rogue is growing a little old;
Five years we've tramped through wind and weather,
And slept out-doors when nights were cold,
And ate and drank-and starved-together.
We've learned what comfort is, I tell you!
A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow !
(This out-door business is bad for strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings!
No, thank ye, sir,—I never drink ;
Well, something hot, then, we won't quarrel.
The truth is, sir, now I reflect,
I've been so sadly given to grog,
There isn't another creature living
Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving,
To such a miserable thankless master! No, sir!-see him wag his tail and grin ! By George! it makes my old eyes water! That is, there's something in this gin
That chokes a fellow. But no matter!
We'll have some music, if you're willing,
And Roger (hem! what a plague a cough is, sir!)
Shall march a little.-Start, you villain!
Stand straight! 'Bout face! Salute your officer !
Put up that paw ! Dress! Take your rifle! (Some dogs have arms, you see!) Now hold your Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle,
To aid a poor old patriotic soldier!
March! Halt! Now show how the rebel shakes,
To honour a jolly new acquaintance.
Why not reform? That's easily said;
But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread,
And scarce remembering what meat meant,
And there are times when, mad with thinking,
Is there a way to forget to think?
At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, A dear girl's love,—but I took to drink
The same old story; you know how it ends.
If you had seen her, so fair and
Whose head was happy on this breast!
If could have heard the songs I sung
When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed That ever I, sir, should be straying
From door to door, with fiddle and dog,
Ragged and penniless, and playing
To you to-night for a glass of grog!
She's married since,-a parson's wife:
Than a blasted home and a broken heart.
You've set me talking, sir; I'm sorry,
I had a mother so proud of me!
"Twas well she died before- -Do you know
Another glass, and strong, to deaden
He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could,
A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food,
I'm better now; that glass was warming.-
For supper and bed, or starve in the street.— Not a very gay life to lead, you think?
But soon we shall go where lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink; The sooner the better for Roger and me!