Soul of the just! companion of the dead!
Where is thy home, and whither art thou fled?
Back to its heavenly source thy being goes,

Swift as the comet wheels to whence he rose :
Doomed on his airy path a while to burn,
And doomed, like thee, to travel, and return. —
Hark! from the world's exploding centre driven,
With sounds that shook the firmament of heaven,
Careers the fiery giant, fast and far,

On bickering wheels, and adamantine car;
From planet whirled to planet more remote,
He visits realms beyond the reach of thought;
But, wheeling homeward, when his course is run,
Curbs the red yoke and mingles with the sun
So hath the traveller of earth unfurled
Her trembling wings, emerging from the world
And, o'er the path by mortal never trod,
Sprung to her source, the bosom of her God!

LESSON XXX.

Lines Written during a Thunder-storm.

DMITRIEV.*

Ir thunders! Sons of dust, in reverence bow!
Ancient of days! Thou speakest from above;
Thy right hand wields the bolt of terror now;
That hand which scatters peace and joy and love.
Almighty! trembling like a timid child,

I hear thy awful voice - alarmed afraid
I see the flashes of thy lightning wild,
And in the very grave would hide my head.
Lord! what is man? Up to the sun he flies
Or feebly wanders through earth's vale of dust:

* Bowring's "Specimens of Russian Poets."

There is he lost 'midst heaven's high mysteries,
And here in error and in darkness lost:
Beneath the storm-clouds on life's raging sea,
Like a poor sailor- by the tempest tost
In a frail bark the sport of destiny,

He sleeps and dashes on the rocky coast.

Thou breathest; - and the obedient storm is still.
Thou speakest; silent the submissive wave:

Man's shattered ship the rushing waters fill,
And the hushed billows roll across his grave.
Sourceless and endless God! compared with Thee
Life is a shadowy, momentary dream:

And time, when viewed through Thy eternity,
Less than the mote of morning's golden beam.

LESSON XXXI.

Interview between Waverley and Fergus Mac-Ivor, at Carlisle, previous to the Execution of the latter.-W. SCOTT.

AFTER a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley on the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle castle. But he paced it long in every direction be*fore the hour when, according to the rules of the garrison, the gates were opened, and the drawbridge lowered. He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted. The place of Fergus' confinement was a gloomy and vaulted apartment in the central part of the castle: a huge old tower, supposed to be of great antiquity, and surrounded by out-works seemingly of Henry VIII.'s time, or somewhat later. The grating of the huge old-fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was an swered by the clash of chains, as the unfortunate chieftain, strongly and heavily fettered, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison, to fling himself into his friend's arms.

"My dear Edward," he said, in a firm and even cheerful voice, "this is truly kind. I heard of your approaching happiness with the highest pleasure; and how does Rose? and how is our old whimsical friend the baron? Well, I am sure, from your looks—and how will you settle precē ́dence between the three ermines passant, and the bear and bootjack?"-"How, O how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such a moment?".

66

Why, we have entered

Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure

--

on the sixteenth

of November last, for example, when we marched in, side by side, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers. But I am no boy, to sit down and weep, because the luck has gone against me. I knew the stake which I risked; we played the game boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid manfully.

"You are rich," he continued, "Waverley, and you are generous; when you hear of these poor Mac-Ivors being distressed, about their miserable possessions, by some harsh overseer or agent of government, remember you have worn their tartan, and are an adopted son of their race. The baron, who knows our manners, and lives near our country, will apprise you of the time and means to be their protector. Will you promise this to the last Vich Ian Vohr?" — Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which afterwards he so amply redeemed, that his memory still lives in these glens by the name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor. "Would to God," continued the chieftain, "I could bequeath to you my rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave race or at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan to accept of his life upon their terms; and be to you, what he has been to me, the kindest—the bravest - the most devoted

The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fell fast for that of his foster-brother. "But," said he, drying them "that cannot be. You cannot be to them Vich Ian Vohr and these three magic words," said he, half smiling, "are the

only open sesame to their feelings and sympathies; and poor Evan must attend his foster-brother in death, as he has done through his whole life.”. -"And I am sure," said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor, on which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had lain so still, that, in the obscurity of the apartment, Edward was not aware of his presence, I am sure Evan never desired nor desires a better end than just to die with his chieftain."

་

A tap at the door now announced the arrival of the priest; and Edward retired while he administered to both prisoners the last rites of religion, in the mode which the church of Rome prescribes. In about an hour he was readmitted. Soon after, a file of soldiers entered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters from the legs of the prisoners. "You see

the compliment they pay to our Highland strength and courage; we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our legs are cramped into palsy; and when they free. us, they send six soldiers with loaded muskets to prevent our taking the castle by storm."

Shortly after, the drums of the garrison beat to arms. "This is the last turn-out," said Fergus, "that I shall hear and obey. And now, my dear, dear Edward, ere we part, let us speak of Flora, a subject which awakes the tenderest feeling that yet thrills within me."- "We part not here?" said Waverley. 66 yes, we do; you must come no further. Not that I fear what is to follow for myself," he said, proudly; "nature has her tortures as well as art, and how happy should we think the who escapes from the throes of a mortal and painful disorder, in the space of a short half-hour! And this matter, spin it out as they will, cannot last longer. But what a dying man can suffer firmly, may kill a living friend to look upon.

man,

"This same law of high treason," he continued, with astonishing firmness and composure, "is one of the blessings, Edward, with which your free country has accommodated poor old Scotland; her own jurisprudence, as I have heard, was

much milder. But I suppose, one day or other, when there are no longer any wild Highlanders to benefit by its tender mercies, they will blot it from their records, as levelling them with a nation of cannibals. The mummery, too, of exposing the senseless head! they have not the wit to grace mine with a paper coronet; there would be some sa'tire in that, Edward. I hope they will set it on the Scotch gate though, that I may look, even after death, to the blue hills of my own country, that I love so dearly!"

A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses' feet, was now heard in the court-yard of the castle. An officer appeared, and intimated that the high sheriff and his attendants waited before the gate of the castle, to claim the bodies of Fergus Mac-Ivor and Evan Maccombich: "I come," said Fergus. Accordingly, supporting Edward by the arm, and followed by Evan Dhu and the priest, he moved down the stairs of the tower, the soldiers bringing up the rear. The court was occupied by a squadron of dragoons and a battalion of infantry, drawn up in a hollow square.

Within their ranks was the sledge or hurdle, on which the prisoners were to be drawn to the place of execution, about a mile distant from Carlisle. It was painted black, and drawn by a white horse. At one end of the vehicle sat the executioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his trade, with the broad axe in his hand; at the other end, next the horse, was an empty seat for two persons. Through the deep and dark Gothic archway, that opened on the drawbridge, were seen on horseback the high sheriff and his attendants, whom the etiquette betwixt the civil and military power did not permit to come further.

"This is well GOT UP for a closing scene," said Fergus, smiling disdainfully as he gazed around upon the apparatus of terror. Evan Dhu exclaimed with some eagerness after looking

*Pron. et-e-ket'.