LXIX. THE BUGLE CALL. THE HE splendor falls on castle walls, Blow, bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying; 2. Oh, hark, oh, hear: how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going; Oh, sweet and far, from cliff and scar, The horns of elf-land faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: 3. Oh, love, they die in yon rich sky; Blow, bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying; Tennyson. LXX. A WISH. INE be a cot beside the hill; MINE A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook that turns a mill, 2. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch And share my meal, a welcome guest. 3. Around my ivied porch shall spring In russet gown and apron blue. 4. The village church among the trees, Samuel Rogers. LXXI.-GEORGE III. AND HIS FAMILY. Of all figurds George and his queen, the F all the figures in that large family group which surrounds prettiest, I think, is the father's darling, the princess Amelia, pathetic for her beauty, her sweetness, her early death, and for the extreme passionate tenderness with which her father loved her. This was his favorite amongst all the children: of his sons, he loved the Duke of York best. 2. Burney tells a sad story of the poor old man at Weymouth, and how eager he was to have this darling son with him. The king's house was not big enough to hold the prince; and his father had a portable house erected close to his own, and at huge pains, so that his dear Frederick should be near him. He clung on his arm all the time of his visit: talked to no one else; had talked of no one else for some time before. 3. The Prince, so long expected, stayed but a single night. He had business in London the next day, he said. The dullness of the old king's court stupified York and the other big sons of George III. They frightened the modest little circle with their coarse spirits and loud talk. Of little comfort, indeed, were the king's sons to the king. 4. But the pretty Amelia was his darling; and the little maiden, prattling and smiling in the fond arms of that old father, is a sweet image to look on. Ere she was dead the agonized father was in such a state, that the officers round about him were obliged to set watchers over him; and from November, 1810, George III. ceased to reign. 5. All the world knows the story of his malady; all history presents no sadder figure than that of the old man, blind and deprived of reason, wandering through the rooms of his palace, addressing imaginary parliaments, reviewing fancied troops, holding ghostly courts. I have seen his picture as it was taken at this time, hanging in the apartment of his daughter. The poor old father is represented in a purple gown, his snowy beard falling over his breast, the star of his famous Order still idly shining on it. 6. He was not only sightless: he became utterly deaf. All light, all reason, all sound of human voices, all the pleasures of this world of God, were taken from him. Some slight lucid moments he had; in one of which, the queen, desiring to see him, entered the room, and found him singing a hymn, and accompanying himself at the harpsi chord. 7. When he had finished, he knelt down and prayed aloud for her, and then for his family, and then for the nation, concluding with a prayer for himself, that it might please God to avert his heavy calamity from him; but if not, to give him resigna tion to submit. He then burst into tears, and his reason again fled. 8. What preacher need moralize on this story; what words, save the simplest, are requisite to tell it? It is too terrible for tears. The thought of such a misery smites me down in submission before the Ruler of kings and men, the Monarch Supreme over empires and republics, the inscrutable Dispenser of life, death, happiness, victory. 9. "O brothers!" I said to those who heard me first in America-"O brothers! speaking the same dear mother tongue-O comrades! enemies no more, let us take a mournful hand together as we stand by this royal corpse, and call a truce to battle! Low he lies to whom the proudest used to kneel once, and who was cast lower than the poorestdead, whom millions prayed for in vain. 10. "Driven off his throne; buffeted by rude hands; with his children in revolt; the darling of his old age killed before him untimely; our Lear hangs over her breathless lips and cries: 'Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little!' "Vex not his ghost-oh! let him pass—he hates him 11. "Hush! Strife and Quarrel, over the solemn grave! Sound, trumpets, a mournful march. Fall, dark curtain, upon his pageant, his pride, his grief, his awful tragedy." Adapted from Thackeray. LXXII.-DOUGLAS AND MARMION. THE train from out the castle drew; 66 But Marmion stopped to bid adieu :Though something I might plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest, While in Tantallon's towers I stayed, Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble earl, receive my hand." 2. But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : My manors, halls, and towers, shall still To each one whom he lists, howe'er 3. Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, And shook his very frame for ire, And-"This to me!" he said "And 't were not for thy hoary beard, And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, |