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
On all the people at the sound of the great Claudian name.
Straightway Virginius led his child a little space aside,
To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with horn
and hide.

Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his whittle down:
Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in his gown.
And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat began
to swell,

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 through the crowded Forum was stillness as of death;
And in another moment brake forth from one and all
A cry as if the Volscians were coming o'er the wall.
Some with averted faces shrieking fled home amain;
Some ran to call a leech, and some ran to lift the slain;
Some felt her lips and little wrist, if life might there be
found;

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,
And he hath passed in safety into his woeful home,
And there ta'en horse to tell the camp what deeds are
done in Rome.

Lord Macaulay.

CUDDLE DOON.

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht

Wi' muckle fash an' din.

"Oh, try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues;
Your father's comin' in."

They never heed a word I speak.
I try to gie a froon;

But aye I hap them up, an' cry,
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!""

Wee Jamie, wi' the curly heid-
He aye sleeps next the wa'—
Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece"-
The rascal starts them a'.

I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks—
They stop awee the soun'-
Then draw the blankets up, an' cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon!"

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot, frae 'neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at ance:
He's kittlin' wi' his taes.

The mischief's in that Tam for tricks;
He'd bother half the toon.
But aye I hap them up, an' cry,
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

At length they hear their father's fit;
An', as he steeks the door,

They turn their faces to the wa',
While Tam pretends to snore.

"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks,
As he pits aff his shoon.

"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,
An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's.

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
Wi' mirth that's dear to me;

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,
The hill sinks down upon the deep.
Here Vennachar in silver flows,
There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;
Ever the hollow path twined on

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;
An hundred men might hold the post
With hardihood against an host.

So toilsome was the road to trace,
The guide, abating of his pace,

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,
As gives the poor mechanic laws?
Enough, I am by promise tied

To match me with this man of pride:
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
In peace; but when I come again,
I come with banner, brand, and bow,
As leader seeks his mortal foe.
For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
As I, until before me stand

This rebel Chieftain and his band."

"Have, then, thy wish!"

He whistled shrill,

And he was answered from the hill;
Wild as the scream of the curlieu,

From crag to crag the signal flew.

Instant, through copse and heath, arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles gray their lances start,
The bracken-bush sends forth the dart,
The rushes and the willow-wand