Nor cheek, nor lip, nor eye gave token Was in the voice of the grey-hair'd knight; In the march of a mail-clad host by night. "Brother of Cœur de Lion," said he, "These chains have not dishonour'd me!" There was crushing scorn in each simple word, Mightier than battle-axe or sword. Not long did the heart of the false king thrill And now to the knight he made reply, Speak!" cried the king in that fearful pause: "Wilt thou not champion thy monarch's cause?" The old knight struck his foot on the ground Solemn and fierce in tone, Waving his hand to the stately band Who stood by the monarch's throne, He turned and strode from the lofty hall, Nor seemed to hear the sudden cheer To the forests green and the wide blue sky With stately tread and uplifted head, "O world!" he cried; "sky, river, hill! He hath cross'd the booming ocean, To guard her fame, and to cleanse her name Advance, advance! ye knights of France, Give answer to my call, Lo, here I stand for England, And I defy ye all ! " From the east and the north came champions forth— They came in a knightly crowd; From the south and the west each generous breast Throbbed at that summons proud. But though brave was each lord, and keen each sword, No warriors could withstand The strength of the hero-spirit Which nerved the old man's hand. He is conqueror in the battle ; He hath won the wreath of bay; He hath drawn his sword for England : In the ears of the craven monarch "Though the crown be thine, and the royal line, He is in heart thy king!” So they gave this graceful honour That they ever should dare their helms to wear And the sons of that line of heroes To this day their right assume ; For, when every head is unbonneted They walk in cap and plume. Lays and Ballads of English History. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. HE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the THE fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in 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 breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail; Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast, my boys, O for a soft and gentle wind! But give to me the snoring breeze, There's tempest in yon hornèd moon, And lightning in yon cloud; The wind is piping loud, my boys, While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. Allan Cunningham. WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S IT was a noble Roman In Rome's imperial day, Who heard a coward croaker, |