"What if, 'mid the cannons' thunder,
Whistling shot and bursting bomb,
When my brothers fall around me,

Should my heart grow cold and numb?"
But the drum

Answered, "Come!

Better there in death united, than in life a recreant,come!"

Thus they answered,-hoping, fearing,
Some in faith, and doubting some,
Till a trumpet-voice proclaiming,
Said, "My chosen people, come ! "
Then the drum,

Lo! was dumb,

For the great heart of the nation, throbbing, answered, “Lord, we come!"

Bret Harte.

JAFFÁR.

JAFFÁR, the Barmecide, the good Vizier,

The poor man's hope, the man without a peer, Jaffar was dead, slain by a doom unjust; And guilty Haroun, sullen with mistrust Of what the good, and e'en the bad might say, Ordained that no man living from that day Should dare to speak his name on pain of death. All Araby and Persia held their breath.

All but the brave Mondeer. He, proud to show
How far for love a grateful soul could go,
And facing death for very scorn and grief
(For his great heart wanted a great relief),
Stood forth in Bagdad, daily in the square
Where once had stood a happy house, and there
Harangued the tremblers at the scymitar
On all they owed to the divine Jaffár.

"Bring me this man,” the caliph cried: the man Was brought, was gazed upon. The mutes began To bind his arms. "Welcome, brave cords!" cried he;

"From bonds far worse Jaffár deliver❜d me;

From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears;

Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears;
Restor❜d me, loved me, put me on a par
With his great self. How can I pay Jaffár?”

Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this
The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss,
Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate
Might smile upon another half as great.
He said, 66 Let worth grow frenzied if it will;
The caliph's judgment shall be master still.
Go, and since gifts so move thee, take this gem,
The richest in the Tartar's diadem,

And hold the giver as thou deemest fit."

“Gifts!” cried the friend. He took; and holding it High toward the heavens, as though to meet his star, Exclaim'd, "This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffár.”

Leigh Hunt.

JACK FROST.

Tand whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight:

HE Frost looked forth one still, clear night,

So through the valley, and over the height,
In silence I'll take my way.

I will not go on like that blustering train—
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain-
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain ;
But I'll be as busy as they."

Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its

crest,

He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest
In diamond beads; and over the breast

Of the quivering lake he spread
A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That hung on its margin far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head.

He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane, like a fairy, crept ; Wherever he breathed, and wherever he stept, By the light of the morn were seen

Most beautiful things; there were flowers and trees;

There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees; There were cities, with temples and towers,—and these

All pictured in silver sheen!

But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare-
"Now, just to set them a-thinking,

I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he,
"This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;
And the glass of water they've left for me
Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking."

N°

THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

stir in the air, no stir in the sea,

The ship was as still as she could be,

Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock
The waves flow'd over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The good old Abbot of Aberbrothok
Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.

When the Rock was hid by the surges' swell,
The Mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous Rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

The sun in heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day;

The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd round,
And there was joyance in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fix'd his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape float;
Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok."

The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,

And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.

Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound,
The bubbles rose and burst around;

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away,
He scour'd the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plunder'd store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
They cannot see the sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.
Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon."

"Can'st hear," said one, “ the breakers roar?
For methinks we should be near the shore;
Now where we are I cannot tell,

But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell."

They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock:
Cried they, "It is the Inchcape Rock!"

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
He curst himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.

But even in his dying fear

One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,
A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell,
The fiends below were ringing his knell.

Southey.