And the strong smith Muræna, grasping a half-forged brand, And Volero, the flesher, his cleaver in his hand. All came in wrath and wonder; for all knew that fair child; And, as she passed them twice a day, all kissed their hands and smiled; And the strong smith Muræna gave Marcus such a blow, The caitiff reeled three paces back, and let the maiden go. Yet glared he fiercely round him, and growled in harsh, fell tone, "She's mine, and I will have her. I seek but for my own: She is my slave, born in my house, and stolen away and sold, The year old. of the sore sickness, ere she was twelve hours I wait on Appius Claudius; I waited on his sire: Let him who works the client wrong, beware the patron's ire!" So spake the varlet Marcus; and dread and silence came Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his whittle down: And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, "Farewell, sweet child! Farewell! The house that was the happiest within the Roman walls, The house that envied not the wealth of Capua's marble halls, Now, for the brightness of thy smile, must have eternal gloom, And for the music of thy voice, the silence of the tomb. "The time is come. See how he points his eager hand this way! See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's upon the prey! With all his wit, he little deems, that, spurned, betrayed, bereft, Thy father hath in his despair one fearful refuge left. He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion of the slave; Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss; And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this." With that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died. Then for a little moment all people held their breath; And some tore up their garments fast, and strove to stanch the wound. In vain they ran, and felt, and stanched; for never truer blow That good right arm had dealt in fight against a Volscian foe. When Appius Claudius saw that deed he shuddered and sank down, And hid his face some little space with the corner of his gown, Till, with white lips and bloodshot eyes, Virginius tottered nigh, And stood before the judgment-seat, and held the knife on high. "Oh, dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers of the slain, By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us twain; And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine, Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudian line!" So spake the slayer of his child, and turned, and went his way; But first he cast one haggard glance to where the body lay, And writhed and groaned a fearful groan; and then with steadfast feet, Strode right across the market-place unto the Sacred Street. Then up sprang Appius Claudius: "Stop him; alive or dead! Ten thousand pounds of copper to the man who brings his head!" He looked upon his clients, but none would work his will. He looked upon his lictors, but they trembled and stood still. And as Virginius through the press his way in silence cleft, Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and left, Lord Macaulay. CUDDLE DOON. The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht Wi' muckle fash an' din. "Oh, try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues; They never heed a word I speak. But aye I hap them up, an' cry, Wee Jamie, wi' the curly heid- I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks— But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab The mischief's in that Tam for tricks; At length they hear their father's fit; They turn their faces to the wa', "Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks, "The bairnies, John, are in their beds, An' lang since cuddled doon." An' just afore we bed oorsels, We look at oor wee lambs. Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck, I lift wee Jamie up the bed, An' as I straik each croon, I whisper, till my heart fills up, "Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!" The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht But soon the big warl's cark an' care Will quaten doon their glee. Yet, come what will to ilka ane, May He who sits aboon Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld, "Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!" Alexander Anderson. FITZ-JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. At length they came where, stern and steep, Beneath steep bank and threatening stone; So toilsome was the road to trace, Led slowly through the pass's jaws, And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause He sought these wilds? traversed by few, Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. "A warrior thou, and ask me why! Moves our free course by such fixed cause, To match me with this man of pride: This rebel Chieftain and his band." "Have, then, thy wish!" He whistled shrill, And he was answered from the hill; From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose |