How to thine aged sire? Armed proof I stand, To fate come what will come-the wide earth bears Doug. The heart of Douglas beats not with thy blood; But never will I trust in mercy more, In justice, truth, or Heaven, if it forsake thee. Per. Douglas, thy friendship is my choicest treasure ;Has been a radiant star on my dark way; And never did doubt thy zeal to serve me. Lend, now, a patient ear.-While with my doom Per. Let Heaven be witness there! The thought of bringing down thy father's hairs With sorrow to the grave, would weigh like guilt, Palsy my soul, and cripple all my powers. Doug. So!-have I wandered o'er the hills for this? Per. I would not wound thee, Douglas, well thou know'st; But thus to hazard on a desperate cast Thy golden fortunes Doug. Cursed be the blood within me, Plagues and the grave o'ertake me, if I leave thee; Per. For thy father's sake Doug. Peace! I'd not go if staying here would strew His hoar hairs in the tomb-not stir, by Heaven! Must I toss counters? sum the odds of life, When honor points the way?-When was the blood Of Douglas precious in a noble cause? Per. Nay, hear me, hear me, Douglas— Doug. Talk to me Of dangers? Death and shame! Is not my race As high, as ancient, and as proud as thine? Per. I've done. Doug. By Heaven, it grieves me, Harry Percy, Preaching such craven arguments to me. Now tell me how thou stand'st; thy cause how prospered. What has been done? What projects are afoot? Acquaint me quickly. Per. Gently; lest some busy ear Be near us. Little have I yet to tell thee. Doug. A keeper of his chase thy garb bespeaks. The old, the good old day is cited, tears Roll down their reverend beards, and genuine love Doug. I long To press the sons, and tell them what a lord Lives yet to rule them. Per. When first I mixed among them, oft I struck, Encouraged thus, I sought its latent seeds, There, to high strains, the minstrel harp I tuned, When their brave fathers, scorning to be slaves, And shared his triumphs in the festal hall. Doug. That lulled them, as the north wind does the sea Per. From man to man, from house to house, like fire, The kindling impulse flew; till every hind, Scarce conscious why, handles his targe and bow; Still talks of change; starts if the banished name By chance he hears; and supplicates his saint, Doug. What lack we? Spread The warlike ensign. On the border side, Two hundred veteran spears await your summons. Doug. Sinews of the house; Ready to tread in every track of Douglas. By stealth I drew them in from distant points, And hid amidst a wood in Chevy-Chace. Per. 0, Douglas! Douglas! even such a friend, For death or life, was thy great sire to mine. Doug. Straight, let us turn our trumpets to the hills; Declare aloud thy name and wrongs; in swarms Call down the warlike tenantry, and teach Aspiring Neville fatal is the day The Percy and the Douglas lead in arms. Per. If he were all-Remember haughty Henry, The nephew of his wife, whose word could speed A veteran army to his kinsman's aid. Doug. Come one, come all; leave us to welcome them. [Exit Dougias. Per. Too long, too long a huntsman, Arthur comes, Steeped in a mother's and an orphan's tears. When others danced, struck the glad wire, or caught Brooding o'er wrongs that haunted me for vengeance. My birth-right home. Halls founded by my sires Their laurels trampled on; their bones profaned. Hence have I labored; watched while others slept; One vernal blossom in the day of youth.- WHY shouldst thou weep? No cause hast thou No care has marked that polished brow, Why shouldst thou weep? Around thee glows The purple light of youth, And all thy looks the calm disclose Of innocence and truth. Nay, weep not while thy sun shines bright, While past and present joys unite While fond companions round thee move, And friends, whose looks of anxious love Nay, weep not now: reserve thy tears When thou, alas! no more canst see, The friends who ever looked on thee When some, thy fond companions now, View thee with anger-darkening brow, Or some, the faithful of that band, Bless thee with faltering breath, While from their lips thy trembling hand Nay, weep not now: reserve thy tears When, through the gradual lapse of years, When Memory a wavering light And Hope no longer veils from sight Nay, weep not then: let but the ray Glorious shall be thy summer's day, Then Memory's light, though dim, shall show Autumn.-H. W. LONGFELLOW. O, WITH What glory comes and goes the year!The buds of spring-those beautiful harbingers Of sunny skies and cloudless times-enjoy Life's newness, and earth's garniture spread out; And when the silver habit of the clouds Comes down upon the autumn sun, and, with A sober gladness, the old year takes up His bright inheritance of golden fruits, A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene. There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellow richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn, on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing; and in the vales The gentle wind-a sweet and passionate wooer— Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beach, and maple yellow-leaved,— Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the way-side a-weary. Through the trees The golden robin moves; the purple finch, That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds,A winter bird,-comes with its plantive whistle, And pecks by the witch-hazel; whilst aloud, From cottage roofs, the warbling blue-bird sings; And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke, Sounds from the threshing-floor the busy flail. |