Down fell they dead together

In a great lake of gore,

And still stood all who saw them fall
While men might count a score.

Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning,
The dark grey charger fled:

He burst through ranks of fighting men;
He sprang o'er heaps of dead.
His bridle far out-streaming,
His flanks all blood and foam,
He sought the southern mountains,
The mountains of his home.

The pass was steep and rugged,

The wolves they howled and whined; But he ran like a whirlwind up the pass, And he left the wolves behind.

Through many a startled hamlet
Thundered his flying feet;

He rushed through the gate of Tusculum,
He rushed up the long white street;
He rushed by tower and temple,

And paused not from his race

Till he stood before his master's door
In the stately market-place....

But, like a graven image,

Black Auster kept his place,

And ever wistfully he looked

Into his master's face.

The raven-mane that daily,

With pats and fond caresses,

The young Herminia washed and combed, And twined in even tresses,

And decked with coloured ribands
From her own gay attire,
Hung sadly o'er her father's corpse
In carnage and in mire. .

And Aulus the Dictator

Stroked Auster's raven mane,
With heed he looked unto the girths,

With heed unto the rein.

"Now bear me well, black Auster,

Into yon thick array;

And thou and I will have revenge

For thy good lord this day."

*

*

LORD MACAULAY.

[From "Lays of Ancient Rome."-By kind permission of Messrs. Longmans, Green, & Co.]

OUT OF THE OLD HOUSE, NANCY.

Out of the old house, Naney-moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through.
Only a bounden duty remains for you and I—

And that's to stand on the door-step, here, and bid the old house good-bye.

What a shell we've lived in, these nineteen or twenty years!
Wonder it hadn't smashed in, and tumbled about our ears;
Wonder it's stuck together, and answered till to-day ;
But every individual log was put up here to stay.

And you, for want of neighbours, was sometimes blue and

sad,

For wolves and bears and wild-cats was the nearest ones you

had;

But lookin' ahead to the clearin', we worked with all our

might,

Until we was fairly out of the woods, and things was goin' right.

Look up
there at our new house!-ain't it a thing to see?
Tall and big and handsome, and new as new can be;
All in apple-pie order, especially the shelves,

And never a debt to say but what we own it all ourselves.

Look at our old log-house-how little it now appears!
But it's never gone back on us for nineteen or twenty years;
An' I won't go. back on it now, or go to pokin' fun-
There's such a thing as praisin' a thing for the good that it
has done.

Probably you remember how rich we was that night,

When we was fairly settled, an' had things snug and tight: We feel as proud as you please, Nancy, over our house that's

new,

But we felt as proud under this old roof, and a good deal prouder too.

Never a handsomer house was seen beneath the sun :

Kitchen and parlour and bedroom-we had 'em all in one; And the fat old wooden clock that we bought when we come

West,

Was tickin' away in the corner there, and doin' its level best.

Trees was all around us, a-whisperin' cheering words;

Loud was the squirrel's chatter, and sweet the songs of birds; And home grew sweeter and brighter-our courage began to

mount

And things looked hearty and bappy then, and work appeared

to count.

And here one night it happened, when things was goin' bad,
We fell in a deep old quarrel—the first we ever had;
And when you give out and cried, then I, like a fool, give in,
And then we agreed to rub all out, and start the thing ag'in.

Here it was, you remember, we sat when the day was done,
And you was a-makin' clothing that wasn't for either one;
And often a soft word of love I was soft enough to say,
And the wolves was howlin' in the woods not twenty rods
away.

Then our first-born baby-a regular little joy,

Though I fretted a little because it wasn't a boy:

Wa'n't she a little flirt, though, with all her pouts and smiles? Why, settlers come to see that show a half-a-dozen miles.

Yonder sat the cradle-a homely, home-made thing,
And many a night I rocked it, providin' you would sing;
And many a little squatter brought up with us to stay-
And so that cradle, for many a year, was never put away.

How they kept a-comin', so cunnin' and fat and small! How they growed! 'twas a wonder how we found room for 'em all;

But though the house was crowded, it empty seemed that day When Jennie lay by the fireplace there, and moaned her life away.

And right in there the preacher, with Bible and hymn-book, stood,

""Twixt the dead and the living," and "hoped 'twould do us good;"

And the little whitewood coffin on the table there was set,

And now as I rub my eyes it seems as if I could see it yet.

Then that fit of sickness it brought on you, you know;
Just by a thread you hung, and you e'en a'most let go;
And here is the spot I tumbled, an' give the Lord his due,
When the doctor said the fever 'd turned, an' he could fetch
you through.

Yes, a deal has happened to make this old house dear:
Christenin's, funerals, weddin's-what haven't we had here?
Not a log in this buildin' but its memories has got,
And not a nail in this old floor but touches a tender spot.

Out of the old house, Nancy-moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through;

But I tell you a thing right here, that I ain't ashamed to say,
There's precious things in this old house we never can take

away.

Here the old house will stand, but not as it stood before: Winds will whistle through it, and rains will flood the floor; And over the hearth, once blazing, the snow-drifts oft will pile,

And the old thing will seem to be a-mournin' all the while.

Fare you well, old house! you're naught that can feel or see, But you seem like a human being—a dear old friend to me; And we never will have a better home, if my opinion stands, Until we commence a-keepin' house in the house not made with hands.

WILL CARLETON.

THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

Oh! that last day in Lucknow fort!
We knew that it was the last:

That the enemy's mines had crept surely in,
And the end was coming fast.