When through the camp a murmur shrill was spread, "Arm! arm!" they cried: "Arm! arm !" the trumpets blew; Their merry noise prevents the joyful blast.

So hum small bees before their swarms they cast.

2. Their Captain rules their courage, guides their' heat;
Their forwardness he stays with gentle rein;
And yet more easy, haply, were the feat,

To stop the current near Charybdis' main,
Or calm the blustering winds on mountains great,
Than fierce desires of warlike hearts restrain:
He rules them yet, and ranks them in their haste,
For well he knows disordered speed makes waste.

8. Feathered their thoughts, their feet in wings were dight;
Swiftly they marched, yet were not tired thereby,
For willing minds make heaviest burdens light:
But when the gliding sun was mounted high,
Jerusalem, behold! appeared in sight:

Jerusalem they view, they see, they spy.
Jerusalem with merry noise they greet,

With joyful shouts and acclamations sweet.

4. As when a troop of jolly sailors row

Some new-found land and country to descry;
Through dangerous seas, and under stars unknown,
Thrall to the faithless waves and trothless sky;
If once the wishéd shore begin to show,

They all salute it with a joyful cry,
And each to other show the land in haste,
Forgetting quite their pains and perils past.

5. To that delight which their first sight did breed, That pleaséd so the secret of their thought,

A deep repentance did forthwith succeed,

That reverend feet and trembling with it brought,

Scantily they durst their feeble eyes dispread

Upon that town where Christ was sold and bought, Where for our sins He, faultless, suffered pain,

There where He died, and where He lived again.

6. Soft words, low speech, deep sobs, sweet sighs, salt tears, Rose from their breasts with joy and pleasure mixed; For thus fears he, the Lord aright that fears;

Fear on devotion, joy on faith is fixt;

Such noise their passion makes, as when one hears
The hoarse sea-waves roar, hollow rocks betwixt ;
Or, as the winds in hoults and shady greaves

A murmur makes among the boughs and leaves.

1. Their naked feet trod on the dusty way,

Following th' ensample of their zealous guide; Their scarfs, their crests, their plumes, and feathers gay, They quickly doft, and willing laid aside;

Their molten hearts their wonted pride allay

Along their watery cheeks warm tears down slide,

And then such secret speech as this they used,
While to himself each one himself accused:

8. "Flower of goodness, Root of lasting bliss,

Thou Well of life, whose streams were purple blood,
That flowed here, to cleanse the foul amiss
Of sinful man, behold this brinish flood,

That from my melting heart distilléd is;
Receive in gree these tears, O Lord, so good,
For never wretch with sin so over-gone,
Had fitter time, or greater cause to moan."

TASSO

"Dost thou see them, boy?-through the dusky pines,
Dost thou see where the foeman's armor shines?
Hast thou caught the gleam on the conqueror's crest?
My babe, that I cradled on my breast!

Wouldst thou spring from thy mother's arms with joy
That sight hath cost thee a father, boy !"

3.

For in the rocky strait beneath

Lay Suliote, sire and son;

They had heapéd high the piles of death,

Before the pass was won.

4. "They have crossed the torrent, and on they come! Woe for the mountain hearth and home!

5.

There, where the hunter laid by his spear,
There, where the lyre hath been sweet to hear,
There, where I sang thee, fair babe, to sleep,
Naught but the blood-stain our trace shall keep !"

And now the horn's loud blast was heard,

And now the cymbal's clang,

Till even the upper air was stirred,

As cliff and hollow rang.

6. "Hark! they bring music, my joyous child!
What saith the trumpet to Suli's wild?
Doth it light thine eye with so quick a fire,
As if at a glace of thine arméd sire?
Still! be thou still! there are brave men low,-
Thou wouldst not smile couldst thou see him now !"

8. "Hear'st thou the sound of their savage mirth?-
Boy, thou wert free when I gave thee birth,—
Free, and how cherished my warrior's son !
He, too, hath blessed thee, as I have done!
Aye, and unchain'd must his loved ones be-
Freedom, young Suliote, for thee and me !"

9.

And from the arrowy peak she sprung,
And fast the fair child bore:
A vail upon the wind was flung,

A cry, and all was o'er!

MRS. HEMANS.

27. THE END OF THE LONG PARLIAMENT.

AT this eventful moment, big with the most important conse

quences both to himself and his country, whatever were the workings of Cromwell's mind, he had the art to conceal them from the eyes of the beholders. Leaving the military in the lobby, he entered the Parliament House, and composedly seated himself on one of the outer benches. His dress was a plain suit of black cloth, with gray worsted stockings. For a while he seemed to listen with interest to the debate; but when the speaker was going to put the question, he whispered to Harrison, "This is the time; I must do it ;" and, rising, put off his hat to address the house.

2. At first his language was decorous and even laudatory. Gradually he became more warm and animated. At last he assumed all the vehemence of passion, and indulged in personal vituperation. He charged the members with self-seeking

and profaneness, with the frequent denial of justice, and numer ous acts of oppression; with idolizing the lawyers, the constant advocates of tyranny; with neglecting the men who had bled for them in the field, that they might gain the Presbyterians, who had apostatized from the cause; and with doing all this in order to perpetuate their own power, and to replenish their >wn purses. But their time was come; the Lord had dis>wned them; He had chosen more worthy instruments to perform His work.

3. Here the orator was interrupted by Sir Peter Wentworth, who declared that he had never heard language so uuparliamentary,-language, too, the more offensive, because it was addressed to them by their own servant, whom they had made what he was. At these words, Cromwell put on his hat, and, springing from his place, exclaimed, "Come, come, sir, I will put an end to your prating !" For a few seconds, apparently in the most violent agitation, he paced forward and backward, and then stamping on the floor, added, "You are no Parliament! I say you are no Parliament! Bring them in, bring them in !" Instantly the door opened, and Colonel Worsley entered, followed by more than twenty musketeers.

4. "This," cried Sir Henry Vane, "is not honest; it is against morality and common honesty."-"Sir Henry Vane," replied Cromwell; "O, Sir Henry Vane! The Lord deliver me from Sir Henry Vane! He might have prevented this. But he is a juggler, and has not common honesty himself!" From Vane he directed his discourse to Whitelock, on whom he poured a torrent of abuse; then pointing to Chaloner, "There," he cried, "sits a drunkard ;" and afterwards selecting different members in succession, he described them as dishonest and corrupt livers, a shame and scandal to the profession of the Gospel. Suddenly, however, checking himself, he turned to the guard, and ordered them to clear the house. At these words, Colonel Harrison took the Speaker by the hand, and led him from the chair; Algernon Sydney was next compelled to quit his seat; and the other members, eighty in number, on